#my first request im so unnaturally nervous about this | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

thisgirlnamedblusy · 2 months ago

Note

Hallo!!

may i ask for a little spronkle of fluff? Donna goes out to town to buy fabrics, the neewww (oh, wow!) cleric selling it to her, Reader, has almost the exact same scar on their face (except for it not being unnaturally deformed, -- reader got it from like, an encounter with a rabid animal, or something),

Donna gets curious and asks about it, leading to a casual conversation, which led to Donna wanting to come back and chat with the new hire, seeing as how, unbeknownst to Reader (because, obviously, Donna wears the veil, Reader wouldnt know she had the same mutation) they had something in common, their scarring

Make it so that Reader (very slowly) catches on ?? And they develop feelings overtime ?? But, doesnt know if 'big-lady-Donna' feels the same way, so they just.. shaddap? (i had to use that 'big-lady' reference, or it wouldve haunted me, forgive, forget)

Reader asks to see Donnas face (although, very nervously, because of, yknow, Angie staring down Readers soul, aswell as Donnas rank/title), Donna complies, although hesitantly, and Reader is just so entranced by how similar the size/placement/colour of their scarring is, that theyre just so hyped, and cant help to call Donna beautiful, to call her newly-revealed, singular eye 'enchanting' and whatnot (make Reader a nervous sap, i beg and i plead, i need this prompt to rot my teeth),

Donna gets fed up from how clueless Reader is to how much Donna appreciates them -- leading to, very reluctant, and/or peeved (take that as you will, im unsure how to topic Donnas nerves, tremors, mood-swings and whatnot) confession, coming from Donnas side. (Meaning: Donna confesses first, very awkwardly, and shyly, and Reader obviously accepts, because, .. They're girlfriends, your honor!)

Angie, meanwhile, is hurling in the background because of how cheesy, and forced, Donnas confession was, (although, secretely, Angie is over the moon that her Donsie made a new (girl)friend). Maybe add a little bit of like, restless, over-thinking rambling in Italian to that mix. (Ex: Donna just going over about how cool it is that they have matching scars, maybe Reader could come over to her estate and see her portrait without it. *Mumble mumble, something nervy in italian*, do you wanna come over? Do you wanna see my workshop? Do you wanna see my dolls? I can have one resemble you. Do you sew? We can make dolls -- *Mumble, trips over words, Italian*)

Make it from Donnas prospective, Please and thanks!!

No smut, just wholesome wholesomeness, and ofcourse, happy, diabetes-inducing ending, where Reader does agree to come and hang out with her -- make them Girlfriends with your writers-magic from that point on, because i have no idea what else to add to explain how overtime THEY FALL INLOVESIES!!! (AGHH! SUCH ROMANCE! THEYRE SO INLOVE!!!)

No mention of G!P or just, like, any arousal in general (since ive seen it mentioned on other posts, by other people, when asked for no smut, i just wanted to clarify)

hope i explained this okay?? Sometimes im pretty vague/too specific while typing and add too many '()'s and '/'s (overthinking autism brain -- HEY! LOOK! I JUST DID IT AGAIN!)

wish ya the best of luck, aswell as the best of day, may Angie bite your fingers (not really.. aha.. joking! Or am i?), Ciao, Blusy!

Yesss!!! Wow, it was a curious request! Thank you!!! I hope you like it and sorry about the language mistakes!!!! :))))

Two broken faces

Pairing: Donna Beneviento x Fem! Reader

Warnings:¡ fluff, Donna being Donna, Donna's POV

Word count: 9,376

Summary: She's so simliar, but so different...

N/A: Sorry about the language mistakes!!! Requests are open!!! I'm waiting yours!!! I love you all!!! :))

I thought I had everything I needed.

I had my dolls, my books, the peace that solitude offers a woman like me… Always afraid of people, always hiding, I found in my isolated world a peaceful place to live, for all eternity.

I didn't ask for this, I never asked the Black Gods to have mercy on my soul, I didn't ask Mother Miranda to adopt me, I never asked anyone for that second chance, I just wanted to die.

Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if my family hadn't been noble, if my ancestors hadn't been part of the founding of this village. Maybe I would have had the chance to live in a different way or maybe my wish to disappear would have simply been fulfilled.

Donna Beneviento, a young woman who stopped fighting. Yes, surely they would put something similar on my grave. I would have become a legend, that woman who lost everything, who was cursed with an illness, who was condemned to watch how little by little, the world around me faded away behind that horrible waterfall.

But… After all, after that mercy that I didn't ask for, the result wasn't very different. To think that I was no longer alone would be to deceive myself. Angie was already speaking before I insisted on giving her life with my new gifts. Angie was me, I was Angie.

Maybe she's still me, even if I don't realize it, maybe I’m not even a Lord, maybe I wasn't even alive anymore. It was hard to know. That position of power that the Gods granted me only served to make my horrible thoughts to take shape, to find in cruelty a way to relieve the pain of my soul, the rage I felt at having been unjustly deprived of a normal life.

Josef was the first, but not the last.

What was the fault of the man who took care of me after the death of my family? None. Why did I do it? Because I could.

I try to look in the mirror and not see that reflection, the reflection of my horrible appearance, of that punishment for the sins I didn’t commit, but I only see a monster, a monster on the outside, a monster on the inside.

Surely that was what Miranda expected of me: another terrifying being to keep the flock under control. I cannot deny that she succeeded. I myself became the fear, the terror.

That legend that I thought I would become by ending my life became a dark tale, a nightmare story, the story of the terrible doll maker, Donna Beneviento.

I could not say when she stopped mattering to me, I cannot even say that one day she stopped. Loneliness was my fear, until it became my refuge. You did not love me before, when I was just a girl with a scar, now that I am a monster your punishment would be to fear me.

None of that matters, not even my brothers, nor this cursed village. I only care about Angie, my dolls, those that do not judge, that do not laugh at me, that do not fear me, that do not feel anything. The flesh deceives, lies, harms, porcelain does not. Porcelain is malleable, it looks the way I want, it is beautiful, soft and does not hate me.

I wish I could have been a doll, I wish I could free myself from the hatred that was inside me…

“Grigio,” I said in a whisper, while I was devoting my soul to making my dolls, to creating those emotionless beings that I envied.

Angie nodded, walking around the work table, looking for the fabric I asked for.

“Grey again, Donna?” the doll asked, in a mocking tone. I nodded without looking at her, finishing correcting the imperfections of that new companion.

“What's your problem with grey?” I asked, cleaning the smooth porcelain, with my gaze fixed on it, trying not to let Angie distract me, as she usually did.

“It's boring,” the doll said, handing me a too small piece of fabric, making me frown.

“It's not enough, I need much more,” I said focused, shaking my head. The doll shrugged, walking over to her new friend.

“There is no more grey fabric,” Angie mocked, hands on her hips.

I sighed, snapping out of my concentration, searching through the drawers. I would never trust Angie, I would never trust myself.

“There isn’t?” I asked confused, searching the workshop for the desired fabric. The doll growled angrily at my distrust, crossing her arms.

“I already told you, silly Donna,” she mocked, getting down from the table. I sighed, rubbing my eye. I had been in the workshop for hours, I couldn’t say how many.

“Angie…” I sighed tiredly, shaking my head and finally abandoning my dolls, walking through the dark basement hallway, through that comforting darkness. “I'm not in the mood for your nonsense.”

“Are you ever in the mood?” the puppet asked, with a mocking tone.

I didn't answer. I simply walked towards the phone, looking in a address book for the number of the village merchant, the Duke.

“Oh, oh, oh, ask the fat guy if he has yellow wool balls,” Angie said, tugging at my dress.

I looked at her, unable to help but smile. Who it was didn't matter, my position as a Lord didn't matter, I was sure that, without Angie, I would have given up a long time ago.

“What do you want yellow wool balls for?” I asked amused, picking up the phone and dialing the number slowly, indicating to Angie that she should let herself be picked up. I still needed her to speak for me.

“I don't know, they're funny,” she commented, taking the phone while I lovingly put her old clothes on. “Hello, hello? Fatty?”

Nothing, no one seemed to answer.

“He doesn't pick up,” Angie whispered so I frowned, snatching the phone from her and checking she was telling the truth.

“Maybe he's not in the village,” I sighed, hanging up and shaking my head. “How convenient, I need that damn fabric.”

“He might be in his warehouse,” Angie commented, going back down to the floor. “Although I doubt he will fit through the door,” she mocked amused, making me smile again.

“What do we do now?” I asked, looking at the crumbling ceiling.

“Why don't we go to the village?” Angie suggested. “We can look for the Duke there.”

“No,” I said dryly, hardening my expression.

“Silly Donna... I want my wool balls!” the doll protested, in a childish way, irritating me again. “Let's go to the village, to the village!”

“Madonna… I said no, Angie,” I snorted, in a brusque tone.

No, I didn't want to go to the village, I didn't want to see anyone, I didn't want to see fear in people's eyes, I didn't want to see it again.

“Silly, you stupid pasta thing,” the doll hissed. “Stupid Donna”

“Are you done yet?” I asked with irony, with a dangerous look. As expected, the doll shook her head.

“Donna, you coward, I want my wool balls!” she shrieked irritatingly again, making me lose my patience.

“Chuidi quella cazzo di bocca!” I shouted furiously, completely out of my mind, causing the puppet to flee in terror, hiding behind a table.

Once again, I had lost control for no reason. I would never be able to escape my sentence.

I tried to relax, to make the trembling in my body disappear. I breathed deeply, lowering my head.

“Perdonami, Angie…” I sighed in a calmer tone, walking slowly to the doll's hiding place. She, timidly, peeked out. “I shouldn't have yelled at you.”

“You're very tense,” the doll whispered. “You have to relax...”

“I know, forgive me, please,” I said with my voice broken by the rage of my behavior, extending my arms towards her, who timidly approached, letting me pick her up from the floor.

“Of course I forgive you, silly,” the doll said, hugging me in a childish way, bringing the smile back to my face.

“Fine… W-we'll go to the village to get the fabrics, what do you think?” I finally said, trying to compensate my only friend for having to put up with me day after day, for having to live… With a monster.

“Yay!” the puppet celebrated as I carried her in my arms, leaving the comfort of that dark basement.

I never liked going out, feeling the cold on my body, feeling insecure, outside the safety of the cracked walls. Maybe no one had the misfortune of seeing my face, but my mere presence was already uncomfortable enough for anyone.

Just think about it, a woman in black clothes, with her face hidden by a black veil, a lifeless figure which comes walking slowly towards you. It was terrifying.

Luckily, there didn't seem to be many people in the village, it was a cold morning. I also didn't want to notice if there were eyes watching me, if there was a child trembling in its mother's arms when it saw me walking.

The Duke's warehouse wasn't far away, and I headed there as quickly as possible. My breathing was uncontrolled, my anxieties were already starting to make me too nervous. I wanted to go home.

“Duuuuke!” Angie called when we entered the cabin. “Duuuuke! Where are you?”

There didn't seem to be anyone there and we both looked at each other, shrugging our shoulders. Not wanting to wait for that vermin to appear, I approached the place where he kept the fabrics, looking for that desired grey tone my doll needed.

“What do you think, Angie?” I asked the puppet, who was curiously rummaging through the merchant's things, nodding disinterestedly. “Where are the grey ones...?”

“Hello,” an unknown voice startled me, a female voice that was not familiar to me.

From among the boxes, a girl appeared, a young girl with a splendid smile. I didn’t recognize her, I would remember that face. Near her left eye there was a horrible scar. I couldn’t help but bring my hand to my face when I found a similarity between that deformity and mine.

The girl shook her hands, with an elegant gesture, without that smile disappearing.

“Lady Beneviento,” she said softly, lowering her head. “Surely the Duke would spend the whole morning flattering your presence but I believe in naturalness, do you need something?”

“Where is the fatty? Who are you?” Angie asked, letting me pick her up again while pointing at that unknown girl.

“Oh, the Duke is on a business trip, or so he told me,” she said, amused, shaking her head. “But I'm sure I can help you, or try, at least.”

I looked at her curiously, unable to take my eyes off her scar, one that didn’t hide her beauty at all. I couldn't say why, but my cheeks began to blush.

I didn't say anything. I just looked at her confused, just like the doll did with me, waiting for me to react.

“Oh, sorry, I haven't introduced myself,” the girl said with an apologetic look, extending her hand towards me, a hand that seemed very soft… “I'm (Y/N), the Duke hired me to be his assistant when he wasn't around. I manage the warehouse too.”

I hesitated for a moment. My instincts pushed me to reject that greeting, to ignore that smiling young woman, but, for some reason, I didn't. I slowly extended my hand towards hers, shaking it briefly, feeling for myself that I wasn't wrong, her skin was very soft, warm.

“It’s, it's a pleasure to meet you too,” she joked, confused by my shy greeting, with a natural, beautiful smile... “I never thought I'd have the honor of having one of you here.”

“Shut up, you stupid village girl! We've come for...” Angie said, interrupted by a sudden movement of my arms, letting her fall to the floor. “Hey!”

“I ne-ne-need fabrics,” I whispered with a hoarse, timid, barely audible voice. The girl frowned, coming a little closer to me.

“Excuse me, but I didn't hear you,” she said amused but with a kind look.

“Fabrics, stupid! Fabrics!” Angie shrieked, startling the young woman, who, surprisingly, kept her composure masterfully.

“Oh, fabrics, of course,” (Y/N) said, nodding and passing by me, letting me get a closer look at that scar so similar to mine, one that had me quite interested. “If you would be so kind as to come with me…”

I nodded slowly, following the young assistant through the warehouse.

“Are you looking for something in particular?” she asked naturally, rummaging through a pile of fabrics.

“G-Grey fabric…” I murmured, clearing my throat, with Angie looking at me strangely. I couldn't blame her for it, I was very nervous.

“Grey…” (Y/N) commented, searching with her eyes. “Oh, yes, here,” she said amused, pointing at several fabrics of that same color.

“Wool balls, we want wool balls,” Angie said with a haughty tone while I touched those fabrics with curiosity, unable to avoid looking at that girl out of the corner of my eye.

“Wool balls?” she asked confused, scratching her head. “Mm, yes, this way,” she said, gesturing for the puppet to follow her.

I paused for a moment to look at her again, my heart beating fast and my eye unable to stop studying each of her movements. She was a really beautiful young woman, who surely hid some terrible story, maybe one as horrible as mine, maybe… Oh, I didn’t know why I was thinking about it.

“Do you see anything you like?” she asked me when finished attending to Angie, getting closer to me, maybe too close, allowing me to look at her more closely again.

“Um, yes… I…” I stammered nervously, clearing my throat again and pointing at a random roll of fabric. Luckily, it was a grey one.

“This one? Good…” the young woman commented, taking the roll and heading to a small counter. “How much do you want?”

“No, I… I’ll take the entire roll,” I said, nodding, putting my hands together in front of my body, playing with them discreetly to try to stop shaking.

“The entire roll?” (Y/N) asked, frowning. The Duke never questioned me, why did she?

“Is there a problem, silly?” Angie asked mockingly, comically wrapped in a wool ball.

“No, there’s no problem but… I don’t know if you can handle it, it’s quite heavy,” the girl said amused, leaning on the counter and looking at that large roll of fabric. “I mean, I’m not saying you can’t… I mean, I…”

I laughed at that shy side, that nervous side my presence provoked in her. Normally I would have groaned or sighed at the sight of her body trembling, but on that occasion, I didn't. Even when she was nervous, she couldn't lose that bright smile.

“Calm down, I know what you mean,” I said in a different tone, louder and noticeable, as if my own voice was eager to talk to her.

“Uff, okay...” she sighed, running a hand over her forehead in a playful way. “Sorry, my lady, I'm not used to dealing with... Lords, you know.”

I laughed again, shaking my head. I could feel Angie's eyes looking at me inquisitively, but I didn't pay attention to them. Not wanting to look stupid, I took out a bag of coins, leaving them on the counter. (Y/N) picked them up, writing something down in a notebook.

“Fine...” the girl murmured, leaving the pen on top of the notebook. “Do you need anything else, my lady?” she asked kindly.

I shook my head, turning to leave, picking up my doll again, who was still staring at me.

“No, thank you,” I muttered before walking out the door. Something, something made me stop and turn around. “Uh, actually, I do.”

“Mm?” (Y/N) hummed, with that same kind smile, following me with her gaze as I approached the counter again.

“I don't remember seeing you before,” I said with a dry voice, with an indifferent tone. I didn't want to show her how nervous I was, besides, I didn't even know why I was that nervous.

“I'm elusive,” she answered amused, leaning on the counter in a casual manner. “But the truth is that I've been here all my life.”

“Working for the fat guy?” Angie asked, with a curious tone, shifting in my arms.

“No, no,” (Y/N) said, shaking her head, laughing amused. “I mean, I've been in the village all my life.”

“Really? It's funny, you don't sound familiar to me,” I commented, with a slightly dark tone, analyzing her expressions. The girl shrugged, as if it wasn't the most comfortable question for her.

“Well... I'm not very fond of masses...” she murmured in a cautious tone. “Don't get me wrong, I adore Mother Miranda, and you, and of course I pray to the Black Gods every day and...”

“Mmm…” Angie got out of my arms, walking along the counter until she was very close to her. “She's lying.”

“What? Oh, no, no, I’m not,” the assistant said, now a little more scared. “No, my lady, no, I'm not lying.”

“I don't care if you are, (Y/N),” I commented, moving the doll away from her, laughing shyly again. “I'm not judging you.”

“Oh, okay…” the girl sighed, with an exaggerated gesture of relief. “Well, to be honest, I've never had a particular interest in… All that stuff about the Gods.”

I nodded nervously, wanting to ask a thousand questions, without knowing why, without knowing what exactly was keeping me in that warehouse.

“But, but I go to masses,” she said with a more relaxed tone, pretending sincerity. “Um… Um…Do you want… Do you want something else?”

“No,” I answered abruptly, turning around again and walking towards the door.

When I arrived, I realized that my legs weren't moving, that my head wanted to turn towards that girl again. My behavior was strange, but I couldn't help it.

“Yes,” I said, entering again, causing her to laugh amusedly and look at me in amazement, probably because of my pathetic attitude. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Lycans,” she answered, relaxing her expression. I frowned and shook my head, confused.

“Cosa?”

“My scar, I know you were going to ask me about it,” she said with a relaxed tone, pretending to read the notes in that account book.

“No, I…” I stammered, embarrassed to know that it was really what I wanted to know, what had caught my attention.

“Don’t worry, my lady, nothing is wrong. I’m not ashamed of it,” she said with a sincere look, one that made me see that her left eye had a slightly whiter tone, as if it had no life.

That was how I was like when I was a child, when everyone laughed at me.

“What…? What happened to you?” I asked in a cautious, strangely curious tone.

“When I was 10 I made the stupid mistake of going into the forest at dusk, you know, I wanted to be the bravest girl and blah blah blah…” (Y/N) commented casually, gesturing with her hands. I nodded for her to continue. “How was I supposed to know that there were lycans in the woods? It seems unlikely in a place like this, right? Um, sorry, it was, it was a joke.”

“Uh-huh,” I whispered, frowning. “A joke?”

“Yeah, well… I've learned that, in order to be happy, you must learn to laugh at yourself,” (Y/N) explained, with a smile adorning her beauty again.

“Do you find that some lycans hurt you funny? You could have died,” I said annoyed by that attitude. No, that wasn't funny, it couldn't be.

“I know, but… Here I’m,” she said sighing, spreading her arms in a playful way. “I lost the vision of my left eye, but… I'm still alive, and that's the important thing.”

“You seem like a very optimistic girl,” I commented, with an amused laugh, inadvertently getting a little closer to her.

“Mm, well, it can't be any other way,” the girl said in a relaxed tone, tilting her head.

“It must have… It must have been… difficult for you, you know…” I said stuttering, raising my hand to discreetly point out the deformity of her face. “Children can be very cruel.”

“Oh, not at all,” she said with a wider smile, shaking her head. “There hasn't been anyone brave enough to mess with me.”

I laughed again, incredulous at that attitude, one so different from mine. So similar and so different at the same time… Like the two sides of the same coin.

“Why you say so?” I asked curiously, with Angie starting to get impatient, tugging at my dress probably wanting to go back home.

“Because if they did… Well, they were very likely to go home with a black eye,” she whispered in a lower voice, as if she wanted to tell me a secret. “You know what they say: an eye for an eye, right?”

She was a mysterious girl, one who, with every thing she said, brought a soft laugh to my lips. It had been a long time since I laughed so many times, that the smile refused to leave my face.

“Um, I…” I murmured after a moment of awkward silence, holding Angie's hands, which pulled at my dress harder and harder. “I'll leave you alone, I've already stolen too much of your time.”

“You can steal all the time you want, my lady, as you see, there's no one around here,” the merchant said amused, looking around.

“Um, yes, well, I… I'm, I'm leaving, th-thanks,” I stammered, closing my eye because of my pathetic stammering, ready this time to really leave, to control my desire to stay and chat with that girl.

“Wait,” she said, leaving me pinned to the ground, walking out the counter. “Wait, I…”

“Mm?”

“Um, hey, you're not as scary as they say,” (Y/N) said nervously, biting her lip to contain her words, words that, apparently, came out of her mouth on their own. “I mean, I, I liked meeting you, Lady Beneviento.”

“Oh, I…” I stammered, struggling between joy and anger. I couldn't blame her for fearing me, everyone did and everyone would, forever. “Me… Me too, (Y/N)…”

It could have been just another day, but it wasn't. Meeting (Y/N) made me start to smile. It didn't matter what I was doing: cooking, reading, working with my dolls... The beauty of her face was always present in my thoughts.

Chance is a capricious God, one that made me suddenly find myself with my distorted reflection. Yes, a scar identical to the one I had as a child, a face deformed by misfortune, just like me.

But, even though we had that in common, we were very different. (Y/N) was cheerful, outgoing and didn't let anyone make fun of her. I was the opposite, like an evil double, like the negative of a photograph. It might seem silly, but, as the days went by, that urge to want to go back to the warehouse became more and more intense.

Sewing in my workshop, as always, I searched in my head for a logical explanation for my sudden interest in that young woman, like every time I did, without finding an answer.

“Angie,” I said, frowning, looking at the old sewing machine. The doll, having fun with her new wool balls, walked towards me comically getting tangled in the yellow thread.

“I hope it's not something to do with the girl from the warehouse,” the puppet hissed. Poor thing, she was sick of hearing me talk about her.

“No, no,” I said with a look that gave away my lie. “Look,” I helped the doll to get on my lap while pointing at the old machine.

“What's wrong?” she asked, looking at the machine and then at me, confused.

“Don't you see it?” I asked with a frown, picking up a piece of freshly sewn fabric. “Look at these seams, they're not right.”

“They’re just like always,” the doll commented, playing with the piece of fabric in her hands.

“No, no, not at all,” I said, shaking my head again, blinking, giving away my lie. “There's something wrong with the machine.”

“Do you know what's wrong? Your brain,” the doll mocked, causing me to grunt. “There's nothing wrong with the machine, Donna.”

“I'm telling you, it's broken,” I insisted, pretending to look for the fault that old machine didn't have. “I think there's something stuck… I should take it to (Y/N). Maybe she can take a look at it.”

“Oh, of course, of course…” the doll sighed, moving her arms in an exaggerated way. “You just want to see her again.”

“No, I… Non è vero…” I muttered, stumbling over my words. “It's, it's the machine…”

“There's nothing wrong with the machine, silly Donna, stop making stupid excuses. If you want to see (Y/N), why don't you just go?” Angie said, putting a wooden finger on my nose, which I wrinkled in displeasure, determined to deny the evidence.

“It’s not about that, Angie,” I protested, pounding my fists on the table but relaxing instantly. “I want her to take a look at it.”

“A look?” the doll scolded me. “Oh, yes, what a great idea… What are you going to tell her when she realizes that the machine is perfectly fine?”

I tried to fight back, but I couldn’t. I huffed angrily, gritting my teeth. Angie was right. My legs trembled nervously as my gaze wandered to the old machine. I didn’t even think about it.

With a quick gesture, I pushed the sewing machine to the floor, crashing against it with a dull sound, indicating that something had broken. It was a pathetic, almost desperate plan. I still didn’t know what I was doing, why I was doing it, or rather, I didn’t want to know.

“Silly Donna! Nonna’s machine!” Angie shrieked, getting down to the floor to check the condition of the machine. I remained serious, but I adopted a haughty pose.

“What do you say now? Diamo un’occhiata?” I asked mockingly, bending down to pick up the broken machine from the floor, ignoring the insults and protests of the doll.

It was too easy for me to put the veil back on and leave my house. I had a fixed destination. I had her beauty waiting for me. I think I was starting to get too nervous. Breaking my grandmother’s machine so I could see that girl… It sounded crazy, but I didn’t want to think about it.

“Oh, my lady, what a surprise,” (Y/N) said, coming down a ladder, with a, as always, beautiful smile. “The Duke has already returned from his trip, he should have brought you the fabrics.”

“Yes, I…” I murmured nervously, holding the box under Angie’s fierce gaze. “I wanted, I wanted to see you.”

“Me?” the girl asked, approaching curiously, brushing the dust off her dress.

I could only nod, leaving the box on the counter.

“I thought you could help me with this,” I muttered, with a broken voice, much more nervous than in our first meeting.

“Wow…” the young woman commented, taking the broken machine out of the box, observing every detail. “A Singer 66k, from 1917… What happened to it? It's in pieces…”

“Angie threw it,” I lied cowardly, earning a furious gasp from the doll.

“What are you talking about?!” the doll shrieked unpleasantly. “Liar, Donna liar, Donna…!”

I silenced the puppet with a subtle movement of my hands, making it stop screaming and move away, unable to stop it from glaring at me as it did so.

“Oh, that was a nasty fall…” (Y/N) joked, studying the machine. “It's a shame, it's a beauty.”

“C-Can you fix it?” I asked timidly, starting to regret what I had done. Her smile showed me that I shouldn't do it.

“Mm, I think so,” she said nodding, moving the machine to a small table with tools. I followed closely, watching her curiously. “Let's see…”

“I can, I can leave you alone if you are more comfortable,” I murmured when she started working, checking the pieces with a frown. She stopped and looked at me, shaking her head, with that wonderful smile…

“Oh, no, well… It's good to have some company, besides, that way I can prove that I'm not scamming you,” the assistant said amused, carefully unscrewing the machine.

“I trust you,” I said without thinking, playing with my hands again, trying not to look at her face, not to notice that scar that told me we had something in common, even if she couldn't know it.

“You must be the only one,” she commented sighing, searching for something in a box of spare parts. I tilted my head curiously. “Normally the people of this village are quite distrustful… I can't blame them, my boss is not exactly a… reliable man…” she said smiling, making the gesture of quotation marks with her fingers.

“You are not like him,” I said, stating a truth of which I was completely sure.

“Mm no, I hope so,” the girl joked amused, struggling with the machine. “Okay…”

Silence reigned again in the warehouse. She worked on the machine with surprising skill while I watched her, memorizing each of her movements. If she had noticed how I looked at her… Well, she would surely be terribly uncomfortable.

“So… Do you use this machine to you make clothes for your dolls?” (Y/N) asked, taking me out of my thoughts. “Y-you made dolls, right?”

“Cosa?” I said distractedly, thinking about her past, about how she had to live through that attack, about her courage when facing mockery and offensive comments, how did she do it? “Oh, I… Yes, yes of course…”

She smiled, nodding, without stopping working.

“You know? You can tell the quality of a handmade product…” she commented distractedly. “I mean, there are modern machines now but… If you ask me, I prefer the old ones, like this beauty”

“Y-Yes, I… I think the same,” I said with a smile that she couldn't see, luckily.

“I think… I think it's done,” she said, moving the crank to check that it worked correctly. “Just like new.”

I didn't expect it to end so quickly. I got nervous, like every time something didn't turn out the way I had thought.

“You are… You are skilled,” I flattered her, taking the machine and checking that, indeed, it was already fixed.

She shrugged, with an amused smile.

“There had to be something good about me, right?” she joked, getting up from the table and passing by me, allowing me to look even more at her beauty.

“Uh… Tell me how much I owe you,” I said, putting the machine back in the box, searching in my head for an absurd excuse to stay a little longer, just a little longer…

“Oh, nothing,” she said, looking at me amused, shaking her head. “It’s not necessary.”

“W-Wait, I have, I have to pay you,” I said, with my hands starting to sweat again. You relaxed your expression, sighing and shaking your head again.

“No, that it’s not necessary,” the girl said with a confused smile, surely due to the trembling of my body. “I’m happy to help you, my lady.”

“No, don't be condescending to me for who I am, I beg you to let me pay you,” I insisted with a darker, almost angry voice. Her smile was worth more than all the gold in the world...

“I'm not condescending, I'm just doing you a favor, I like you,” she murmured, frowning, as if she was trying to meet my gaze.

I pointed at myself in surprise. The words refused to come out of my mouth.

“Do you... do you like me?” I asked stammering, puzzled by that phrase, one that couldn't be true.

“Yes, you're kind,” she said, looking away. “It's not something that's especially common in this place.”

“Oh, well, I... I...” I said nervously, having the imperative need to run out of there to hide my embarrassment, the invisible blush on my cheeks. “Grazie, (Y/N)…”

“Prego,” (Y/N) said, with a wider smile, as if she knew the reaction that hearing her speak that way would provoke in my body, paralyzing it completely.

“D-Do you know Italian?” I asked curiously, with my voice shaking at the same time as my body. She laughed amused, with a clueless expression.

“Nope,” she whispered in an ironic tone. “I know the basics.”

“Oh, of course…” I said, even more nervous, looking for Angie with my gaze. “I… I'm, I'm leaving now and… Well, we'll see each other, and…”

“Whenever you want,” (Y/N) said, sitting on the counter casually, swinging her legs and picking up what looked like a cup of coffee. “Um, my lady,” she said suddenly, when I had already turned around. My blood froze again. “I hope your doll doesn't break any more things.”

“Hey!” Angie protested, rummaging through the counter. “Shut up, you idiot!”

“Angie…” I sighed, gesturing with my head so the puppet would stop stirring everything up.

“She seems to be funny,” (Y/N) commented, looking curiously at Angie.

“Yes… W-Well… She's… I don't know how to describe her…” I said, more and more nervous. “I guess she's one of a kind.”

“I see, she's like you then,” the girl said in a low tone, one that betrayed nervousness. The doll was making her nervous.

“Angie, basta,” I growled at the puppet, who was staring indiscreetly at the cup of coffee.

“Do you like coffee?” the saleswoman asked in a kind tone, looking at Angie, letting me see her beautiful, damaged face. It was so similar to mine…

“I don't know,” Angie said, in a petulant tone. “What I know is that calling this thing coffee is blasphemy, how disgusting.”

“Angie…” I protested, losing my nerves, kicking the floor pathetically.

“Hey, it's not that bad, is it?” (Y/N) asked, bringing the cup to her lips and making a face of disgust. “Well, maybe it is.”

“Don't mind her, (Y/N)…” I sighed, noticing how the sweat ran down my forehead, how my nerves kept increasing. “Angie, dai!”

“Don't be mad at her, my lady, she's right,” (Y/N) said, pouring another coffee into a different cup. “Maybe you can give me your opinion… You, you Italians are good with coffee, aren't you?”

“Me?” I asked, leaving the box on the counter, timidly reaching out my hand for the cup she offered me. “W-Well, I wouldn't know how to answer that… Actually my, my family was Italian, I… I was born here.”

“Well, but I'm sure you have better taste than me,” the girl commented, leaning on the table, frowning suddenly. “Oh, it's not mandatory, I'm sure you have a lot of things to do instead of wasting time with me.”

“Not really,” I whispered, breathing heavily at her apparent nervousness. Not wanting to think, not wanting to feel the things I felt when looking at her, I brought that steaming coffee to my lips, moving my veil aside.

(Y/N) looked away, not wanting to be indiscreet, respecting my decision, but fighting with herself to do so. I could see her confused face, her desire to look at me.

The bitter taste filled my throat. It was really horrible, I hate having to agree with Angie.

“How is it?” the young woman asked, with a fearful look. I shook my head, pushing the disgusting coffee away from my sight and smell.

“È orribile…” I murmured, trying to sound amused. I never knew how to do it.

“I thought so…” the girl sighed, making a face of disgust at that cup. “No matter how hard I try, I can't handle that thing,” she said amused, pointing to an old coffee maker.

“Do you want me to show you how to do it?” I asked without thinking, I asked without wanting to, without being able to help it. She looked at me curiously, then at the coffee maker, and finally at me again, nodding with a shy smile.

“Well, it's not necessary,” she murmured, scratching the back of her neck, downplaying it.

“Please, consider it… A favor,” I said, mysteriously sure of myself. “Because, because of the machine.”

“Mm, well, okay,” she said quickly, gesturing for me to follow her.

As calmly as I could, I taught the young woman how to make a real coffee and how to handle that coffee maker properly. She listened to me attentively, looking at me from time to time and writing down my advice in a notebook.

She was so close to me, her bright eyes were so close to mine… I don't know at what moment I was stuck in her gaze, in her almost perfect face, no, no, in her perfect face.

“It smells so good…” she commented, inhaling the intense aroma of coffee, closing her eyes, granting me the blessing of contemplating her relaxed face, her tender gaze. “I was definitely doing everything wrong.”

I laughed shyly, pouring some coffee into a cup, offering it to her kindly, praying that she wouldn't notice my shaking hands.

“Try not to fill it with too much water,” I said with a serious tone, pretending disinterest while she tasted my creation, with a look of satisfaction. “Always pay attention to the valve.”

“Yes, this is wonderful…” (Y/N) sighed. “Oh, sure, um… Let me pour you one cup.”

“I… Okay…” I stammered, accepting the offer to sit next to her in a couple of chairs.

Without having thought about it, we were together, enjoying a quiet coffee.

I couldn't remember when I felt so calm, so relaxed and at the same time, so nervous, with my heart beating too fast. I guess it was the coffee…

“And then I told him: I don't need to see with both eyes to notice that you're a complete idiot,” (Y/N) said, chatting with me in a friendly way, as if she had known me all my life. I wish it were like that.

“Did you tell him that?” I asked amused, unable to stop smiling. She nodded with a serious look.

“He wanted to go on a date with me to give me a chance, can you believe it? A chance, as if I couldn't choose...” she asked ironically, shaking her head.

I didn't answer, I just listened attentively. Her anecdotes were funny, but hearing them through her lips... That was out of this world.

“Bah, I don't need a stupid boy to tell me nice things... I know he would only do it out of pity,” she said with a slightly sadder tone.

“Mm,” I murmured, playing with my hands in my lap.

“Every morning I look at myself in the mirror and think: what would my life be like if I didn't have this thing on my face?” she commented distractedly again, stirring her coffee with her spoon erratically. “I always come to the same conclusion: Here I am, this is me, and if you don't like it, fuck you... Oh, I mean, sorry... Go to hell?”

I laughed again, a bit sadly. I saw so many things about myself in her, things she didn't consider a problem. She was brave, I was a coward.

“I wish I could think the same way,” I murmured with a broken voice, attracting her attention, drawing a confused look towards me.

“Why do you say so?” she asked in a different tone, with a more discreet smile, with the glint of caution in her eyes.

I suppressed a sob. (Y/N)'s attitude was admirable, enviable. I was never able to accept reality, to look at myself in the mirror in the same way. I was a monster, and she wasn't.

“Forget it, it's nonsense,” I sighed, getting up, wanting to go home, wanting to cry for being unable to recognize the meaning of my heartbeat, wanting to scream, to curse the Black Gods for being unfair to me.

“Oh, have I, have I said something wrong, my lady?” (Y/N) asked, suddenly standing up, putting a hand on my wrist, making my whole body shudder.

“No,” I said in a cold tone, moving away from her grip, perhaps too abruptly. “Dai, Angie,” I whispered to my doll, who was playing with the junk in that warehouse.

“W-Wait, I'm, I'm sorry,” the girl said, stopping me from continuing, standing in front of me with a pleading look.

“Why are you sorry?” I asked, with an involuntary resentment in my voice.

“Well, I, I didn't want to offend you… If I’ve said something I shouldn't have… Oh, of course, it's because of the: fuck you… I don't usually swear, really… Not always…” the young woman stammered nervously, with her gaze traveling everywhere, unable to focus on mine.

“You haven't offended me,” I said, trying to sound softer so my demons wouldn't overwhelm me again, not at that moment, not with her. “I have to go.”

“Sure, I…” she stammered, helping me to pick up the box again, with a fake smile. “Um, if you're not mad at me… Maybe you'd like to come tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” I asked, surprised by that offer.

“Yes, you know, I, I'd like you to check if I've learned anything about coffee,” she said nervously, with a strange blush on her cheeks.

“Do you want me to come here tomorrow?” I asked again, unable to believe her words.

“Yes, well… Yes, if you want,” she whispered, biting her lip and looking away.

“Mm, maybe I will,” I murmured, smiling, taking advantage of the fact she couldn't see me, my smile was hidden from her, as my monstrous face was.

That was the beginning, just the beginning of my constant visits to that old warehouse.

Funny conversations, exploits and experiences of (Y/N)… Any reason was good to hear her voice, to look at her beauty under the aroma of coffee. I could no longer deny myself my feelings. I couldn’t stop thinking about her, every minute, every second.

“Donna and (Y/N) under a tree …” Angie sang, jumping around while I, like every day, walked towards the village. I growled angrily at the doll, wishing she would shut up.

“Angie, per favore…” I sighed, shaking my head. “Don’t, don't talk that loud…”

“Oh, come on, there's no one here,” the puppet protested. “Besides, you're offended because you would like to be with (Y/N) under a tree.”

“Yes, it's true,” I said with a murmur, taking the doll in my arms so she wouldn't entertain me any longer. “(Y/N) is wonderful, don't you think?”

“(Y/N) is wonderful, beautiful, good, kind, fantastic, the best… Yes, yes, you've been repeating it constantly for weeks,” the doll mocked.

I smiled embarrassed.

“I've never felt this way about anyone,” I sighed, walking slower. “Angie, I'm… I'm in love with (Y/N)…”

“I know!” she complained, crossing her arms. “You're so annoying, Donna…”

“I'm not annoying, I'm talking about my feelings,” I said with a frown. “Hey, do you think, do you think she…?”

“Oh, no, no… Don't try to make me believe that I'm a fortune teller or something, I've already told you that I don't know if she feels the same. I can't read minds,” Angie said, shaking her head.

“But you're always with us,” I said, stopping before crossing the door. “Maybe, maybe you saw something that…”

“Oh, yeah… She doesn't take her eye off you,” the doll mocked with an evil laugh. “You get it? her eye.”

“Cazzo… I'm serious,” I said with a stern tone, starting to breathe hard.

“Me too,” Angie said, defensively.

I sighed, frustrated for not knowing, for not being able to read her thoughts, to decipher her smiles, to know if in any of them, she expressed something else than friendship…

“Oh, but that's not what I'm looking for,” the voice of an unknown woman made me stop in front of the warehouse door. (Y/N) was not alone.

“Who is that witch?” Angie asked, peeking through the door. I covered her mouth, hiding behind a wall.

“Mrs. Gravic…” (Y/N) sighed with a tired voice. “If you would be so kind as to tell me what you are looking for…”

“How rude, girl,” the woman protested, with a tone that made me burn with rage. “I don't know why the Duke hired you…”

“Donna… What do you think?” Angie whispered, rubbing her hands in a playful manner. I nodded, concentrating and gently reaching out my hand towards that unpleasant woman.

“Let's see… What do you say about this?” (Y/N) said, leaving something on the counter, something I couldn't see.

“Mm… Well, it could be that… Oh, Black Gods… Grandpa Igor…” the woman sighed and I smiled in satisfaction.

“Excuse me?” the girl asked, confused.

“Oh, I didn't mean to steal Grandma's jewels, don't chase me, leave me alone… No!” the woman screamed, running out of the warehouse in horror.

I nodded to the doll, high-fiving her. Mission accomplished.

“Hey, Mrs. Gravic?” (Y/N) said, looking at her confused, smiling when she saw me walk through the door. “Oh, Donna.”

“Ciao, (Y/N),” I said with the tone I always used for her, a calm one, increasingly sweeter, increasingly obvious.

“You came early today,” she commented, closing the door, like every time we were together, as if she wanted to save that moment just for the two of us. I shouldn't mistake that kindness, but at the same time, I couldn't help but do so.

“Well…” I said disinterestedly, leaving Angie on the floor, sitting on my usual chair. “I hadn’t anything better to do… I mean… Ugh…”

She laughed amused, shyly looking away, pouring the usual coffee.

It seemed like any other conversation. My words lost their fear. They became bold, even funny. All conversations developed the same way, all except that one.

“Um, forgive me for asking you but…” (Y/N) murmured, with a serious, different tone, with a look far from usual. “You probably think I'm stupid or… Well, that I'm butting in where I shouldn't but… I'm, I'm curious.”

“What are you curious about?” I asked, confused by her different attitude, by the fear I began to see in her hands.

“That,” she said with a sigh pointing at my covered face, one to which I brought my hand, with my breath frozen, lacking air.

No, not that, my love…

“Um… What?” I asked nervously, diverting the conversation, saying with my gestures that this was the wrong path, that it would only bring her problems.

“Well, you know, your veil… Why…? Why are you wearing it?” she asked again, her voice increasingly blurred by nervousness.

“Hey! Don't dare to say that to my Donna!” Angie shouted, staring at her, as if she was trying to do me a favor by deciphering her expressions.

“I…” I muttered. My hand was shaking so much that I dropped the coffee cup, breaking it into a thousand pieces on the floor. “Oh, porca miseria!”

“No, it's okay!” she exclaimed, putting her hands in front of her body. “It, it was my fault, I shouldn't have asked that… I, I… I'm, I'm sorry, shit, oh, no, no, I mean, dammit! I'll go to get a broom.”

I stood up, looking at the mess beneath me, nervous, seeking Angie's comfort, one that always brought me back to my senses. I couldn't find her, but I made a decision, the last decision, one last act of stupid bravery.

“Wait,” I said in a whisper, grabbing (Y/N) by the wrist as she swept the floor. “Wait, (Y/N)...”

She looked at me scared, guided by the movement of my hand, which forced her to keep her eyes on mine. Slowly, letting her go, I brought my hand to the black fabric, removing it from my face, revealing my deformed face to her.

Neither of us said anything. (Y/N) blinked in confusion, staring at me, getting a little closer, squinting, mouth agape. I looked away, suppressing my desire to put the veil back on, to run away and never come back.

“Wow...” she sighed, reaching out her hand to my face. I breathed nervously, holding her wrist tightly so it wouldn't reach its destination. I was about to lose my mind, in front of the love of my life… “Donna, wait, let me do it, please.”

I closed my already wet eye, holding back my tears, letting the softness of her hand caress my horrible scar, touch my hair with a rapt look.

“It's, it's incredible...” she murmured again, without stopping caressing me while I, nervous, unable to move, let that tear run down my cheek.

(Y/N) took her hand away, bringing it to her own scar, shaking her head. I couldn't speak, I couldn't even move.

“Donna, you are, you are... You are such a beautiful woman...” she said, smiling in a nervous but sincere way, illuminating me with the light of her beauty, returning her hand to my deformity, as if she herself were as nervous as I was.

“What are you talking about?” I said with great effort, almost furious, clenching my teeth. “N-N-non mi mentire…”

“I'm not lying…” she sighed, touching her own scar again, with a look of astonishment. “Wow, it's… Incredible… We have almost the same scar… Wow… Forgive me, it's just… What a coincidence, isn't it?”

“No, you're beautiful and I'm horrible,” I said sobbing, not believing her words, not even for a second.

“Oh, you must be joking,” (Y/N) said in a calmer tone, almost amused. “You have… You have a beautiful face… And well, what about that eye? It's, it's the most beautiful eye I've ever seen in my entire life.”

“What? Have you gone crazy?” I asked nervously, letting the veil fall to the floor. “Are you laughing at me?”

“Do you really think I'm laughing at you? Really?” she joked, pointing out her defect with a smug pose. I shook my head, trying to control my thoughts. “No, Donna, I'm telling you, I'm telling you the truth… Wait, what did you say?”

“Mm?” I muttered confused, running my hand through my hair, feeling unable to handle the situation any longer.

“That, that thing you said before…” she said, gesturing with her hand, accidentally stepping on the remains of that cup. “You know, that I'm…”

“You're beautiful,” I said with my head down, clenching my fists tightly.

“Mm, and how do I know you're not lying to me? You're my friend, there's no need to be accommodating,” she joked with an amused face, completely ignoring my subtle statement.

“Friend? Are you stupid?” Angie asked. “Donna, please… Tell her now.”

“Tell me what?” (Y/N) asked, curious. I cursed my doll. I was becoming more and more nervous.

“I don't know what she's talking about,” I stammered, having to stop my legs from running away right then and there.

“Hey, you can tell me anything, Donna…” the girl said, whispering in a tender voice, lowering her hands to mine, caressing them in a way that I thought was friendly, that I didn't think was romantic. “Really…”

“No, I…” I said, blinking nervously.

“Is there something worrying you?” she asked again, getting closer to me. “Come on, you can trust me.”

“(Y/N), I…” I stammered again, becoming almost hysterical as I looked at her peaceful gaze.

I couldn't believe it. I couldn't believe it was so difficult for her to understand my feelings. I had taken a definitive step, I couldn't go back. I couldn't turn back now that I had come that far.

“Cazzo! I, I like you, (Y/N)!” I squealed disproportionately, making her widen her eyes and frown.

“Oh, is that it?” she said, still smiling, not getting the not-so-indirect hint. “Oh, Donna, I like you too.”

“Angie’s right,” I hissed angrily, shaking my head. “Are you stupid? I’m telling that I like you, damn it!”

Her face immediately changed to a confused look. I growled again, kicking the chair roughly.

“What do you mean?” she asked again. I froze, turning to her slowly and dangerously. A thunderous laugh filled the warehouse. Angie seemed to be enjoying that.

“Porca puttana!” I squealed again, kicking the floor in rage. “I love you, (Y/N)! I’m fucking in love with you! I can't stop thinking about you day and night, counting the hours until I can see you again! I love you, ti amo! You're the woman of my life!” I squealed abruptly, making her blink comically.

“Oh…” she sighed, with an amused look.

“Is it clear now? Or do you need me to write it down for you?” I said, losing control of my emotions.

(Y/N) shook her head, but didn't say anything, so I growled furiously again, grabbing the notebook from the counter.

“I…Love…You. That's it, you still don't understand?” I said furiously, tearing off the paper and angrily putting it on her chest. “Taci, Angie or I'll deactivate you!”

“Hey… Come on… calm down…”(Y/N) said, putting a hand on my trembling shoulder, turning me around slowly. “Calm down…”

Her soft voice relaxed me, but the tears were already traveling freely down my horrible face.

“Shh…” you whispered in a tender voice, taking my hands again while I, desperate, shook my head.

“I-I'm in love with you, (Y/N)… Ti amo…” I whispered more timidly, coming back to my senses little by little, dying of embarrassment for my nervous outburst.

“Yes, I've already realized,” she said amused, bringing one of her hands to my intact cheek, wiping away one of my tears. “Donna… Listen to me… I… I feel the same way about you…”

“What?” I asked nervously, startling myself.

“The truth is that I didn't expect to fall in love with a Lord but… Well, I guess life has brought us together for a reason, don't you think? And I'm not just saying that just because... Well, you know," she said in a pleasant voice, pointing at her scar.

“You... You have feelings for me...” I said, not knowing if it was a question or a statement.

(Y/N), still caressing me, nodded.

“Please! I'm going to get diabetes!” Angie shrieked, breaking the magic of the moment. “Yuck...”

“Angie...” I lamented, just when I was starting to enjoy that moment.

“It doesn't matter, Donna...” she said, amused, still looking at me, still piercing my heart with her gaze. “You can tell she’s happy...”

“Well...” I said, laughing nervously.

“Hey... I thought about closing the store for today,” (Y/N) said, moving away. “Maybe you'd like to do something together...”

“Vu-Vuoli... Vuoli...fare qualcosa... in-insieme?” I stammered awkwardly, not keeping control of my own language.

“If you told me what I think… Yes,” she joked playfully. “Let’s do something together…”

“Oh, okay, I… Io… We can, go… You can… You can… You can come to my house if you want… I, you… you liked sewing, right?” I said nervously.

She nodded with a funny look.

“I can, I can show you my workshop, and… I can, I can… We can sew together… se… se hai voglia… E… And, I can, I can show you my bam… My dolls, and… I can, I can make one like you if you want, and we can, we can…”

“Donna,” she said, interrupting my pathetic attempt at conversation, relaxing my nerves with a soft caress, one to which I also joined my hand. “I would love to go to your house…”

“Really?” I asked, nodding, with a sincere smile, far from my usual nervous look. “Would you like to?”

“Yes…” she sighed, getting dangerously close to me. “But first, I'd like to do something…”

“Oh, okay, wh…?” I said nervously, interrupted by her lips, which kissed mine, caressed them in a tender way, in a way I never expected to feel. I don't know what her first kiss had been, but mine… I would never forget mine.

“Much better, don't you think?” she sighed still on my lips, letting the rhythm increase on its own, so I could kiss her without fear.

“Ugh, they’re kissing!” Angie protested.

We both smiled, resting our foreheads on each other.

“Come on, honey… I'm looking forward to see your dolls…”

#donna beneviento #donna beneviento x reader #re8 donna #re8 village #oneshot #requests

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inkdrinkerworld · 2 years ago

Note

Hello my love <3 I had an idea so I thought I’d request it! Bradley Bradshaw being so in love with you but cannot for the life of him talk to you normally. He’s a stuttering blushing mess. He finally convinced himself to ask you out but reader thinks he’s sick with a fever or something. He just goes with it and adventually spits it out that he wants to take you on a date (im sorry if this doesn’t make a lot of sense i don’t request very often and it’s hard to get my thoughts out clearly 😅) Xx

my lucky

cw: bradley is a bit shy, reader teases him, hangman being hangman, a supportive dagger squad, fluff

wc: 1.3k

Bradley is anything but subtle. The entire Hard Deck can see his desperate adoration for you, especially the Dagger Squad.

The only problem, when Bradley saw you twirling around the Hard Deck with drinks in your hand, and moving between tables with the breeze under your skirt and a little sheen of sweat on your skin he lost all ability to speak.

He wasn’t quite sure how it was that you made him so speechless, but he could never get out more than a, “Hey could I get six beers, Lucky?”

Phoenix, Jake and Bob had bets on how long it would take Bradley to introduce himself to you and so far, Jake and Bob were still in the range of their bets.

Tonight, the Hard Deck is full of some newer pilots and to say the least, you’re over them.

You’ll be the first to admit that there’s an unnatural appeal to men in their dress whites, but this group of pilots seem different.

You’re not in your typical outfit today- instead you’ve opted for a crocheted top on the balmy night, and a pair of jean shorts that you’ve embroidered with little beakers filled with red and pink hearts along the pockets and hem.

When you step behind the bar Penny whistles at you and smacks your ass making you laugh.

“You tryna catch the attention of a pilot tonight Lucky?”

You’re not entirely sure why she’s given you that nickname, but you love it.

“None of the newer ones, that’s for sure.” you say and she laughs.

Penny isn’t too fond of the newer pilots either, they’re rowdy, rude and just so full of themselves that they all rival Hangman.

You’re wiping glasses when the doors open, Maverick comes in and Penny blushes as he blows her a kiss making you roll your eyes.

They’re so in love it’s sickening in a good way.

Behind him is Jake, Phoenix, Bob and Coyote.

You’ve taken a liking to Phoenix and Bob, but the one you’ve really got your eye on is Bradley and recently he hasn’t been in as much.

You’re not sure why, but something about the way he can’t stop tripping over his words or looking down at his hands when he orders his drinks is endearing.

And it also helps that he’s always made you feel like a person and not a piece of meat.

“God damn sugar, you might be all I need tonight!” Jake shouts as he comes to the bar and you shake your head.

“Do you always try to sleep with pretty girls Jake?” you don’t ever really call them by their call signs; in your head that’s an extension of their work and they come to the Hard Deck to get away from that.

“Only the prettiest sugar,” he winks and Coyote pushes his shoulder.

“Leave the girl alone Bagman, you want Rooster to kick your ass?”

Bob shakes his as you set the beers down on the counter.

You gaze up at Phoenix who just shakes her head and mutters, ‘Coyote’s just being a dick.’

“How is he by the way? I heard Pen saying that he wasn’t too hot last time you guys were flying.”

Jake grins in his little impish way and it makes you nervous.

“You worried ‘bout the chicken sugar?”

“Jake,” you say and he puts his hands up. “He’s just not been coming in with you guys for a while.”

“You been looking out for him?” Jake pouts dramatically but before he can answer, the doors push open with a rush and in come the new flyers and you groan.

“Great, mini Hangman’s.” you mumble making everyone laugh besides Jake.

He mutters softly, “Ain’t nothing mini about me sugar.”

But your attention is stolen by Bradley who comes in dressed in his Hawaiian shirt and a pair of cargo pants and boots looking hotter than hell.

Maverick and Penny share a secret smile and Bob looks between you and Bradley and says to Phoenix, “Maybe I’ll actually win the bet.”

The disperse before Bradley makes his way to bar and when he stops you notice a harsh blush to his cheeks.

“Hey Bradley,” you say casually, trying to calm your racing heart. He smells heavily of eucalyptus and lavender and the scent reminds you of the ocean early in the morning.

“H-Hey,” he stammers and you give him a gentle smile. “Could I get a beer?”

You nod and as you bend to get the beer you hear him muttering to himself.

It’s too soft to make out but Bradley’s trying to hype himself up to asking you out.

He needs to get it done before he loses his edge, he’s only stammered once so far.

“Here you go,” you slide the bottle into his hand and hazard the comment, “You’ve been pretty mia ‘round here Bradshaw.”

It’s playful enough that Bradley’s stance softens and he gives an almost guilty smile.

“Yeah, I have,” he takes a swig of the beer. “Did you miss me?”

It’s your turn to smile and when you give him a nod, Bradley has all the courage to blurt,

“Would you like to go on a date with me?”

Bradley freaking Bradshaw just asked you on a date and your mouth has never felt drier but you’ve also never wanted to say yes more in your life.

But you also know pilots and you don’t want this to be just some little ‘date’ that ends with you just sleeping together.

You want something more with Bradley.

“A date with me Bradshaw?” you ask and he nods, eyes wide with panic.

He really hopes you don’t shut him down and report him to Penny.

You reach for his beer, Bradley’s eyes track your every move.

“What if you just wanna have sex?”

His eyes go even wider and you feel bad for dragging his chain.

He swallows just as you drain his beer.

“N-no! I wanna take you out on a date. Maybe to that music festival that’s coming up, I know your favourite artist is gonna perform and I was thinking maybe we could go,” he takes a breath, “together.”

His cheeks are rosy and you set the bottle back on the counter and smile.

“You’re cute when you’re nervous Bradley,” he goes a deeper red and you giggle. “I’d love to go out with you.” you say finally and he lets out a deep breath.

“You won’t regret it,” he leans into your space a little, “I promise you a great time.” His lips smack to your cheek and you gasp. A dimple pops in his cheek at the sound and you narrow your eyes.

“Is the shy Bradley a front?”

He shakes his head, “No, you still make me nervous, but now I’ve got a foot in the game so I’m a little less nervous.”

You laugh when Jake swears across the bar and hollers, “You couldn’t wait a fucking week Bradshaw? A week?”

Bob takes the money that Jake has in his open palm and Bradley turns to flip them both off.

“Be ready, Friday at eleven. The festival starts at 6 so we’re going for brunch.” He begins to walk over to his friends, when you call,

“Where are you picking me up, Big shot?”

He jogs back towards you with a bashful smile and offers his phone for your number.

Coyote yells out, “Damn! We could’ve had a shot if you didn’t say nothing sugar!”

“They don’t have a shot,” you whisper to Bradley who smiles. “You’ve got the best odds.”

He walks over to them with an extra pep in his step and smiles when you text him and see you’ve saved yourself as, ‘lucky,’ he sneakily adds ‘my’ in front of it and pockets his phone after responding.

#bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley bradshaw x yn #bradley bradshaw x black!reader #bradley bradshaw x fem!reader #bradley bradshaw blurb #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw fluff #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw one shot #bradley bradshaw #bradleybradshaw

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tf2-dead · 3 years ago

Note

it me again.... I have one more ask.... (but please dont feel obligated to do both, hopefully im not being annoying, im just excited there is another tf2 writing blog lol)

how would each class show they are jealous? (specifically if they are not in an official relationship yet with their eventual S/O)

(thank you :3)

Masterlist

I had a bit more inspiration for this one if that’s okay!

I also added Miss Pauling-

And don’t worry, you’re not being annoying at all. If anything, I’m so elated as you’re my first ever request!! I hope this doesn’t disappoint as I’m kinda nervous to post this, I don’t think it’s my best lmao <3

A/N: I wrote this assuming that whoever they’re jealous of is one of the other mercs, but I’ve left it unspecified so you can choose

————��——————————————

The Mercs (+ Miss P) when they are jealous

Scout

He gets jealous very easily, especially when it’s concerning you, although he’s not quite sure why, he’s like 70% sure you guys aren’t even dating

He goes unnaturally quiet, to the point where everyone knows something is up, including yourself

When you inevitably ask about it he only says that nothings wrong, but everyone notices the edge to his voice and the way he avoids eye contact, his jaw clenching and unclenching

He’s just really grumpy and hurls child-like insults at the person he is jealous of

He finds himself glaring daggers at the back of your head when you’re with them

The other mercenaries know how jealous he is and they tease him mercilessly

Soldier

NECK SNAP HUTTAH-

Nah I’m joking

But he does straight up threaten the offending party

He also likes to completely make up lies about them, specifically about how they are the most evil person in existence

Although you’re fairly aware that they are not true

“(Y/N) DID YOU KNOW THAT I SAW *insert person here* STEALING FROM AN RETIREMENT HOME”

“Oh wow really”

“YES. IT IS TRULY DEPLORABLE

….

THEY ALSO KICKED A PUPPY AND RAN A RED LIGHT”

“Oh my”

He takes it upon himself to “save you” from this person

I wouldn’t say he’s too malicious but he definitely gives the person he’s jealous of a harder time than the rest, be it in training or just in general

Pyro

They don’t get jealous, as jealousy is mean and Pyro would never be intentionally mean to anyone

If they see you laughing and joking with other people, they are ecstatic! More people are meeting you and seeing how lovely you are!

They only get agitated if they notice you’re uncomfortable, or see someone touching you in a way that makes something ache in their chest-

I have a feeling Pyro is very good at picking up and discerning different facial expressions so when you’re uncomfortable they know

and they’re not happy

Nothing more to say other than you won’t be bothered by that person again

Demo

He does get jealous quite easily, and when he does he gets drunk, which means he gets clingy

He also constantly tries to one up the person he’s jealous of

You need someone to help carry something as your hands are already full? Demo will help! Oh, *insert person here* is already helping carry it? Well Demo will be extra helpful and carry everything!

Lots of passive aggressive, snarky comments but he wouldn’t get physical or genuinely angry with them unless they started it or hurt you in some way

Definitely challenges them to take shots of pure alcohol with him under the guise of it toughening them up

He wins

Heavy

I don’t see Heavy getting jealous at all, and if he does he most likely won’t act on it

He understands that it’s childish and does more harm than good

However

There are some minor circumstances where it does get the better of him

It will all be small things though, like using his large frame to suddenly get that thing that he definitely needed perfectly situated in between you and them

He keeps a constant eye on the both of you just to be safe but won’t make any comments about it, however if they make you uncomfortable at any point he will be the first at your side and warding them off

Overall he’s very subtle about it but his glare most definitely is not

Engineer

Again, like Heavy, he doesn’t like when he’s jealous

He feels somewhat shameful to even feel this way about you when he knows damn well you two aren’t dating

But the green-eyed monster does get the better of him sometimes and when it does he’s very passive aggressive

Lots of fake smiles towards who he’s jealous of and the many items that you mentioned wanting in passing have now magically appeared on your desk

Will make sure to help you much more in battle than them, and if you don’t fight then he’ll just generally be more friendly towards you than anyone else

Denies ever being jealous and that he’s better than that but, come on,, everyone knows you are

Sniper

Scary tall bushman is extra scary when jealous

He just stands there…menacingly

Is very quiet and so calm, which is what freaks everyone out

He watches you both like a hawk, keeping out of the way

But he won’t shy away from getting all up in the person’s face if he feels it’s necessary, although, even then he won’t give them the time of day and just tells them to piss off

He will stick close to you, not enough for you to feel suffocated but close enough for them to know he’s there, he is naturally protective

But he mostly just watches from the sidelines with a clenched jaw

If confronted about it he will get really flustered though

He’s still an awkward bean pole at heart

Medic

He suddenly needs a new test subject to insert this elephant pancreas inside of

He acts like he isn’t bothered by it around you, but every night he is angrily ranting to Archimedes about how annoying they are and how you shouldn’t even give them the time of day

Always needs to be around you when they are

Begrudgingly heals them in battle if he needs to before giving them a small threat and his large (definitely not evil) smile, sending them on their way with a flick of his gloved wrist

Lock your doors tonight *insert person here* unless you want to end up with an extra organ that certainly should not be there

Spy

Claims that he’s not jealous because you mean absolutely nothing to him

Yeah, sure

He gets very tense when they are around you and his eyes are narrowed more than usual, his stare is like ice as he watches them from the shadows, a vein suddenly bulging from his temple

Will excuse himself from the room if you’re laughing a little too much at their jokes or sitting slightly too close to them for his liking

He’s more sad than mad if I’m honest, and as suave as he is, he thinks he’s lost you to them

May or may not threaten them, it depends on how he’s feeling, however he always has time for a passive aggressive comment

Miss Pauling

She doesn’t get jealous often but it does happen now and again

But on the rare occasion that she is genuinely green with the big j word, she is very curt and monotonous with her responses and completely buries herself in her work

she’s practically run on a motor when she’s jealous, she can’t stop filling out file after file of paperwork

If asked about it, she acts like everything is fine and that you should focus on yourself instead of her, but Miss Pauling your pencil is about to snap you’re gripping it so tightly-

She won’t be rude towards the person she is jealous of, she finds no point in that, but she does make sure to keep an eye on you both when you’re together

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brelione · 4 years ago

Text

Gentle (JJ Maybank X Reader)

Warnings:All smut,not requested im just a whore.The reader had a relationship before this with Rafe.This is really short.

He had you pinned against the wall,kissing you.Your hands tugged at his hair,biting on his bottom lip lightly. “Fuck.”He groaned,his hands undoing his belt,unzipping his jeans and letting them fall to your carpeted floor.

“Look what you do to me.”He grabbed your hand,placing it over his boner.Your eyes widened,not realizing just how big he was.He chuckled at your reaction,guiding you onto the bed,taking his place on top of you. “You alright,princess?”He asked,noticing how tense you were under him.

You shifted,propped up on your elbows.You had had sex countless times but never with JJ,you couldnt even understand why you were so nervous. “Yeah.”You answered,not sounding too sure.He frowned,kissing you gently.

“What’s wrong?”He asked,trying to figure out why you were so uncomfortable. “I-it’s just….youre a lot bigger than Rafe.”You admitted,feeling heat rush to your face due to the confession.He chuckled,kissing your forehead. “I mean,I figured.If you dont want me,its fine.”he reassured you,his body no longer pressed against you.

“No-I do im just nervous...just...be gentle.”You requested,letting him pull off your shirt. “Alright...come on.”He pulled you off the bed,telling you to get on your knees.You pulled down his bowers,hands shaking slightly as you ddi so.

“Its okay,baby.Take what you can.”his fingers traced over your temple and cheekbone lightly.You nodded,kissing the tip lightly before taking him in.He moaned,hands going to the back of your head.He looked down at you,silently asking permission to set a pace.You took him in a bit more,letting him know he could.

He was practically fucking your mouth,his cock hitting the back of you throat repeatedly.He was a moaning mess,tugging at your hair as he panted,telling you how good you were over and over again.You kept gagging,your eyes getting watery but you couldnt care less.

He pushed you off of him,panting.You looked up at him,confused.He didnt say anything,just had you get back onto the bed,unclipping your bra.He bit his lip,looking down at your chest,kissing your breasts lightly before sucking on your nipples,loving the sound of your moans.

His hands went down to your pants,unbuttoning them.He pulled them down your legs slowly,placing them on the floor.His finger tips pressed into your hips,leaning up to kiss you. “You sure about this?”He asked,looking into your eyes.

You nodded,letting him know that you were positive.He grinned,kissing you lightly before moving down back between your thighs.He slowly pulled down your underwear,staring up at you with a smirk on his face,pressing a kiss to your clit before licking a stripe through your slit.

You let out a soft moan,making him grin,continuing.He slid a finger inside of you,beginning to pump it in and out of you,sucking on your clit.You could feel every move of his tongue,moans slipping out of you.Rafe usually cared more about himself and getting to his release rather than taking care of you.But then again Rafe and you just had random hook ups when he was high out of his mind or when he was bored.

It was different with JJ though.He wasn't high on coke or going unnaturally fast,he was gentle and sober,adding a second finger and listening to your moans,wanting you to feel as good as possible. “Good girl...you take my fingers so well.Can't wait to see how you take my cock.”He whispered,adding a third and picking up the pace a little,not going too fast or too slow.

You whimpered,your head turning on the pillow,focusing on a spot of the ceiling as you reached your high,a lout moan ripping though your throat and echoing off the walls as your fluids got all over his fingers,your inner thighs and the blanket that was under you,clenching around him.

He smiled,chuckling before licking the leftover cum off his fingers. “Still want more?”He asked,willing to back off.You nodded,thinking that the question was ridiculous.He kissed your stomach,giving you the time to catch your breath and calm down a bit after your first orgasm.

He lined himself up with your entrance,your heart beating quickly. “Ready?”He asked,waiting for you.You hesitated,nodding. “Gentle.”You reminded him.He nodded,kissing your forehead and slowly entering you,groaning. “Shit.”You whimpered when he was about 3/4s of the way in.

Nothing had ever pushed past that point.He paused,looking down at you with a confused expression. “Do you want me to stop?”He asked,not quite understanding.You shook your head,nails digging into his back. “Slower.”You whispered.

He nodded,taking his time.It took about ten minutes until he was fully in you,kissing your neck lightly. “You okay?”He asked,rubbing your waist gently.You nodded,allowing him to start moving.He went slow at first,letting you adjust. “Why Rafe of all people?”He asked,speeding up ever so slightly.You let out a low moan,tugging at his hair.

“Why are we talking about Rafe right now?”You asked,a moan coming out right after.He grinned,kissing your forehead. “Because i’m better than him,arent I?”He asked,hitting a particularly deep spot,making you let out a moan that sounded straight from a porn film he had seen.

“Yes,JJ.You’re so much better.”You admitted,his fingernails leaving crescent moon imprints on your hips. “Of course I am.”He sucked a dark hickey on your jaw.You just had to thank the universe that your parents werent home. “You alright,pretty girl?”He asked,plunging in and out of you.

You nodded,clenching around him for the second time that night. “Good job,princess.You take me so fucking well.”He smiled,feeling the warm fluids around him as he pulled out of you,kissing your cheekbone and laying down next to you. “JJ.”You whispered,turning to look at him.He hummed,raising an eyebrow. “I love you.”you mumbled,a blush coming onto his cheeks.

“I know.”He grinned,earning a smack on the chest from you.He chuckled,rolling on top of you. “Fight me!”He exclaimed.You grinned,poking his chest. “I love you!”You exclaimed,laughing as you got him off of you,wrapping your bare legs around his upper torso,arms around his shoulders. “I love you too,darling.”He turned his head to kiss you,smiling.

@nas-marie-loves-u @28cnn @sexytholland @yuxsh06 @ifilwtmfc @cherryobx @poguestarkey @n1ghtsh4d3-67 @poguestyleskye @judayyyw @sunwardsss @meaganjm @sarcasticsagittarius1998 @jj-fic-recs @homophobicclownmoviestan @jj-iz-bae @natalie-kate-98 @negativity4you @nxsmss @ofmaybankheart @broken-jj @joshy-obx @outerbongs @copper-boom @httpstarkey @teenwaywardasgardian @drewswannabegirl @simonsbluee @jiaraendgame @khiaraaa-in-spacee @on-socks-off

If you’d like to be tagged in all future JJ imagines/headcannons/series comment with a heart,if you’d like to be tagged in all future Pope imagines/headcannons/series comment with a smiling face,if you’d like to be tagged in all future Rafe imagines/headcannons/series comment with a frowning face,if you’d like to be tagged in all future Kiara imagines/headcannons/series comment with a question mark and if you’d like to be tagged in all future Sarah Cameron imagines/headcannons/series comment with a plus sign.If you’d like to be tagged in all Kelce content coment with a “>” and if youd like to be tagged in all Topper content comment with a “%”.Or if thats too complicated you can just comment whose name you’d like to be tagged in.

#jj maybank #jj maybankxreader #jj maybank imagine #jj x you #jj maybank oneshot #jj imagine #jj outer banks #rudy pankow #rudy pankow imagine #rudy pankow gifs #outerbanks #outer banks #jj maybank smut #jj maybank headcanon

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finalgilmoregirl · 4 years ago

Text

just in time (bucky barnes x reader)

summary: bucky hears your music in the middle of the night, and sees you in your natural state for the first time. lightly inspired by the song ‘just in time’ by tony bennett !

warnings: none :) just fluff !

a/n: ooooo first one-shot & it’s of bucky! yay! i hope you enjoy this, ive had this idea in my head for weeks & im glad i’m finally writing it. acne is something i struggle with so i can relate to this and maybe you will too! <3 also sorry for any mistakes!!

————————————

It was another one of his many sleepless nights. Even after months of therapy and his nightmares actually lessening, there still came nights where he was afraid to go to sleep. No matter how comfortable he got, Bucky was still anxious at the thought of his mind forcing him to dream of his old life, afraid of seeing the faces of the innocent souls he killed.

He couldn’t stand just laying in the dark either. Bucky felt like he should’ve been doing something if he wasn’t sleeping, but he felt far too tired to even want to do anything else than sleep. All he wanted was to relax.

As he turned over for what felt like the hundredth time, he heard something. At first he thought it was someone talking, but the voice didn’t sound like anyone he knows in the compound....’Is that music?’ he thought.

The song sounded familiar, and thanks to his super-soldier hearing, he was quick in identifying the specific voice. Tony Bennett.

He was a fan of the singer. When he was busy catching up on music and pop culture, he found himself listening to music from the 40s and 50s the most. He felt at home listening to songs with big bands playing in the background and raspy voices singing the lyrics.

He was no longer tired as he pulled the messy covers off of his body and began to stand up. He was curious to know who was listening to music at this hour. Maybe even praise them for their good music taste. As he walked down the hall to the door next to his, he was pleasantly surprised to learn the music was coming from your bedroom. He could see the dim light coming from under your door, and now he was curious to why you were up so late, seeing it had to be at least 2:30 right now.

Surprisingly, Bucky wasn’t as nervous as he thought he would be, considering he was standing at your door in the middle of the night. He’s had a growing crush on you since you first joined the team, around 4 months after he did. Now it being a little over a year and a half since you joined, he’s gotten comfortable around you to the point where he can talk to you about most things, even the nightmares that came back now and then.

And of course you had the same feelings for him, he was just as suave as you imagined, him being known as a ladies man in the 40s. Although he was more timid now, after getting him to open up, you would’ve never guessed how much of a delight he was to be around.

He knocked on your door, and it wasn’t until after he did that he realized what he was doing. ‘Knocking on a girls door in the middle of the night, are you crazy?’, he thought as he felt his heart beat a little faster. ‘What if she was asleep? What if she was working on something? What if she had company?’

All those thoughts cleared in a second however, when you opened the door and looked up at Bucky’s tall frame in the dark hallway. You were wearing a t-shirt that was definitely 3 sizes too big, and biker shorts that peeked out the bottom of the shirt. Your hair was in a ponytail, fly aways and loose strands framing your face. He looked at your face once again, barely visible in the dark light, Bucky only able to make out your eyes and lips.

“Bucky? What’s up?”, you asked, a hint of confusion and even worry in your voice. Bucky forgot why he was here until he heard the music again.

“I couldn’t sleep and I heard your music. Just thought I’d come by to see where it was coming from.”, He said, shrugging his shoulders and putting his hands in his sweatpants pockets.

“Oh my god. I’m so sorry! Did I wake you?”, You quickly asked, now feeling guilty at the thought of him not being able to sleep because of you.

“No, no! I was tossing for hours doll, don’t worry it wasn’t you. Just couldn’t sleep, is all.”, He assured you.

You sighed in relief as you opened the door more, wordlessly inviting him in. He accepted your silent offer and sat on your bed as you went to the record player in the corner of your room, turning it down a little, so you would be able to talk without having to raise your voices too loud.

“You like Bennett?”, Bucky asked, sitting on your bed. You giggled and turned to where he was, and nodded. “Yeah. Something about music like this just makes me feel safe. I don’t know it’s weird.”

“I don’t think it’s weird. I love it. Reminds me of the good ol days.” he said, laying back on the bed with his hands under his head, even though the pillows were just a few feet away. You hummed as a way to show him you understood.

“Sorry I don’t look presentable. I wasn’t really expecting guests.” You laughed with a hint of nervousness, sitting cross legged and facing him.

He furrowed his brows and turned his head, and that’s when he got a clear view of your face.

Your bare face.

He was a little surprised to say the least. He’s never seen you without makeup. In the entire time he’s known you, you’ve always worn it every single time he’s seen you. Always powdered up to perfection with your long lashes curled and shimmer making your face look almost reflective in the light. But this was the opposite and he was at a loss for words.

“You- You’re not- your face....”, he stuttered. He didn’t mean for it to come out as mean. If anything his heart was soaring at the sight of you. However you thought differently.

“Jeez Buck. Way to make a girl feel good about herself.”, you said, covering your reddening cheeks with your hands. “What you’ve never seen a girl without makeup? I knew it was bad but I-“

“No no no!”, he interrupted. He lightly grabbed your wrists and lowered them, so he could get a good look at you. “I was just surprised. You look just as beautiful without it. I’ve never seen you without makeup and I just, wow. You look adorable.”

He started to observe your clean face, taking in every freckle and scar. Every little splotch of red and the light bags under your eyes. He was seeing a side of you he’s never seen before, and another side he fell in love with after only seeing it for a second.

“Oh stop.”, you rolled your eyes. “I wear makeup so you wouldn’t have to see my flaws, not so you can stare at them.” she joked, but Bucky could tell this was something she struggled with.

“C’mon doll you think a few scratches are gonna scare me away? You think I like my scars? Nothin’ to be ashamed of.” he said, patting your leg and sitting up to be at eye level with you, even though he still had to look down, him being taller and all.

You looked so natural and pure. Glowing, even although that could’ve just been the lotion you’d applied earlier. You felt your cheeks burn for a different reason too. He said you were beautiful in what you thought was one of your worst states.

“I don’t think you should wear makeup anymore.”, Bucky stated, confidently. You snorted at that.

“Of course I have to wear makeup Buck, I have to look presentable. I can’t let people see me like this.”, you sighed.

“Well at least don’t wear it so much around me. It’d be a shame if I didn’t see this at least once in a while.” he yawned, laying down, this time his head on a pillow.

This wasn’t unnatural, you had movie nights and hung out in your room in the past. He knew he was getting brave though, falling asleep on your bed, when you hadn’t even invited him in the first place. But he couldn’t help it. He actually felt relaxed.

“Alrighty then, Soldier. I’ll try not to. But just for you.”, you said, nodding. You lied next to him and faced him. You started to feel brave too.

“Y’know...”, you started. “I had a bad dream. That’s why I had my music on. I was hoping it would help me sleep. But I guess with you here, maybe I’ll sleep even better.”

Bucky just smiled. You pulled your thick blanket up to cover the both of you and got comfortable, almost laying on him with how close the two of you were. He draped an arm on your side and continued observing your face. He was still fascinated by it.

And just moments later, you fell asleep. Bucky did too, a few minutes later, with the voice of Tony Bennett playing softly across the room, the song feeling perfect in this moment.

'Cause love came just in time

You found me just in time

Then you changed my lonely life

That lovely day

a/n: thank you for reading!!! :) don’t be afraid to leave a request and tell me what you thought. <3

#bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes angst #marvel masterlist #avengers imagine #winter solider x reader #bucky barnes #sebastian stan #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan imagine #bucky barnes smut #avengers fluff #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes fanfiction #little marvel baby fic

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littlebitoffanfic · 5 years ago

Text

No Neighbours

Fandom: Original Works Relationship: Goblin (Erx)/reader Request: perhaps a goblin x reader but the goblins the same height as the humans just with the same facial features? I always love the librarian meets an author plot line

The library of your childhood village had always been your favourite place to go. When you were little, and lived with your parents, you loved the library and even when you moved to a different town, you were sure to visit the libraries. You could argue it was research, as you were a writer. You mainly wrote under another name, a male one, because you found it helped. You had only lived in this small village for 3 weeks, having just moved here after a dispute erupted in your last village that you simply didn’t want to be part of. The village was welcoming, to say the least. You had a small cottage in a quant lane with neighbours who seemed to spend most of their time in their garden, or chatting to each other. You had a sneaky suspicion that you wouldn’t be able to do anything without someone knowing, but luckily your childish days were behind you. The only exception to this seemed to be your neighbour to your left. A goblin, he seemed to be a breed of the ‘giant goblins’. They weren’t giants at all, but compared to their normal counterparts, they were about double the size, but still bore similar features. A normal goblin was about 3-4 foot tall, whereas your neighbour was about 6 foot tall. He had a long, crooked nose, grey/green skin and grey eyes. He wore a pair of spectacles that always sat perched on the edge of his nose and had jet black hair which was always in place. You assumed he was only in his early forties, as goblins aged quickly in their early years then live for a while without changing. He owned and solely ran the local library, unlike most of your retired neighbours. You had found out from Ms Little, a lovely Naga who would bring you apples from her trees, that his name was Erx Biddier. Unlike the others, he never came round and introduced himself to you. The other told you that he kept himself to himself, very rarely talking to them, but he had a good heart despite his constant scowl. That was why you put off going to the library to begin with. You didn’t want him to think you were stalking him. So you gave it some time before venturing out. You knew your way around the village fairly well now, and you had eyed the library well before now. Much like the rest of the village, the building was old, but had a lot of character in it. It stood almost as large as the church, with a few stone gargoyles on the very top of the building. Stepping inside, you couldn’t help but smile as you saw the rows upon rows of books. You were excited to see what gems you could find. Villages like this had lovely books, that had never left the town. There was a few desks in the centre of the library, with shelves of books around the outside with the back half of the library being dedicated purely to books. You all but walked right by the front desk, only having your attention caught by someone clearing their throat, rather annoyed. You turned back, seeing Erx sat behind a desk, looking at you over his glasses, a book open on the table. “Oh, sorry.” You apologised, walking back to the desk. “Is it possible to get a library card.” Erx shut his book and stood, turning away from you to go into a back room that was behind the desk. Part of you thought maybe he had just walked away from you. But after a few moments, he came out with a few bits of paper and a pen on a clipboard. “Fill this in.” He held out the clipboard to you, and you took it with smile. Of course, you had filled in these sorts of forms before. Glancing over it, your eyes landed on the address. “Do you really need by address?” You laughed a little, trying to make the atmosphere a little less tense. “Yes.” He grunted as he sat down, opening his book again and finding his place. You managed to stop yourself from sighing before walking up to the desks in the centre of the room. Sitting down, you scribbled down all your personal details, only pausing as you tried to remember your postal code. “1DH 349A” Erx spoke without looking up from his book, making you giggle as you scribbled it down. Once complete, you walked back up to the main desk and holding out the board. Erx glanced up at you over his glasses before taking the board. “Neat writing.” He commented, placing it down on the desk before pulling out some blank cards. “My mother always told me that she judges someone based on their handwriting.” You giggle fondly at the memory. “Shes not the only one.” He mumbles, writing out your name and the date on the card. You admired his own handwriting. Despite his long fingers that seemed to curl unnaturally around the pen, his handwriting was lovely. He handed you the card, and you took it with a smile before venturing into the library. You took a good 45 minutes before returning to the desk with 3 books in your hands. Erx looked up at you over his glasses, a twinkle of enjoyment flashed in his eyes as he glanced at the books in your hand. You couldn’t help but feel a spark in your chest. He was certainly handsome in his own right, and you wouldn’t deny you had noticed him when he was leaving and returning to his own home. He always dressed like a gentleman, with a suit and tie. As you left the library, you decided to nip into the show quickly. When you came out, you saw Erx closing up the library for the day. You thought about just heading straight home, but something about your early exchange left you craving his company. He had a sharp tongue and a witty mind, something which you enjoyed in conversation. So. you took a chance. “Hello.” You smiled as he descended the few steps that lead to the building. You paused at the bottom, waiting for him. “Did you get lost?” He looks at you over his glasses and seemed genuinely concerned. “No, I had to get some groceries.” You held up the small bag to confirm your reasoning for still being out. “ahh.” He hums, but you notice something. He moved his weight from foot to foot, almost as is he were nervous. “Although, im still not sure about my baring’s yet. Do you mind if I walk home with you?” You ask, lying through your teeth this time. You knew the town fairly well, and the way home was pretty straight forward, but it was a bit of a walk. “You’ll follow me whether I say yes or no.” He states, raising an eyebrow. “you got me.” You giggle and shrugging your shoulders. “Very well. But hurry up. It will rain soon, and I don’t need those books being returned damaged. Theres fines for that.” He gave you a harsh glare, but you saw right though him. Despite the glare, you saw the way his eyes lit up at the offer, or how quickly he raced to add about the books to make it seem as if that’s the only reason hes worried about the rain. you nod, and the two of you walk side by side. Erx holds his hands behind his back as he walks. There was a comfortable silence as you walked, one you didn’t want to break because it was nice. No forced conversation, no awkward small talk. As you approach your homes, you saw the curtains twitch of a neighbour. “Good evening, Miss [l/n].” Erx bows slightly. “Good night, Mr Biddier.” You return the words, keep the tone as formal as his. But as you start to continue your walk to your home, Erx pauses. “How did you know my name? I haven’t introduced himself to you.” He asks, a mixture of genuine concern and confusion in his eyes as you turn back to him. You panic, quickly deflecting his question back. “How did you know my name?” You ask. “Your form.” He raises an eyebrow at you, knowing he had you cornered. Feeling a little sheepish, you came to stand in front of him. “Ms Little told me.” You confessed. “I hadn’t met you and felt guilty not knowing who my neighbours were, so I asked her.” You added, not wanting to get her in trouble. “Well, some fault lies with me, I suppose. In any case, my first names Erx. Now, have we passed introductions? I am not like the others around here who still demand you call them by a title.” Erx showed no signs of irritation or annoyance for your snooping, instead offering a way forward. “Im [y/n].” You smile and nod. “I know.” Erx looks over his glasses at you, amusement in his eyes. “oh, the forms.” You cover your face with one hand out of embarrassment. “I’d better be getting home before you think me completely stupid.” “Do you know which ones your house?” He chuckles, and you feel it set your heart racing. “I think I have a 1 in 3 chance. If you hear screaming, assume I guessed wrong.” You fire back, eager to show him you could match his wit.

From then on, you grew close with Erx. you visited the library frequently, and he was more than happy to sit and discuss books for hours at a time. Only a few people seemed to visit the library each day, so you had him to yourself without feeling guilty of stealing him away from his work. You found yourself reading books quicker, just so you could race back to him and discuss characters, plot points and themes. You noticed that you seemed to be the only person that Erx really spoke to. He greeted people as they passed him, and wasn’t mean to anyone. But you got the feeling that they somewhat annoyed him. Idle chitchat and small talk was something he seemed to loath, and you truly saw that when he started speaking about something he was passionate about, like books. One day, you went to replace your book. “Do you have any suggestions?” You call from the back of the library. By this point, you had discovered that he had quite the knowledge of most books there, and he seemed to know what you would enjoy. “hmm.” He stands from his desk. “There was one which I thoroughly enjoyed.” He walked past you before stopping and picking a book off the shelf which you instantly recognised. “Here we are.” As he holds it out to you, you couldn’t help but laugh. “Have you read it?” He asks, confused by your reaction. “Read it? I wrote it.” You take the book which had your pen name on the front and the title in golden letters. “You…” Erx trails off, looking at the book. “Yes, this is my pen name. anything with this name is mine.” You tap the name, looking up at Erx again. You saw a smile pulling at his lips, apparently impressed by your work. You felt your chest swell with pride at the thought of him reading and enjoying your books. You now held his options quite highly. “well, that is quite the turn of events.” He mumbled, looking back to the shelves. “Perhaps, I could ask about your next piece?” “I could do you one better. I’m about half way through. I normally ask my friends to read over what im doing just to make sure it all makes sense and whatnot. Perhaps, you could act as a proof-reader?” You cock your head to the side, stepping close so you were right by his side and nudging his arm a little. “I’d be honoured.” He grins with a nod.

You never could have predicted the turn your friendship would take with Erx. You would spend nearly every evening in his company, either had your or his. You much preferred his home. You were still kind of living out of boxes, while his was homely and warm. His book collection was vast, and he had his own personal library, compete with every one of your books so far. You signed every single one with a quote from books that you both enjoyed and your real name. But as you got closer and closer, you felt yourself yearning for him. You hated when you left him and would try and stay with him as long as possible. Not that he was pushing you out the door. You found yourself staying at his till late into the night, just talking or sitting together reading. You knew people were starting to speculate something was happening between you two. Ms Little had mentioned it while she was pouring tea. But you shrugged it off, saying you were just friends. But you were sure she could see you wanted more. One evening, you were round and noticed he seemed off. He couldn’t seem to settle, or was deep in thought. You tried to ask if he was okay, but he denied anything was wrong. “Its getting late.” He suddenly said, drawing you up from your book. You were sitting on the floor by his fire, your back against the couch while he sat in his armchair in his library. “Its only 7.” You frown, looking to the clock. You had come over to his at 6pm, so you hadn’t been here long at all. At least compared to your normal visits. “Its late, [y/n]. perhaps you should go home.” He says this time more pointedly. “Oh, okay.” You nodded, getting to your feet. “Is everything okay?” “No.” he answered, not looking at you. He stared at the fire, staying sitting. “I don’t think we should continue spending so much time together.” The words hit you like a ton a bricks, and you felt yourself sway a little. But things had been going so well. You thought it might even lead to something romantic. “Did-did I do something wrong?” You couldn’t help but ask, unsure why he would put a wall up between you so quickly and suddenly. Immediately, you saw his eyes soften as he looks up at you. “No, its nothing you’ve done, [y/n]. it’s the people around here. You don’t want to get too closely associate with a goblin.” He stood, turning away from you with a sign. “I don’t care what people might talk about. I cant control their tongue.” You try to reason with him, unsure how you could change his mind. You knew him well enough to know he thinks things through carefully, methodically. “People are already talking.” Erx shakes his head, glancing towards the window and out into the street. Then to you. You couldn’t think of a way to persuade him to think otherwise without confessing how deeply you had grown to love him. And that wasn’t something you were ready to admit to. You felt your heart ache as you knew the best thing to do now, is to follow his instructions. At least for a bit. Give him some space, and speak to him against perhaps at the library. “People will talk, whether or not you give them a reason to.” You shrug, picking up your book. You hated the ache in your chest as you headed towards the door. More so, you hated the tears that were pricking your eyes as you avoided his eyes. You walked straight passed him, keeping your head low. A hand grabbed your forearm, stopping you. You turned your body slightly, looking up to Erx. He seemed just as surprised as you had. Like he didn’t mean to grab you, yet he couldn’t let you go. A soft sign left his lips, as if he had given up, as he stepped closer and used his free hand to reach up, using his thumb to wipe away some fallen tears from your left cheek before settling his palm on your cheek. You leaned into his touch, your eyes falling shut as you did so. His hands were cold normally, but the coolness was welcoming. You felt his hand loosen on your forearm as your arm dropped back to your side. You opened your eyes, looking up at Erx. Your eyes darted to his lips before back to his eyes. ‘fuck it’ a voice mumbled in your head. He’d already made it clear you couldn’t be friends, might as well know what its like. going up on your tiptoes, you kissed him. You expected him to pull back, chastise you and push you out the door. But he didn’t. his hand grabbed your waist, pulling you tight against his chest. You stumbled a little, catching yourself by putting your hands up onto his chest. You dropped your book in surprise, but the clatter didn’t stop his own action. Slowly, he kissed you back. Painfully slowly, and passionately. You grabbed fistfuls of his shirt in a weak attempt to keep him as close as possible. His hand left your cheek, slipping around to the back of your head. You couldn’t help a soft moan that left your throat as you allowed yourself to enjoy the kiss. and Erx groaned against your lips, deepening the kiss further as he pulled you against him with a new found need and desperateness. You were the first to pull back, gasping softly for air as you tried to make sense of what just happened. It would seen Erx came to a conclusion before you did, letting you go as he retreated away from you and turning his back to you. “You should go.” He mumbles, removing his glasses to rub the bridge of his nose in frustration and… regret?. You couldn’t believe it. He had just kissed you like that, like nothing else mattered, and he was sill telling you to leave. grabbing you book from the floor, you couldn’t help but feel frustrated and angry as you gave up. Walking to his front door, you made a point of slamming it behind you.

Time flew, and before you knew it, you would have to face him sooner than you had hoped. Your book was due back, and you didnt want to leave it any longer, so you went to the library. You were dreading it, having not seen him in a week. Yet the kiss was still fresh in your mind. The weather was horrible. The winds were strong and nearly knocked you off your feet a few times, but you just managed to get into town without being swept away. As you entered the building, you noticed Erx sitting at his desk with a book open. But he wasn’t reading it, instead he was looking intensely at the shelves of books. So intensely that he didn’t seem to notice you had came in until you cleared your throat. “[y/n].” He breathed, standing up as you approached the desk. “I came to return this.” You presented him the book. Erx took it, but he seemed to linger as his hand brushed against your fingers in the exchange. He quickly checked in back in, placing it in the pile of book that were to be put back out. You also noticed that the pile seemed a lot bigger than he usually allowed it to get. In fact, you had helped him put them back out before… “Do you have any suggestions?” You ask, trying to regain some scraps of the friendship you had had with him from before. “No, Im afraid I do not.” He answered, shaking his head as he avoided your eyes and sat back down. You couldn’t contain the hurt look that spread across your face, but you pulled yourself together to go into the shelves. You eventually chose an old favourite of yours. You had checked it out a few times and, since it was a classic, there were normally 2 copies on the shelf. But this time, there was only 1. Shrugging it off, you took the book back to the front desk. Erx opened it and, after noticing that the date slip was full, he got to his feet to grab some more from the back office. Looking down at the book he was reading, you realised something. Careful as to not loose his place, you picked it up and looked at the cover. It was the duplicate of the very one you were about to check out. You heard him in the other room and quickly but the book back down in its original place just in time as he came back through. You decided to try again to connect with him as he stamped your book. “What are you reading?” You asked, noticing how he glanced at the book. “Nothing.” He shut you down again, not wanting to discuss the book or analyse it. Not even wanting you to know it was your favourite book. You knew he knew because you had spent many nights speaking about it and its beauty. “Oh.” You signed, your shoulder sagging as you gave up. He handed you back the book and you nodded goodbye to him. Walking towards the door, you opened it and immediately regretted it. The heavens had opened and the wind was now accompanied with lashing rain. You let out a grown, looking up to the sky for any chance at a hint of blue. “You can stay and read. There a charge for returning books damaged.” Erx’s voice suddenly spoke with an unfamiliar softness that you hadn’t heard in a while. You wanted to say no, but you wanted to stay with him. To speak with him. But in truth, you were far too chicken to be rejected or shot down again, so you muttered a thank you and closed the door. Taking a seat at the desks in the centre of the room, you opened your new book. But you couldn’t shake the feeling that he was watching you. Looking up, you noticed his eyes dart back to his own book. How had you gone from being so close to like strangers, unable to say a word to each other. You knew neither of you were reading, and he hadn’t turned the page of his book in a few minutes, conforming to you that he was simply staring at the pages. Sighing, you knew you had to say something. “I never cared.” You mumbled, not looking up at him. “[y/n], you know as well as I that a relationship between us would be looked down on.” Erx countered you, sounded like his own frustration was building. He knew exactly what you were talking about, because he had been thinking about the same thing. “By who? You?” You snapped, finally looking up at him. To this, his brow furrowed as he glared intently at you. “Don’t accuse me-“ He started to snap at you but you cut him off. “I’m calling it as I see it. You don’t seem to care about what others think of you normally, except when it came to us. I don’t care, either way. I do what makes me happy as long as it doesn’t hurt anyone in the process. If you don’t want to be in a relationship with someone of another species, then just say it. Stop hiding behind a veil of what other people say.” You slam your book shut, ending your argument. As you stood to leave, you wished he would grab your arm again, like he had the other night. You walked up to his desk and he stood. You placed the book down (no matter how angry you were, you couldn’t take it out on books). You wanted him to tell you to stay because HE wanted you too. But he didn’t. Glancing back as you neared the door, you saw him sitting back down with his glasses off, rubbing the bridge of his nose before his head fell into his hands. You left the library with tears running down your cheek.

--------time skip -----------------

You knew better than to stay somewhere that had given you such heart ache. You didn’t have any ties to the village, so you could up and leave without issue. You had weighed out everything in your mind and decided it would probably be for the best. You saw Erx nearly every day and every day made your heart ached for him. You knew it would be best to get some space from each other. You started with small things, deciding to tell the neighbours that you had to go home to help family and do it suddenly. One evening, you were packing up some boxes when someone knocked on your door. pushing the boxes under your table, you got up and walked to the door. Opening it, you were surprised to see Erx. you hadn’t seen him since the library three weeks ago. “you’re moving.” He didn’t pose it as a question. He knew. “how-how…” you trailed off as Erx quickly came inside. Apparently, he had more to say rather than confirming what was being said. “the neighbours. They are all speaking about it.” He nods towards where the street was on the outside of the house. “Oh my god, they really do know everything.” You frown, wondering how they had figured that out. Then you remembered the boxes you had bought at the store. Someone must have seen you. You quickly pulled yourself back into the moment, knowing he was here for a reason. “I have to go back to my family.” You state. A very simple excuse that no one would question. “Don’t lie to me. Im not some withering old fool.” Erx snapped at you. He seemed genuinely angry about it. “I don’t see how its any of your business if im moving or not.” You cross your arms, not impressed at all by how he had barged into your house and called you a liar. He looks at you, in the eyes, for the first time in a while. All the anger and frustration visible left his body as he looked at you. “I wont see you again.” He flinched at the words, dropping your eyes as he frowned to himself, as if he had finally let the realisation dawn on him completely. You let your own arms drop to your side, the hostility no longer in the room. “I-I thought it would be easier. For us both.” You admit your true reason for leaving. “Easier.” He let out a breath of disbelieve as he turned back to you. “It was easier before you came here. I didn’t care about anything other than my library. I kept to myself and everyone left me alone.” “Everything will go back to normal after I leave. You’ll be alone again.” You tried to assure him, to comfort him but he just got adjected again. “No, I don’t want to be alone again. I want you.” He said, his voice dropping as he finally confessed something he hadn’t even let himself indulge in. Suddenly, Erx felt like a pitiful creature. He backed away from you, ringing his hands together as he fought every instinct he had to run. You stood there, your mouth having fallen open from his words. “You want me?” You repeat back to him, unsure if you had heard him right. “But you-you wanted me to leave. You’re the one who said it couldn’t be between us.” “it cant. It wouldn’t work.” He shakes his head, contradicting everything he was saying. “I don’t understand.” You throw your hands in the air in frustration. “Ive told you, people don’t approve of relationships between humans and goblins. They look down on my kind and I’ll never be good enough for you.” He matches your frustration as he starts to pace in your living room. but something he had said stuck. “Is that what this is all about?” you breathed, walking up to him as he freezes. “You don’t think you’re good enough.” “I don’t ‘think’ it. I know it. And so does everyone else.” Erx shakes his head, shutting his head as if trying to hid from you. Walking up to Erx, he opens his eyes when he hears the floorboard creaking. You saw a bit of fear in his eyes as he saw you approach him. But you threw your arms around his shoulder and locked them around his neck. You buried your head into his neck, unsure if you could look him in the eyes without crying. It took him a moment to respond, but his arms wrapped back around you securely. “You’re so wrong.” You mumble as you press a soft kiss to his neck, feeling him tense up. “I don’t care if you’re a goblin. Goblin or not, I love you for who you are, not what you are.” “Love?” He pulled back staring at you with wide eyes, his eyes only enlarged under the glasses. He searched you for any sign of hesitation or regret for your words. He signed, looking away from you. “Im afraid romance isn’t my speciality. I never had any interest in the books nor have I had any personal experience.” He confessed, and you felt yourself prepare for rejection again. “But, you? I fail to find the words to describe how I feel for you.” “Then show me.” You look up at him, pulling back enough so he could turn his head towards you and capture your lips in a kiss. This kiss wasn’t as slow as your first. It was desperate, and needy. Both your hands settle on the back of his head as he pulled you tight against his chest. it felt so right, kissing him. You loved it so much, you loved him so much. You pulled back for a moment for breath before kissing him again. You felt him smirk against your lips, enjoying it as much as you did. When you finally pull back for a proper breath, you cheeks were bright red and you were panting slightly. “Perhaps, I do know a word which is adequate. However, I feel its meaning is played with too loosely by many nowadays. You must understand that I have yet to say it to a romantic partner, ever. So it isnt something I say lightly.” “What word.” You basically begged, clinging to him as your heart fasted. “I love you.” He breathed, making you smile and kiss him passionately again, despite to show him you felt the same. You felt him growl softly against your lips, and you answer with your own moans. You ran your right hand down the side of his head, your fingertips gently passing over his long, pointed ears and causing him to shiver under your touch. You were so glad that the rumour that all Goblins ears are super sensitive was true. “I love you too.” You smile as you pull back, over the moon that he had told you such a thing. Because you knew he truly meant it. He smiles softly, his eyes flickering with love and joy for a moment before he seemed to realize something. “I should go. They are probably watching the house, waiting to see when I’ll leave.” He glares at the closed curtains. Yet he seemed to pull you tighter, as if his mind was fighting his heart. “Or you could just… stay.” You partly shrug, drawing his attention back to you. He studied your face, unsure if you were just joking or being earnest. Erx seemed unable to find any words, so opted to lean down and kiss you softly as he silently accepted your offer. The neighbours were certainly in a tizzy and, because the next day was a Saturday, neither of the two of you left your home. It wasn’t till Sunday evening when he left to go home. It was shrugged off that you were moving, most people thinking you had just been using the boxes to sort something for the attic or something. And as you continued to live in the community, you noticed that they mainly gossiped out of worry. No one seemed to care when Lisa, the daughter of the baker married someone she had known for 6 months. But they did gossip when Marcus ran off in the middle of the night. Occasionally, the older people would give you and confused look, especially when you were out with Erx, but he took those looks more personally than you did. Until, one evening 8 months later, you all but ran to his door. He opened it and you only just got inside when you told him that there was a cottage on the outskirts of the town. It overlooked most of the town, with its own land and road into the village. “No neighbours?” Erx asked, raising his eyebrow at you with a smirk on his face. “No neighbours at all.” You grinned and nodded. Within a month, the deed was signed with both your names. Although, you did have to admit, you always came back to your own street, to sit with Ms Little on her porch and ‘discuss’ everything you had missed.

#goblin #goblin x reader #erx x reader #Monster #monster love #monster boyfriend

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bakugous-abs · 5 years ago

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Hello my favourite writing blog c: May I can request a small sceneria with Dabi having a little mental breakdown after fighting with endeavor and his crush comforting him? He is so overwelmed that she/he is caring about him, that he finally has the courage to tell them that he is in love with them.

Hello :D I’m going to assume this was after the Dabi and Endeavor fight (192) and that this is a Dabi Todoroki-esque request? I’m sorry if that was obvious or not at all what you wanted school is kicking my ass lmao. I hope you enjoy! -Bomb

The blood, the pain, the emotional turmoil, it was all too much. He was only back at the base for mere minutes before his body gave out on him and he collapsed to the floor. The only good thing is that everybody else was somewhere else so they wouldn’t be able to see him cry and shake like a freezing wet chihuahua, though he wouldn’t even be able to stop if someone walked through the door anyway

He was on his hands and knees, hands and arms barely supporting his upper body weight as his body racked with sobs. It felt impossible to get the air into his lungs, and all he felt was dread and fear creeping up his spine. His legs, forearms, and lower lip tingled, going numb. Jesus christ this was fucking stupid

He’s seen Endeavor on tv numerous times and heard him on the radio countless more. He’s watched Endeavor walking down the streets and seen those piercing cold eyes stare just a couple feet away from where Dabi stood. But actually interacting with the fucker was a whole different story apparently

Memories came flooding back into his head during the fight. As he created that wall of fire, he remembered the hours of isolation where he was forced to strengthen his quirk despite his body’s low tolerance

As the staples came loose and the blood leaked from the edges of his charred skin, he remembered the excruciating hours and days he spent in bed, unable to move because the pain was too much on his frail nine-year-old body while being treated by a specially paid doctor

As that one cold eye stared at him with hate, he remembered those same colored eyes staring at him with utter disappointment every time he fell during training

Endeavor was a bad person and an even worse father

He was momentarily thrown out of his continuously looping thoughts when he heard the door open, almost instantly recognizing the familiar pat-pat of the footsteps as yours. He cursed himself, trying to make his body stop, but it was no use. Years of pent up emotion were pouring out and they wouldn’t stop

“Hey, Im ba- Dabi?” You called into the bar, only spot Dabi’s slumped shaking form on the floor. “Dabi!”

You raced forward, kneeling down instantly next to him and putting a hand on his back. He almost withdrew from the touch but was immediately met with a feeling of safety and comfort

He thought that you’d instantly chuck question after question at him, but instead, you relaxed next to him and began to gently rub his back, feeling every tremble of his muscles. And soon, after it became prevalent that Dabi didn’t know how to calm himself, you began to speak

“Hey Dabi, can you look at me?” You asked, leaning forward just a little

Slowly he moved his head to look at you, bloodshot turquoise eyes looking at your own e/c ones

“Alright. Copy me. Breathe in-” you breathed in, “then out” and breathed out

He hesitated but made an attempt to copy you. It was sloppy at first, but he found your rhythm and stabilized his breathing

Once he had found your rhythm and was doing it all on his own, you got up and went to behind the bar, fortunately finding some bottled water and opened it. You don’t know how he had become like that, but judging by the slight smell of burnt flesh and the blood on his arms

Before going back to Dabi’s low sitting figure, you grabbed the medical kit from below the counter. Opening it, you rustled through the things you might need. Upon finding everything it in there, you grabbed the kit and the bottled water and walked back to your emotionally drained… crush

Wordlessly, you sat down and set the bottled water near his hand in case he wanted it. But as he saw the bottle, he scoffed

“I don’t need water, I need liquor”

“As if. If there is going to be any alcohol around you right now, its the alcohol in this medkit. Fortunately, you won’t be needing that considering Kurogiri keeps the floor unnaturally clean”

A light smile pricked his lips. He had always appreciated you. In the little ways and the borderline hero ways

From the way you twirl your hair when you’re nervous to how you’ll quickly come to rescue your colleagues. From the fucked up skin around your fingers as a result of your bored peeling and bitting to right now as you took the time to hand him water and treat the newly charred skin on his chest, abdomen, and arms. From your absolutely stunning e/c eyes to your quick fingers wrapping around his open wounds

Every little fucking thing you did, it was enough to send his heart squeezing and racing. He always thought he appreciated you enough, but now seeing you sitting on your legs, taking gentle care around his hand and feeling your fingertips press so softly on the back of his hand, he realized he doesn’t. Not even in the slightest

He wanted you to know that he appreciates you in every single aspect. The way you look to the very fibers of your personality, he wanted you, and you alone. No one else mattered. Tomura, Himiko, Endeavor. If his world was just filled with nothing but you, there would never be a complaint out of his mouth

Before he could let your hand slip away, he held onto it

He caught the confused expression on your features. You looked up at him for answers and were met with his smile and gleaming turquoise blue eyes. He saw the way your cheeks glowed ever so slightly

He took it as a sign

“I don’t think you understand how much I like you”

“Wanna bet?”

And with a smirk replacing that once sincere smile, he crashed his lips onto yours, finally knowing his feelings, the ones he pushed away and suppressed for so long, weren’t for nothing

#Anonymous #BNHA #boku no hero #boku no hero academia #mha #my hero academia #bnha blog #mha blog #admin bomb #Dabi #dabi x reader #todoroki touya #todoroki touya x reader

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myheroacademiashorts · 5 years ago

Text

Rock Versus Needle

Request: Basically Kirishima already got a few piercings, but he’s worried his quirk will break the tattoo gun at the shop he’s at so he enlists Shinsou to brainwash him… Also Kiri looking really blissed out and dazed? ( By @ride-the-bifrost )

Prompt: (Requested) Kirishima was fine with getting piercings, but after one disaster at a tattoo parlor, he realizes he won’t be able to ink his skin unless he enlisted some help… And Shinso just happened to be in the neighborhood.

Pairing: Shinsou x Kirishima

Rating: Fluff! (Beginning of a romance?... ;3), some dirty thoughts

Words: 4,464 (DID I GO OVERBOARD?! IM SO SORRY)

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“I’m sorry, you want me to do what?”

Shinsou stared at his red-haired friend, one brow propped up in slight surprise. The pair sat in a quiet cafe, with a cup of steaming coffee in front of each of them. However, both mugs sat untouched. Shinsou leaned forward, trapping his beverage between his elbows as he clasped his hands above it, resting his lips against his thumbs thoughtfully. Across from the table was Kirishima, who was currently fiddling with the stud in his earlobe. He was nervous, that much was easy to see, but Shinsou wasn’t exactly sure why. He leaned back in his chair, violet eyes scanning over Kiri’s figure as he patiently waited for a response. He let his eyes linger on the visible piercings that his friend already owned, from the dark studs in his lobes to the silver hoops that climbed up the shell of his ear. On each of his eyebrows was a curved barbell; one of his latest piercings added to his ever expanding collection.

“I wanted you to use your quirk on me… At a tattoo parlor.” Kiri’s voice was unnaturally quiet, and his tongue darted out to swipe his bottom lip, the steel of his tongue piercing glinted before disappearing back into his mouth. Part of Shinsou wondered how that cold steel would feel against his own tongue, but he quickly shook the thought away. He didn’t want to start another hopeless crush; not after the first one failed so drastically.

Kiri sighed, louder this time, and dropped his head into his hands on the table. “It was just so… So embarrassing!” Shinsou winced at his volume, which was bordering on wailing at this point, and noticed a few of the other customers glancing in their direction. “I knew it was going to hurt, but I wasn’t expecting my quirk to go off and break the poor guy’s gun! He said it was okay, but I gave him money for a replacement anyways, and oh man… It was just so unmanly of me to not control myself. And now I’m scared to do it again, not because of the tattoo gun, although that little guy is expensive…” Kiri was starting to ramble, acting oblivious to Shinsou’s presence and disappearing into his own thoughts. The action reminded Shinsou of Midoriya, and a small grin flew across his lips. “And money isn’t much of a problem since we’re pros now, but I don’t want to gain the rep of the one guy who’ll destroy your tattoo gun in the blink of an eye, ya know? And-”

Shinsou waved his hand, halting Kiri in his verbal tracks. “Okay, okay. I get it. Did you ever have the same problem with your piercings?”

“No! Those were practically nothing; the pain was there for a second, then gone! But as soon as that needle hit my skin…” He shuddered at the memory. “Man, I’ve been told that it was going to be painful, but that was not like being scratched by a cat, let me tell you!” Shinsou grinned at that answer, knowing what he was referring to. When he had gotten his first tattoo, the artist had told him the same thing, that ‘it’ll feel like being scratched by a cat over and over, no worries honey!’ when in actuality, it was much worse than that. Shinsou knew what it felt like to be scratched by a cat - he had several of them to know - and that was not it.

“Alright, I’ll help you… on one condition.” Kiri’s face brightened up almost instantly, and Shinsou wanted oh-so-badly to lean across the table and smash his lips to the other man’s, yet held back. “If I do this, you’ve gotta cover for dinner.” Kiri laughed at the trade, immediately agreeing and beginning to bubble with excited chatter. Shinsou, however, found himself with a sense of dread; he said he didn’t want to get another crush, yet here he was, setting up dinner for him and a supposed friend that he may have been a little attracted to… Okay, maybe a lot attracted to. He knew he shouldn’t have been, but after the break up between Kiri and Bakugou, Shinsou had become the red-head’s closest friend. He didn’t want to ruin that because of feelings, and he didn’t plan to. Sooner or later, they’d disappear, Shinsou told himself.

Right?

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If Kirishima was going to be honest, he was terrified of asking Shinsou for his help.

As the two continued down the sidewalk, towards the tattoo parlor that was just able to squeeze Kiri in for a quick appointment, he couldn’t help but continually glance at his violet-eyed friend. Did he think Kiri was more unmanly now? Was he debating on staying as his friend? Did Shinsou hate Kiri for asking him to use his quirk for something so silly? Kiri hoped he didn’t. He liked having Shinsou as a friend, and his looks weren’t all too bad either. Not that Kiri would ever say that aloud; he valued their friendship too much to lose Shinsou because of a little crush.

Kiri looked away from Shinsou, instead daydreaming about the things that have happened to him so far to get him to this point in life. After him and Kat- Bakugou had broken up, Kiri had felt so lost. They’d been glued to the hip since high school, dated for 2 years, before Kirishima had ended the relationship after catching the infamous hot-head in a not-so-accidental position with his “arch nemesis” Midoriya. First, he had been upset, crying for what felt like forever and locking himself in his apartment… Then he was angry, to the point that he made it known to the tabloids who Ground Zero had an affair with, when it had happened, and so forth; all with his usual bright smile on his face. Essentially, it had plummeted Bakugou to the bottom of the popularity scale, especially since he was pretty mouthy to begin with.

After ruining that, Kiri started to go more heavily on his piercings. Before, he only had the two innocent studs in his ears; but that quickly escalated to the metal that now climbed up his entire ear, to the piercings on his eyebrow and tongue, and finally to the most painful of the piercings on his, ahem… miniature Red Riot. Now that was a pain he wasn’t expecting either, but it still didn’t punch him the same way as the attempted tattoo had.

He looked at Shinsou again, catching his violet eyes in his own amber ones, and felt a light blush rise to his cheeks. Shinsou cocked his head to the side. “Are you nervous? You seem to be zoning out.” Shinsou asked curiously. Kiri immediately shook his head, placing a grin on his lips and flashing two thumbs-up in his friend’s direction. “Nah, I’m ready to go! Let’s get this rolli-”

And then he walked straight into a telephone pole.

“Kiri!” Shinsou grabbed his upper arm just as Kiri began to stumble backwards, eyes dazed and blinking, as if unsure on what had just happened. “Jeez, are you okay? You should’ve looked at where you were going instead of at me. I know I’m handsome, but still…” Shinsou’s attempt at a joke managed to make Kiri laugh, if only slightly, before he gently shook of his friend’s hand from his bicep. “I’m okay, I’m okay! I’ve taken tougher hits than that, you know!” As if to prove his point, he activated his quirk and hardened his face, sharp teeth still out for display in a face-breaking smile.

Shinsou sighed, running one hand through his unruly hair, but smiled back nonetheless. “Good thing we’re almost there. You’re sure you’re alright?” He reached a hand out, brushing it against Kiri’s forehead softly. Kiri’s face erupted with heat, turning as red as his dyed hair. “Y-yeah! I’m okay! Weshouldreallygetgoingcmonletsgo.” He practically spit out his words before rushing forward, placing both of his palms on his cheeks as if to hide his blush. Jeez, was he a high school girl in a shoujo manga or something? Hopefully Shinsou didn’t think that was too weird. He risked glancing behind him, watching as Shinsou’s eyes furrowed but followed close behind him.

Shinsou wasn’t exaggerating when he said they were nearing the tattoo shop; it sat at the corner of the street, a neon light blinking in its window to signal that the doors were open to all who dared to enter. For a moment, Kiri felt a chill slide down his spine, and a flashback to the days prior. He was about to turn around and call it quits for the day, yet Shinsou’s hand stopped him. It was warm against his bare forearm, and as the sleeve lifted up, Kiri could see the beginning of his tattoo. Kiri gulped. Not because of nerves, as Shinsou probably thought, but because Kiri had the urge to turn around and abandon the shop to instead shove the quiet man into a wall and kiss him until their lips were bruised. He jumped back for a moment, forcing Shinsou to drop his hand, and grinned weakly. “No time to waste!” He managed to slip the words past his lips before entering the building, trying to shake off the yearning feelings that were beginning to build. He could hear Shinsou sigh behind him, but didn’t think much of it; if Kiri had turned around to look at the purple-haired man, he probably would’ve noticed that Shinsou might’ve been having the same yearning thoughts as him.

The tattoo shop was clean inside, with one wall lined with seats and the other with framed artwork, most likely from the artists available. Straight across from the doorway was a long bar-like surface that blocked off the artists from the customers until both were ready, and in front of the register was a young woman with hair dyed as green as her vibrant eyes. She lifted her attention from her book just as the pair entered, a friendly smile growing on her lips.

“Shin! Long time no see!” She greeted the hero, placing a marker in her novel before closing it. “Were you here to add to the collection already?”

Shinsou laughed, and Kiri noticed the way his shoulder seemed to slouch with comfort. Oh, Kiri thought, eyeing the pair as they talked. This isn’t any tattoo place; this is Shinsou’s go-to. Knowing that the place was one that Shinsou held at such a high regard made Kiri feel warm inside, as if he was making a prominent connection with the violet-eyed man. He stared at the back of his head longingly.

The girl at the front desk craned her neck, eyes straying from Shinsou to instead land on Kiri. Her grin seemed to widen, if that were possible. “And I’d recognize that firetruck-red hair anywhere! Red Riot, am I right?” Kiri shook himself out of his trance and stepped forward with his hand out and his usual smirk. “That’s me! But call me Kirishima, since I’m off-duty!” The comment made the girl tip her head back and laugh as she met his large hand with her small one.

“Well, you’re funny at least.” She said, shooting a look in Shinsou’s direction as if to give him a signal. He shrugged her off, and she redirected her attention back to the awkward pro-hero beside him, releasing his hand in the process. “Have you come to add some ink to that virgin skin of yours?”

“How did you know?”

“Call it a woman’s intellect.”

Shinsou snorted, and dodged just seconds away from being smacked in the face by a flying pen. “Don’t make me angry, or I’ll make your next tattoo your last!” She threatened, although it held no malice in its words.

“Oh! Are you an artist too?”

She looked back to Kirishima with a wicked glint in her eyes. “Oh, I’m the artist to go to, honey. I go by Bambi.” She pointed to a small cardboard sign to her right, and Kiri read the store’s logo for the first time; Bambi’s Ink Corner: For All of Your Good and Bad Decisions.

“So! Since we’ve established that, was there any design specifically I could do for you?”

Feeling more at ease than before, the three of them moved past the bar and further into the parlor, sitting down in plush seats. Shinsou and Kiri sat beside one another, shoulders brushing, with Bambi across from the pair with a sketchbook opened up on her lap and balanced on her knee. Bambi forced Kiri to dictate a majority of the conversation, eyes jumping from her book to the red-haired man as she encouraged him to continue talking about himself, throwing in a few questions here and there. Not even five minutes had passed before Bambi had raised her hand up, halting Kiri mid-sentence. “Okay, I think I’ve got it. Let me know what you think- actually, you come over here. Let’s keep it as a surprise for Sir Stares-a-Lot next to you. Have you even blinked in the past few minutes?” She directed the jab at Shinsou, who rolled his eyes as he looked at Bambi instead, as a light blush dusted his pale cheeks. Kiri, ever so gullible, only blinked in response and moved towards the woman, eyes flitting down to her sketchbook.

Almost immediately, his eyes widened in shock. “Woah! This is amazing!” He gasped, earning a tinkling laugh from Bambi. Shinsou raised a brow at the pair, but kept his lips tight. “Is this for me?” Kiri finally connected the puzzle pieces together, and his face brightened after Bambi nodded.

“We could get the outline done today, and if you decide that you want it colored later on, we can do that too.”

“Y-Yes! That sounds amazing!”

Bambi smiled, and stood from her chair. “Alright! Let’s get started, then. Follow me.”

Kiri could feel the nerves kicking in once more, and he risked a glance at Shinsou, who had already gone back to staring at him. Immediately his ears reddened, but Shinsou didn’t move his gaze. “You’re going to do fine. I’m here for you.” The words probably didn’t mean too much, yet they still had Kiri mentally squealing at how romantic it seemed to sound. Instead, he squared his shoulders and followed Bambi. Shinsou’s shoulder brushed Kiri’s once more, yet Kiri brushed it off as an accident, not realizing that Shinsou liked the warmth that radiated from the red-head’s body. Even if Kiri didn’t realize, Bambi did, and she shot Shinsou a wiggle of her eyebrows.

“Alright, Rock Man. Any specific place you wanted to get this bad boy?”

“Ah… Maybe my back?”

“Back it is, then. Shirt off, stomach down on the table.”

Kiri shot another look at the quiet man accompanying him. Kiri was in fit shape - he worked out constantly, even when it was his day off - but suddenly he felt insecure to show it off in front of Shinsou. After a moment’s hesitation, however, he grasped the hem of his t-shirt and yanked it over his head in one swift movement.

Shinsou had to fight the urge to stare down at the other man's bare torso, and crossed his arms over his chest self-consciously as he risked a glance at the tattoo artist instead. Luckily, Kiri’s face was still hidden in the cloth of his shirt, since the look on Bambi’s left Shinsou with a blush and a stutter. Of course Kiri’s body was well-toned; he was a Pro-Hero of Japan, after all. Compared to his own body, however, Shinsou was a stick. A lanky, lanky stick. Idly, he wondered if Kiri would appreciate his body the same way that Shinsou would. The blush on his pale cheeks deepened.

With the shirt out of the way, Kiri followed Bambi’s directions, arms tucked under his cheek as he rested on his stomach, his toned back out on display for all to see. He shot his purple-haired companion a nervous grin. “This should be a piece of cake, huh?” He laughed, although his voice held the same tenseness his eyes did.

Bambi began prep immediately, slapping on a pair of vinyl gloves and wiping a semi-clear liquid on Kiri’s back. Automatically he jumped up, the coolness of the gel waking him from his own thoughts, and Shinsou smiled at his reaction. “You’ve already got it traced and ready to go?” Kiri asked, eyes moving to Bambi as she sat on a nearby stool, dropping dark ink into a tiny container that was barely the width of Kiri’s thumb. While this was his first tattoo, Kiri had seen enough of his friends get them, as well as the numerous ‘What To Expect…’ videos that flooded his computer. Bambi swung her attention to Shinsou, eyes narrowed, but quickly answered the question. “Of course Shinsou wouldn’t tell you, but I don’t need to. That’s my quirk, sort of; seeing things that aren’t there. So while you don’t see any stencil, I can. All in my mind’s eyes.” She tapped her temple, smirking. “It’s great for a tattoo artist, but not so practical for a Pro-Hero, ya know?”

Kiri breathed out a sigh of relief, yet his shoulders were still tense, especially when Bambi placed her gloved hand on his shoulder in warning. “Ready?” Her voice was light, and came right before the buzzing of the needle. Kiri’s ruby eyes strayed to Shinsou, whose gaze was already trained on the tattoo victim. “Are you ready?” He repeated the question, and after a moment of hesitance Kiri nodded. “I’m ready to roll-” He cut himself off, eyes glazing over as Shinsou’s quirk quickly went into effect. A twinge of guilt rolled through the silent man, yet he clenched his teeth as he remembered that Kiri had asked this of him. “Keep calm, okay? Don’t use your quirk until I say you can, and don’t move no matter what.” Shinsou’s voice was deep, and sleepily Kiri nodded in response, hazy eyes still trained on Shinsou as Bambi began to start. Kiri wasn’t even fazed by the needle as it dug into his skin; instead, a blissed look had overtaken, and a chill ran down Shinsou’s spine as he realized how… dirty his red-haired friend looked at this moment. He repeated his command to Kiri in his mind, tasting the dominance of them, and felt his cock twitch. Don’t you dare, he commanded, glaring at himself. You damn pervert. You’re just helping a friend, so keep your head. He turned back to Kiri, Bambi fixated intently on his back as she worked, and continued to speak softly to the dazed man. “Stay relaxed. What makes you relaxed? You can tell me.”

Although a part of Kiri was lost to Shinsou’s quirk, another part was completely aware of the situation. He knew his body wasn’t responding to him, and knew it was because of Shinsou’s quirk; and he didn’t mind. Not one bit. Partly because he trusted his friend to not cause him any harm, but also because he could stare at his friend so plainly without any worry of being caught. He liked the way Shinsou’s tired eyes stared at him too, unflinching and unwavering. It soothed him. His mouth moved just as the quiet man had asked it to, and Kiri wasn’t sure if the answer was correct or not. “Flowers relax me. Carnations have the best smell, and they remind me of my mom’s house. A warm bowl of ramen with pork. Your eyes. Rom-com movies where…” Kiri’s dreamed-out voice faded from Shinsou’s attention as he froze up, registering the red-head’s words as he leaned forward. His eyes? That wasn’t what he was expecting.

“My eyes? Why?” He asked softly, and Bambi’s eyes flitted to his for a moment before she reabsorbed herself back into her work, tuning their conversation out. Kiri blinked slowly, and a dazed smile graced his lips as he answered. “They’re always so calm. I like that. They make my thoughts go quiet too, and that relaxes me.” His voice was quiet, still holding its usual Kiri-charm, yet more soft somehow. Kiri was always loud, even when he didn’t mean to be. Was that what he meant? That Shinsou’s eyes could quiet him down? Or was Shinsou just grasping at straws?

He shook himself out of his thoughts, ready to talk once more, before Kiri piped up again. “Your face relaxes me, too. Especially when you smile, which you don’t do a lot.” He sighed, his eyes closing for a moment. “I want to make you smile a lot.”

Shinsou felt giddy, which was rare. Was this a confession of sorts? It sounded like one. He wanted to pursue it, so badly that he almost wanted to jab at Kiri until his drunk-like state had spilled all of his emotions, but Shinsou knew he couldn’t do that. It’d be unfair to Kiri, and just imagining that situation happening to himself seemed embarrassing enough. Instead, he pursed his lips, letting a few beats of silence carry that conversation away, before continuing to murmur words of comfort, keeping Kiri under his control.

Kiri, on the other hand, was absolutely mortified.

How could he say all of that?! Oh god, if there had been any moment of his life where he had thought this is the most embarrassing moment of my life, then this would be it. He couldn’t even control what he was saying, yet listening to himself spew out the truth like a water fountain had him mentally banging his head against a concrete wall. And Shinsou’s reaction! It was so blank, shock only registering for a millisecond before it was wiped away. What was he thinking about all of Kiri’s words? Did he not like him in that way? Of course he didn’t… doesn’t. Kiri swore to himself. Why would he? You’re nothing special.

The session went on for at least an hour - Kiri wasn’t sure, but it felt longer than that - until Bambi finally dropped her needle onto the metal tray to her side. She swiped the back of her hand over her glistening forehead. “Okay! Done for the day!” As soon as the words had left her lips, Kiri’s eyes flooded with life once more, and he gasped at the newfound soreness that covered his back. It didn’t hurt, not at all; he compared it to a bruise. A very, very big bruise. Shinsou was right beside him in a moment. “You alright? How’s your head?” The concern was endearing, but all Kiri could focus on was the palm resting on his outer shoulder, as Shinsou’s face reflected back in his mind from earlier. His cheeks exploded in red. “G-good to go!” He shouted a bit too loudly, and practically leapt out of his chair, wincing slightly at the sudden movement.

Bambi, of course, almost threw a fit when he moved, and lightly slapped his bare chest before finishing him up, hiding the new ink with a large black pad and securing it with clear plastic wrap. She explained the care instruction to him, even handing him a print-out of the instructions as she continued to speak, and it was at that moment that Shinsou realized he had no idea what tattoo his friend had gotten. He hasn't strayed from the red-head’s eyes the entire time. He mentally cursed himself as Kiri gingerly replaced his shirt back onto his torso.

“It’s pretty big, so make sure to wash it carefully in an hour or so. Shinsou’s gotcha if you need help, which you probably will. Right?” Her bright eyes strayed to the said man’s and he nodded. “Great. Well, thanks for the business! Head home before it gets dark, okay?”

“Wait! I haven’t paid yet!’

Bambi snorted at Kiri’s response. “Well, of course not. Shinsou already did that.”

Kiri immediately turned to Shinsou, nearly breaking his neck in the process. “But- Why- You didn’t-” He stumbled over his words, and Shinsou grinned. That seemed to shut him up quickly enough.

“Think of it as a belated gift. You’re welcome.”

Kiri’s face bloomed. “Jeez, man. You’re too nice.” He raised his hand to rest on Shinsou’s arm, but paused in mid-air, before deciding to gently fist-bump his shoulder instead. As Kiri headed to the exit, Shinsou cocked his head at him in confusion. From the counter, Bambi sighed. “Ugh. You two, I swear.” She muttered, but before Shinsou could question her further, she rushed forward and practically shoved him out of the shop, promptly locking the door behind him. He grunted at her force, and luckily Kiri had turned around to see what the commotion was about to catch the purple-eyed man. “Woah! You okay?” Kiri asked, and Shinsou fought down the blush that threatened to rise as Kiri’s strong arms wrapped around his thin frame. It was a nice feeling, and Kiri’s body radiated warmth, making Shinsou wish to lean into him more. Hell, after the dazed conversation from moments ago, he almost did. Then he remembered that Kiri hadn’t been in his right mind during the time, and untangled himself from the red-head’s embrace.

“Yes, thank you.” Shinsou’s voice sounded uncomfortably stiff to his own ears, but Kiri didn’t seem to notice as he smiled. “Alright! Well, I was hoping you’d help me wash this bad boy when the time comes, and I’m pretty sure I’ve got the ingredients needed for some pork ramen… For some reason, it sounds really good right now. Are you interested?”

A hesitant lump lodged itself in Shinsou’s throat. Kiri’s apartment. Just the two of them. Was that even a valid question? “Sure. Lead the way.” Kiri pumped his fist into the air at Shinsou’s response, a beautiful grin spreading across his lips.

“All right! Let’s goooo!” He was practically skipping down the street, and it was only after he had turned away that Shinsou permitted the redness to spread from his ears to his cheeks. Awkwardly, he slapped his palms across them, as if trying to hide his embarrassment. Just friends. He repeated in his head, following the loud man as he tried to calm his racing heart. We’re just friends, and after I talk to him about my eyes, I’ll make sure of that. He doesn’t like me like that.

Shinsou continued to repeat the words in his head, not noticing how Kiri’s own face had heated up in a similar way as he walked. He had been repeating a similar mantra in his head, although the only difference in his was what if he feels the same way?

Kiri planned to get to the bottom of that question over a bowl of pork ramen, whether Shinsou was prepared for it or not.

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baby-daddy-bella · 6 years ago

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Hey! Can I get a Bowers gang ship? I'm 5'2 and very skinny. I have long hair, it's like a dirty blonde, with red in it. (Weird ik) I have hazel eyes. I'm shy until I get to know someone, or I'm just talking to a random person (there's no in between) I'm always tired. If I didn't have to leave my bed I wouldn't. I love to listen to music and read. I legit suck at all subjects in school but English. I'm kinda insecure. I have 5 over protective brothers. And when I'm not reading I'm watching TV.

Bowers Gang Ship

Request 3

A/N: HEY ALL, IM SO SORRY ABOUT THE HUGE DELAY ON THESE, BUT THEY TAKE ME A WHILE TO WRITE & I AM THE QUEEN OF PROCRASTINATION. ENJOY THIS ONE! I have been reading some really trash fanfiction atm as a joke (that accidentally turned into a weird, painfully hurtful addiction) and I have actually lost masses of brain cells from the experience. I’m sorry if this shitty because of that lmao. Requests are still open! REQUESTS ARE NO LONGER OPEN

I ship you with…

Patrick Hockstetter

(I promise they wont all be Patrick and Henry lmao)

> I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again…PATRICK LOVES SHORT GIRLS.

> He loves the potential of a hidden feisty temper (as a short girl, I know that this is true in most cases)

> The combination of you being short, skinny and generally shy means that Patrick views you as weak and incredibly inferior to him (even if this is not true)

> Due to this, he loves to both physically AND emotionally manipulate you

> Funky, cool hair? You gotta bet it’ll be wrapped around his lanky ass fingers 24/7

> This creepy ass boy LOVES to run his sweaty hands through that shit at any time he can

> 5 overprotective brothers? Patrick THRIVES in irritating them in any way possible.

> Whether it is continuously leading you astray, being really creepy & touchy with you around them, or even directly threaten them for practically no reason, he will do it just for kicks.

> You being insecure is also a huge point of his interest.

> Let me go off about this real quick

> Patrick, as we all know, does not properly understand or experience usual human emotion, including the feeling of insecurity, so he often has mixed responses when you are feeling particularly insecure.

> This greasy boy will either get super touchy-feely and treat you like an ABSOLUTE GODDES….or he will say/do something stupid and make you feel worse

> There is no in between

> He also uses the insecurity to keep you around, no matter what he does, as he realises that you don’t think you’re good enough for him anyway (bitch u are btw idc if you’re anon & idk who you are)

> He is initially intrigued by your usual shy nature around the majority of people and the way that you got flustered and nervous when he first tried to speak to you

> You guys often listen to music together and recommend new stuff to each other

> That usually happens when the two of you are laid in bed all day together, one of your favourite things to do together

> AND (get ready for some unnaturally soft Patrick)…

It was only two weeks into the new school year and you already had a huge pile of homework to do. The night was humid, so you had cracked open your bedroom window, put on a large t-shirt and sat down at your large desk to start some of it.

A light blue cassette player blasted ‘Like A Prayer’ by Madonna through your flimsy headphones, which were carefully balanced in front of your high ponytail. Unbeknownst to you, Patrick Hockstetter slid through your open window and set his dark eyes on your figure.

You already stared with a look of frustration at the maths equations that had to be completed by the next day. He watched you intensely, finding your struggle quite interesting. He watched, from across the room, as you twisted a pencil between your fingers.

A sigh left your mouth and you were startled when you took a passing glance in the small mirror on your desk. Realising immediately who the intruder was, you remained calm.

“How long have you been there?” You asked in a monotone voice, with a hint of a smile. You watched carefully in the mirror, as Patrick strolled towards you confidently, radiating confidence and amusement.

“Not long.” He simply said. Patrick clumsily grabbed the papers on your desk and dropped them onto the floor, causing some to flutter astray. He climbed onto the wooden surface and sat facing you. Having stayed perfectly still throughout his actions, you simply admired his features.

He roughly grabbed your chin and brought his lips to yours, engaging in a kiss that immediately became intense. You pulled away quicker than he wanted you to, leaving him slightly irritated.

“Sorry, Patrick, but I don’t really have time to do anything else right now. I’ve got a mountain of homework and most of it has to be in tomorrow, please don’t be mad.”

He nodded, leaning and turning his head to look at the sheet of paper that was causing you so much stress. His eyes scanned over it for a moment, as you were warmed by his attempt to help, “Oh it’s alright babe, you probably wont-” Patrick cut you off, “17.3.” he said. You smiled at the effort, but figured, since he rarely even turned up to class never mind paid attention, the answer must be wrong.

Patrick snatched the pencil from your grasp and turned the paper towards himself. He proceeded to write down a method and answer below the difficult question. Once finished, he slid it back to you. The method was perfect and now the answer made perfect sense. Patrick smirked at your astonishment.

“How the hell did you even do that?” You asked, with one eyebrow raised. Sure, you knew he was naturally intelligent, but you had no idea that he was blessed with the rare talent of being able to do such complex algebra…without a calculator.

He chuckled, “Guess I’m just smart, huh?” You smiled in return and he turned the sheet back around to himself and completed the rest of the equations.

By the time you had started your English essay, Patrick had already finished your maths homework. He slid off the desk and waited for you to move off of the chair for him. Only a moment later, you stood up and allowed him to sit down instead, before getting onto his lap.

Patrick watched, with his chin on your shoulder, as you completed the rest of your homework, with him contributing answers every-so-often.

You turned round to him once you had finished and straddled his waist, “Thank you for the help, baby.” You said quietly, placing a soft kiss on his lips. He smiled and twirled a piece of your hair around his finger. Finally, he had gotten what he had come for in the first place – you without any distractions.

#bowers gang ships #ship #bowers gang #Patrick #patrick hockstetter #Henry Bowers #victor criss #belch huggins #patrick x reader #requests open #xoteaguellif3

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silverstonesainz-archive · 2 years ago

Text

blurred lines

those boundaries are meant to be crossed... right?

summary: monza is for the dreamers and believers, for new hopes and shattered hearts pairing: charles leclerc x fem!driver (nicknamed fleur) word count: 6.9k warnings: google translate french; profanity note: blurred lines was a journey and a half to write. i hope you like it. i have one more request about it in my inbox that i will use to wrap up the series and im so very excited about it. thank you for following along on the journey friends. feedback is so greatly appreciated. masterlist

❃゜・。. ・°゜✼ ゜°・ . 。・��❃

Summer break comes and goes, aiding the sudden shift in yours and Charles’ relationship. Since that day he came by, you found it easier to reach out to him and were hearing more and more from him. It was almost as if you both had found a rhythm that worked, that was comfortable. Seeing him around the paddock no longer felt unnatural, no longer made you want to run in the opposite direction. There’s this sense of comfort when you see his face around, the little wave he gives you as he walks into his team's hospitality.

The universe and all the stars must’ve noticed because the Thursday of the Monza grand prix, you were both scheduled to do press together. The last time you had sat in that room with him was Monaco, a weekend you hate to remember. You’d be lying if you said that it didn’t make you nervous, knowing full well how relentless the media tends to be with not only you as a female driver, but also the fact you dated Ferrari’s golden boy. There was no ignoring the fact you were no longer together to the press, it’s far too obvious now with the lack of time spent over the summer and the fact neither of you are spotted in each others’ garages nearly as much. There were no pre and post race kisses, no running across park femme to congratulate each other on a good result, no more cheekily sneaking into each other’s interviews. Times have changed, and the world watching was no longer oblivious.

The air between Alpine’s beloved and Ferrari’s Il Predestinato has shifted, and it was no longer their little secret.

“You’re gonna be fine, Fleur,” Ella reassures you, “You know how to answer those stupid sexist mysoginistic questions. You’re a pro.”

“It’s not that Ella. This is the first press conference I’m having with Charles since… Monaco,” You gulp, “And I know we’re better now and there clearly has never been any animosity but still.”

Ella smiles at you sympathetically, nodding her head. “I get that, but there really isn’t anything the press can say or ask that they haven’t already. And like you said, no animosity. No hatred. Charles wouldn’t let them slander you. Okay?”

You smile back, though it reads as discomfort. Ella is right, you know she is. But it doesn’t keep the nerves at bay. It doesn’t stop your hands from getting clammy, or your heart from beating erratically the closer you get to the room. There truly isn’t anything anyone could’ve said at any given moment, to ease the need to throw up from all the nerves.

You’re already running late, and by the time you walk into the room, there is only an empty seat between Charles and Sebastian. Charles smiles up at you, and you return the gesture.

“Hi.”

“Hi.” You greet softly.

The press conference starts shortly, the mediator introducing each driver. Alex, Lando, Charles, Fleur, and Sebastian. They start the questions, starting with Alex and moving down the line. You listen to questions about Williams’ reliability and Mclaren’s new update package. There are questions flying about how the boys feel about the upcoming weekend, how they feel about their car this far into the season. And while they might gloss over those kinds of questions with you, you’re already mentally preparing yourself for the questions about your relationship and how you cope in the car as such a small and helpless woman.

“Charles, Monza is obviously an important race for you and Ferrari. What are your expectations for the weekend?”

Charles chuckles, shaking his head at the generic question. “The hope is always to win. To score points not only for myself, but for the team. And of course to make the fans proud.”

“Obviously, Monaco was a significant race for the both of you. And here now, Monza also proves to be another important one for not just you Charles, but Fleur as well, taking into account the wins and podiums she’s had here during her time in the lesser series. Charles, does it worry you at all that a woman might once again dominate you on a track where you have something to prove?”

You choke on air, looking over to Sebastian with an incredulous look on your face. He returns the same wide eyed gaze, shocked at the question as well. There is a bit of tension that is passed between the five of you, even Alex and Lando shifting uncomfortably in their seats and refusing to look anywhere other than their lap.

“Monaco and Monza aren’t the only tracks where I have something to prove. Every race, I try to prove that I deserve my seat, that I can produce results and make the people around me proud, and prove that I am worthy of being a champion, whether it is this year or in years to come. And I don’t worry about anyone other than myself. There’s no denying that Fleur is an amazing driver, capable of anything when she gets behind the wheel. I mean look at Monaco. I enjoy battling with Fleur, and frankly I look forward to doing it on a track she’s won on so many times before.”

“Fleur, any plans to take the top step from Charles again?”

The wording of the question catches you off guard, it’s very clear on your face as your eyes grow wide and brows furrow. “Excuse me?”

You can see the clear distress in the reporter’s face, the panic over the realization that maybe the way he asked the questions wasn’t appropriate. You shake your head, not giving the man a chance to redeem himself.

“Every weekend, the goal is to win. And while I can acknowledge how special this weekend is for Charles and all my friends in Ferrari, it doesn’t change the fact that I will bring my everything when I get in that car and hope for the best result. I aim to win in every race, as does every driver in this sport.”

You can see Charles looking at you in your peripheral vision, his eyes wondering if you’re okay.

“How has this sport affected your relationship with Charles Fleur, if at all?”

There it is, the question the world had been waiting to hear an answer for. You lean back into your chair, sighing softly.

“There’s always been a sense of competitiveness between the two of us, and I think it’s truly what brought us together in the first place. We’ve learned to work that into our… relationship, going all the way back to our karting days. But regardless of outcome, there has always been and will always be a lot of respect and love between me and Charles. Nothing will ever change that.”

“But you’re broken up, so clearly the sport has some negative effects.”

Again, there is distaste and annoyance on your face as your head snaps towards the voice. Anger courses through your veins, rushing all throughout your body. All you see is red.

“If I may,” Charles interjects, sitting up straighter in his chair, “Whatever has or hasn’t happened between Fleur and I has nothing to do with the sport. It has nothing to do with the cars or our race craft, and quite frankly does not need to be a topic of conversation today or ever. Like she mentioned, no matter how the race ends, it doesn’t change how much love and respect we have for each other.” You finally look over at Charles, who smiles at you reassuringly. A sense of comfort washes over you, and you feel the smoke coming from your ears beginning to dissipate. “We’d both really appreciate that from now on and moving forward, we will no longer be questioned about our relationship.”

A hush falls over the room, the press suddenly scribbling in their little notebooks furiously after Charles’s response. It takes a couple of seconds before the mediator speaks up again, asking if there are any other questions.

“Well Fleur, the fans do miss seeing their Beloved on the top step, what can we expect from you this weekend?”

You turn back towards the press, smiling. “Expect my baby Blue zooming through the track, and maybe a potential fight to the top with the banana cars.”

Laughter erupts in the room at your little jab towards Ferrari’s new livery. The questions shift over to Sebastian after, and soon you are saying goodbye and rushing out of the conference room. You ignore the calls of other journalists, of fans who are begging for a photo. You apologize, claiming to be late to another media appearance when in reality you’re just trying to get to your driver’s room to unload the tension in your chest. You hate the narrative the press so desperately tried to push. You hate the fact that being a woman in this sport, and the notion of being beaten by one is so frowned upon. You hate that for the entirety of that press conference, you felt less than who you truly are. You felt demeaned, felt your talent unappreciated.

You don’t do much else that Thursday, other than a couple more interviews and content for Alpine social media. When the sun sets, you’re the first one to leave. You lock yourself in your room, sliding against the door as tears begin to flow freely from your eyes. Finally, the questions, the looks, the deducing you down to being the only woman in a male dominated sport gets to you. You sob softly, allowing all the tension you’ve been carrying all day to leave your body.

You only cry for a couple more minutes before finally pulling yourself off the floor and getting ready for bed. Sleep has never been more inviting, especially with dreams of kind eyes and tender touches that make your heart ache. Your alarm pulls you from your slumber, forcing you to stand and start your day. You don’t have to be at the track for another couple of hours, but your schedule is still packed from the moment you open your eyes till you step into your car. The free practice sessions that Friday weren’t your greatest, but they did in turn provide information that will help you improve the rest of the weekend.

The paddock is filled with people in yellow and red on Saturday, crowding around who you assume to be Carlos based on the head of thick hair. You try to slide by, taking photos with whoever stops you and signing various merchandise until you finally slip into your Hospitality building. There are only several more meetings on your schedule before you can finally retreat to your driver room and change.

There is a soft knock on your door as you are slipping on your suit, and you open the door half expecting it to be a bored Esteban in need of some entertainment. But then you see the atrocious shade of yellow and you’re forced to take a pause.

“Hi,” Charles says, a pained smile on his face.

“Hey.” You step aside, giving him some room to walk in. “Everything alright?”

He nods wordlessly, finding his place at your desk. You tie your suit around your waist before sliding your door shut and turning to face him.

“Okay clearly, you’re not alright. What’s wrong?”

Charles takes a breath, looking up at you from his twiddling fingers. “I’m fine. Really I am… I was just thinking earlier about our pre-qualifying tradition. Do you remember?”

You chuckle, sitting down on your massage bed, nodding. “Yeah, of course.”

He smiles again, pulling out a small box of apple juice and handing it over to you. You grin widely, taking it and opening it up for yourself. It was a tradition that could be traced down to your fathers and your karting days. You smile at the fond memory of your dads handing the juice box to little you and Charles before you climb into your respective karts. It was a way to encourage peace and good sportsmanship between the two of you, even though your stubbornness and Charles’s high pride would always mean that someone would still be upset. It’s funny to think back to your karting days with Charles, how much you both have changed since then. The feeling is bittersweet.

Charles holds up his juice box, eyes on you. “Sois toujours en sécurité et je te verrai quand ce sera fini.” Always be safe and I'll see you when it's over.

You smile at Charles repeating his father’s words as you raise your juice box to quote your own. “Bonne route, je suis si fière de toi.” Have a good drive, I'm so proud of you.

And with that you both take a sip of the cold drink until the box is empty. Charles crushes the box in his fist before tossing it into the bin. “How are you feeling?” He asks.

“Better,” You admit, setting the empty box next to you. “I just can’t wait to move past this weekend honestly.”

“I’m sorry about the press conference.”

You shake your head, standing to toss your empty carton, “Don’t be. You didn’t ask the questions. Though, I haven’t thanked you for the things you said. I really do appreciate it. So… thank you.”

Charles smiles, “Of course.”

You stand awkwardly in your driver room, looking around the space you’ve spent many weekends in. It’s weird having Charles here after the events of Monaco, to have him sitting in his spot like nothing ever changed. It’s wrong just how right this very moment feels to you. You make the mistake to look back at Charles, who stares at you with his bright green eyes. The air shifts in the small space, suddenly the room seems so much smaller than it already is. You’re fighting the tension in your lungs, trying to ignore the way your heart is thumping quicker for no good reason.

“Feeling?” You finally ask. Charles tilts his head before he realizes what you are asking.

Before every practice, every qualifying session, and every race, Charles would ask you this. He’d hold your clammy hands in his own, trying to help you push through the nerves that always came to you before you climbed into your car. It was his move, never yours.

“Optimistic.” He responds. Charles rises from his seats, taking your clammy hands into his own before looking down at you. Butterflies swarm your stomach at the feeling of his skin against yours. “What’s on your mind?”

You breathe deeply, Charles' scent blurring your senses. There were a million and one things on your mind, you didn’t know where to start. Nothing seemed to make sense anymore, and you feel yourself finding the need to slip back into a sense of familiarity you’ve been missing for so long, even if it meant blurring the lines you so desperately tried to draw between you two. You look up at Charles, and he stares back at you with the same expression. A questioning look, eyes asking the other what is going on here.

Charles releases your hands, only to lift one to push a stray hair away from your face. His touch is like fire on your skin, and you feel him even as he pulls away.

“Tout ira bien,” Charles mumbles. You’ll be okay.

You nod. “Je l'espère.” I hope so.

He smiles in a way that usually eases your nerves. It’s soft, his dimples appearing, with kind eyes. Your eyes quickly dart to the clock behind him, reading just thirty minutes shy of qualifying. You look back at Charles, who is searching around until he picks up a black hair tie and hands it to you.

“Faire demi-tour.” Turn around.

You listen, turning around and allowing him to take hold of your long hair. You can see him through the mirror, the way his tongue pokes out between his lips as he expertly weaves your hair into a braid. It isn’t long until he reaches the ends of your hair, moving it over your shoulder so that you can tie it. You smile, mumbling a quick thank you and tying your hair with the black elastic. Mindlessly, you turn around to face him as you do so and when you finally look up at him, your faces are only inches apart. You breath hitches in your throat, your locks falling from your fingers as you stare up at the beautiful Monegasque man.

You see him leaning forward agonizingly slow. Your mind is screaming for you to stop him, but your heart beating loudly in your ears overshadows logic. You were slipping further and further into this false sense of security you both created in the confines of your driver room. But you didn’t care anymore, you simply couldn’t. To hell with those stupid lines and boundaries. You try to meet him halfway, but there is an abrupt knock on your door. The glass shatters around you, pulling you and Charles back to reality. You jump at the taps on your door, quickly stepping back from your ex-boyfriend and turning to your door.

“Fleur, let’s warm up.” Lo calls out.

“I should go,” Charles scrambles, “Andrea is probably looking for me.”

“He is,” Lo answers.

Both your cheeks turn a shade of red and you nod. “I’ll see you later. Thanks for coming by.”

Charles’s hand goes to the back of your neck, pulling you forward to press a soft kiss on the top of your head. And with that, he slides your door open and leaves to go back to his team. You ignore all of Lo’s questions as he trails behind you. You deflect, begging him just to start your warm up routines. He gives up, complying to your requests. But just because he doesn’t talk about it, or that you refuse to say a word, doesn’t mean that the memory of Charles nearly kissing you isn’t replaying in your head over and over.

Even as you slip your helmet on and climb into your car, Charles’s still on the forefront of your mind.

“Alright Fleur, everyone is on softs. Currently on the track are Latifi, Albon, Schumacher, and Stroll.”

“Copy.”

First session of qualifying flies by, your time securing you comfortably at P6. The second qualifying session is where your car begins to slip from you. You were fighting tooth and nail with Pierre and you managed to secure P10 by seven-hundredths of a second. Frustration grows within you, and it doesn't help that Lucas is in your ear and rubbing Charles’s time in your face. You know he isn’t doing it on purpose, and that really it’s his job. He had to let you know what everyone else’s times are. It isn’t his fault that even if he is reading ten other names you only focus on the Monegasque. His stupid eyes and stupid lips are taunting you, coming so close and so far.

“Lucas, I’m telling you, something is wrong with my car.” You say, pulling your helmet off your head as you attempt to get out. He shakes his head, holding your shoulder to push you back into your seat gently.

“Fleur as I’ve said, the data is telling us otherwise. Your car is fine, functional. Don’t think of pole, we just wanna be ahead of the Mclarens.” Lucas says to you, “Just focus on that for now. Then when quali is over, we can look over the data again.”

You groan softly, nodding. “Fine. Fine… let’s go.” You huff, pulling the helmet over your head as you wait for your go signal to leave the garage.

The third qualifying session was grueling. You could feel yourself sliding around, constantly losing your rear, driving over the curb and truly just out of it. Lucas was in your ear, scolding you about protecting your floors but you snapped at him to shut up and let you focus. You try to push those soft green eyes and gentle touches out of your mind as you push your car to its limit. At the end of it all, you qualify a pathetic P6, just behind Lewis. It’s clear you are frustrated as you yank your helmet and balaclava off, stomping over to the stewards to get weighed before you return to the garage.

No one attempts to talk to you, to assure you that you did a good job in comparison to your teammate, who only managed a P11. Media flies by, and soon you are in your team briefings analyzing data. Your stomach turns at the reality that your poor performance was all in your head. You allowed yourself to be distracted by your earlier encounter with Charles, about what could’ve happened had Lo not unknowingly interrupted. You had everything to prove, and somehow you still fell flat.

You don’t like the way the Monegasque is in your head, the way he fuels you with doubt and confusion. It’s not his fault, you know it was never his intention to distract you. Hell you doubted if Charles even expected it to go that far. You know you didn’t when you let him into your room that day. But yet here you are, still thinking of the way he smelled, how close he stood next to you, his gentle fingers in your hair as he braided it away from your face. Every single thing, blurring the line between friendship and more.

You ignore the texts and calls blowing up your phone as you step into your hotel room. All you wanted to do was wash the day away and to wake up ready to race. Your sleep is dreamless this time, and you wake up that Sunday morning only slightly refreshed. After a morning workout and some breakfast, you make it onto the paddock in time for one more strategy meeting with Lucas and the rest of your team. You ignore those kind green eyes, the way they look at you like you hold the world in your hands, the same ones that taunt you in the back of your head. You ignore the ghost of his fingers, the way they feel on your skin as they push your hair from your face. Sunday meant full focus.

Just you, Blue, and the podium.

Under thirty minutes until race time. Mechanics are scrambling, left and right, as they prepare for the next fifty-three laps. You climb into your car, circling the circuit before pulling into the third row of the grid, your team already waiting for you. The day is hot, sun beating down on your skin as you observe the chaos around you. Just a sea of people, moving and lifting, laughing and talking, brushing off nerves before it’s lights out. Daniel is not too far from you, Mick and George already with him on the grass. You smile, picking up your water bottle and going to sit with the three.

“Well well well,” Daniel grins as you plop down in front of him, “Look who it is. Fancy seeing you here.”

“Ditto.” You smile, taking a sip from your straw.

You listen intently to their conversation, not really giving much input and just enjoying the company. It isn’t long until Alex is finding a spot next to you, bumping his shoulder against yours.

“Feeling alright, Fleur?” He asks, looking over at you.

You nod. “Yeah, I am. Just ready to race. Got a podium to catch.”

Alex laughs at your comment and you grin widely. There is suddenly a rush of people making their way towards the front of the track, and it was your cue that the national anthem was about to start. You jog to the front, finding your place in the second line of drivers. The anthem plays and you drop your head, eyes squeezing shut as you slowly begin to set yourself straight. You focus in on your memory of the track, fingers twitching as if you’re pressing the buttons on the steering wheel. The song comes to its end, and people begin to move around you quickly. You zip up your suit, fiddling with your balaclava as you make your way back to your car, but not without bumping straight into a block of yellow.

Charles whips around, helmet already on his head, and looks down at you.

“Bonne chance, Bien-aimée. See you on the podium.” Good luck, Beloved. His eyes crinkle, the helmet blocking the smile you’re sure is on his lips.

You smile, reaching up to knock on his helmet twice. He dips his head lightly as you do so. “Buona fortuna, predestinato.” Good luck.

Before you can walk off, Charles grabs your arm and pulls you back in front of him. His eyes are wide and soft, just as they are in your memory. He stares at you, studies your face like he’ll never see it again, fingers pressing into your flesh gently. There is a beat of silence before he exhales and lets his hand drop down to yours.

“Conduisez prudemment, conduisez intelligemment. Je veux te voir arriver au bout.” Drive safe, drive smart. I want to see you reach the end. “Okay?”

Your throat runs dry and you nod, unable to speak. Charles’s eyes crinkle again. He’s smiling. With a gloved hand, he cups your cheek briefly before finally letting you go.

You try not to let the moment of intimacy distract you as you scurry off to your car. Your head is spinning as you slip your helmet on. The crowds of engineers and mechanics begin to slowly thin out. Now it’s just you, your car, and the asphalt below you. 5… 4… 3… 2… 1.

Lights out, and away we go.

Adrenaline courses through your veins as you maneuver your car through the messy midfield. You manage to keep George and Daniel behind you, shifting gears and braking as you approach turn one. It isn’t many laps until you’re clear of any threat of the drivers behind you, and instead are focused on overtaking Lewis. The world champion challenges you, and you can feel your toes and fingers tingling at how hard you were handling your car. Every opportunity you felt you had to overtake, Lewis was quick to shut down. He maintained his distance, always just being a little too far for you to catch.

“Fleur, we need you to box in this upcoming lap.”

You groan, clicking your radio button. “My tires feel fine. Can’t we wait a couple more laps?”

“Negative. Fleur, we can see you losing traction in your tires. Your times are slipping. If you don’t box now you will risk slipping down a lot further than you’d like.”

You grit your teeth, making another turn. You can feel your front tires slipping and you concede. “Okay. I’ll box.”

You slip into the pit lane, parking right in front of your garage and waiting as your team slips on a set of new mediums on your car. You feel your car drop and soon you are flying out of the pits. You drop just behind Lando, and slowly begin working your way back to your place at the top. In your rear views, you can see the green Aston Martin closing in behind you. He attempts to overtake you, but you block him off. The adrenaline begins to pump through your body again as you battle the Aston Martin, excitement growing as you shut down every single attempt he’s made at an overtake.

But then he runs you wide, forcing you off the track and slipping ahead of you.

“He ran me off the track!” You scream into your radio. “He needs to give me my place back.”

“Talking to race control now, please hold.”

You press on the throttle, turning your DRS on, and soon you are nearly side by side with Lance. You break at the next turn, losing just a bit of distance but are quick to step on it as you gain another opportunity to overtake him. For the briefest of seconds, his front wing disappears from view and you think that maybe you’re in the clear. But then Lance tries to overtake you again and bumps into your right rear, knocking your car off the track and pushing you into a barrier.

“Fleur, are you alright?”

“Fine. Fuck, I’m fine.” You try to shift your car in reverse. You do everything you can but your car remains unresponsive. “Guys.”

“I’m sorry Fleur, we’re gonna have to retire the car.”

You groan loudly, hands flopping onto your lap in defeat. Anger bubbles up inside of you as you click your radio button. “Okay. Getting out now.”

Marshalls and other staff are quick to help you out of the car, and one takes you back on a motorcycle. You do your best to save face, waving to fans as they call out to you. But the moment you get back to your garage you are storming over to Lucas and Otmar, demanding Lance Stroll’s head on a stick. You were beyond upset, you can feel your face heating up with rage. Lucas attempts to calm you down, pulling you further into the garage and away from any cameras. The rest of that Sunday is a blur. You get through press rather quickly, and by the time you’re done the race is ending behind the safety car. Max first, Charles second, and George third.

You hang your head low as you weave through sweaty bodies, trying to catch a glimpse of Charles standing on the podium. You’re drowning in a sea of red and yellow, stuck in a crowd of people who adore Charles as much as you do. Goosebumps rise on your skin at the sounds of cheers, the love overflowing and massive for the boy in yellow as he sprays the crowd below him with champagne.

Suddenly you feel sick to your stomach as the tifosi cheer loudly around you. It was like they were mocking you. The woman didn’t take a podium away from Il Predestinato, the golden boy. You were standing in your rightful place, in the crowd as Charles stands before thousands of people who scream for him. You push your way out of the throng of people, desperately needing to breathe. You don’t look back, don’t even realize in a crowd of thousands, Charles still manages to find you.

Hot tears are in your eyes, frustrated at the day you’ve had. You were so angry at god only knows what, and you only wanted to retreat to your room, as you did every day this weekend. You wanted to wallow in self pity for the rest of your Sunday.

The sun is long gone when you finally return to the safety of your room. And you think that maybe, finally, you have a moment to yourself. But then there’s a knock on your door. It’s soft, yet persistent. You groan softly, yanking the door open to find Charles standing there with two juice boxes in his hand and takeout containers in the other.

“What are you doing here Charles?” You ask, voice quiet and filled with defeat.

“Apple juice and pasta. I figured you might need it after today.”

It must’ve been the way he looked at you, with light in his eyes. Or maybe it’s the gesture itself. You couldn’t be too sure. All you know is that your throat seemed to close on you and breathing became hard. Tears blur your vision as you step back.

“Why are you doing this Charles?” You whimper.

His brows are furrowed as he steps into the room, setting the food down on the table. “What do you mean?”

“You’re saying all these things, doing all these old traditions, and I… why?”

“Why not?”

“Charles,” You choke, “I told you I needed time, and that I wasn’t ready.”

“I know. But… we’re still friends aren’t we?”

You shake your head, “But friends don’t just say the things you did on the track today. Friends don’t hold each other, touch each other, they way you do me. Friends don’t look at each other the way you look at me. Like I’m some anomaly, like I hold the universe in my hands.”

The boy stays quiet, eyes cast downwards towards his feet. The air in the room is uneasy, thick. Neither of you say a word, you just stand there before the other unsure of where the conversation might take you. It felt like the end, even if that came four months prior.

“Do you want me to leave?” Charles finally asks, voice barely above a whisper and suddenly filled with sadness.

You wipe your eyes, moving deeper into the room. The room is still again, both of you frozen in your spot. You wipe your face with your hands before looking up.

“No. I… I don’t know.” You answer honestly.

Charles nods, taking several steps towards you. He watches you put your head in your hands again, soft whimpers echoing in his ears as you cry softly. Neither of you really understand where the burst of emotion is coming from, why old traditions were sending you down a spiral. Why a thing of comfort in the past, now seems to be hurting you.

“I’m not trying to force anything on you,” Charles mumbles, “I just… God Fleur I miss you all the fucking time and I just figured that maybe we could try to find a sense of normalcy even as friends. We used to have juice boxes before quali long before we dated. We repeat our fathers’ words to each other all the time.”

You rub your eyes before you look up at him. There are no words that come to mind, nothing that you could possibly say to him. So he continues.

“And I look at you the way I do because that’s all I’ve ever known Fleur. Maybe you didn’t notice until later in life, but I’ve always looked at you with such fondness. I’ve been in love with you for as long as I can remember. I look at you like you hold the universe in your hands because you do. You’ve always held the world in your hands, at least you held mine.”

Your eyes fall shut and you inhale deeply as you take in every single word he said to you. Your exhale is shaky, a shiver moving up your spine.

“Loving you is all I’ve ever known Fleur. And I’m trying to give you the time and the space that you want. But you have to understand that it isn’t something I’m familiar with.”

Charles’s eyes brows are furrowed, forehead wrinkled with emotion. You can see the gloss of tears over his eyes, the way the edge of his nose is already beginning to turn red. He takes a cautious step towards you.

“I don’t want to hurt you. If you want me to stop showing up, to stop the juice boxes and the knocks on the helmet, then just say it. If you want me to never look at you again then I’ll do it. Tell me what you want me to do Fleur, and I will do it. As long as it makes you happy.”

A sob escapes you as you launch yourself into his arms, lips smashing against his. It’s the only thing that feels right at that moment, even if it means blurring and essentially erasing any line or boundary you’ve created in four months. Your emotions drive you as you hold Charles close to you, closer than he’s been in months. You allow your heart to call the shots, giving into the way it speeds up when you’re near him. Charles’s lips mold onto yours quickly, a hand finding its place just below your jaw as he holds your face. Hope is ignited in his heart as he pours everything into that kiss. He savors the feeling of your lips against his own, they way you clutch onto him and hold him against you.

You’re the first to pull away, eyes still shut as you allow yourself to fall forward into Charles, forehead pressed into his chest. It takes him a second, but soon he is wrapping his arms around you and kissing the top of your head. You convince yourself that this is okay, that you needed this. That all this is okay, no matter how unfair it is to the both of you.

“Est-ce que ça va?” Charles mumbles against your hair.

“Oui.” You whisper, looking up at him with your chin against his chest.

He smiles, fingers pushing your hair from your face and swiping the tears that have fallen on your skin. He is tender and sweet, just as he always is. It feels so wrong to allow him to hold you like this, to look at you like he always does. And yet you were finding it hard to muster the courage to tell him to let you go.

“Nothing has changed, I still need time.” You whisper.

“Okay,” Charles responds, cupping your face again.

“And… and I think that we have to stop the traditions for now.” You see the emotion drop from his face. His eyes that were filled with hope, now sullen and defeated. “I need space, Charles. I’m just starting to find myself, just starting to figure myself out.”

You reach up to cup his face, the boy leaning into your touch. His eyes fall shut, tears escaping onto his freckled skin. Your thumb swipes them away.

“We can’t keep doing this. We can’t keep breaking each other’s hearts like this.”

“Je sais,” Charles’s voice is shaky, rough, just barely above a whisper, “Je n'arrive pas à te laisser partir.” I know. I just can't seem to let you go.

Your hand moves up to run through his brown locks, before dropping down to his chest. “You have to try.” He shakes his head and you sigh softly, leaning in to press a soft kiss between his collarbones. “Please try, for me.”

Charles inhales deeply, choking on his cries. “Why do I feel like it’s the end for us Fleur?”

You don’t answer, because deep down you don’t know if you have one. In your time without him, you’ve slowly come to love yourself more. Your new found independence is addicting, and you wanted to continue to see more of it. Life is bright and worth enjoying without Charles. People were beginning to see the real Fleur, and not just the woman that the golden boy fell in love with. You were being recognized for your own talents, your own merit, and nothing has ever felt sweeter. You don't know if or when you’ll be able to give it up.

But when you look into his eyes, you still see your future. You can still see the kids running on the paddock, taking them to school. You can see the house with a big backyard, the family barbecues and all those late summer nights. You see your hair turning gray and moving out of the city when your kids have gone off to live their own lives. No matter what point in time, in all those dreams, Charles is always right by your side. You still see the fantasy future you’ve built with him when everything was still perfect. A part of you still believes in forever with Charles.

“C'est fini, Fleur?” Charles asks again, hands still holding onto you. Is it over?

There is a look of heartbreak on his face, just pure sadness. His eyes are dull, lifeless as he awaits your answer.

“I… I don’t know.”

Charles nods. He leans in, nose brushing against your own. There is a moment where Charles looks into your eyes, searching for a reason not to kiss you, but then he shuts them and presses his lips onto yours in a sweet kiss anyways. It’s short, but filled with whatever is left in his heart. He releases you as he pulls back, the back of his hand wiping away the wet on his cheeks.

“Time. You need time.” He repeats. “I won’t bother you anymore. No more rituals or knocks. When you’re ready, you know where to find me.”

You wanted to say that you love him, but the look of heartbreak on his face stops you. There aren’t any words that come to mind as he walks away from you and towards the door of your hotel room. His steps are slow, his feet dragging against the carpeted floor. He pauses for a moment, hand midair as he reaches for the door knob. Slowly, he turns around and looks at you. He almost says something, his lips are parted, breathing shallow. But he shakes his head and leaves.

The door clicks shut, and you release a breath you didn’t even know you were holding in. You fall back onto your bed, a weight suddenly lifted off your chest. Breathing has never felt easier in the last four days than it did in that very moment. Finally, you were alone.

Left alone to soak in the fact that you’ve broken Charles’s heart once more. You are left to realize how selfish you’ve truly been this past weekend, using Charles and taking advantage of the fact that deep down you know how much he still loves you. That you’ve made decisions, let him hold and kiss you in complete disregard of his own aching heart. You allowed the lines you were so dead set on drawing to be crossed for your own benefit.

You sit in your empty hotel room left with guilt and blurred lines of your own doing.

❃゜・。. ・°゜✼ ゜°・ . 。・゜❃

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blame-canada · 7 years ago

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At The Start - Creek

Craig and Tweek are young, in love, and not at all prepared for the rest of their lives. The first Walmart trip that inevitably comes on move-in day is only the start.

This was a fic that was originally (somewhat) requested by my dear friend @creekfucker, to whom I apologize for taking so long to finish this! I hope you still like it, months later. The working title for this fic was ‘hi im tweek tweak and he's craig tucker and welcome to jackass’- just a fun fact. Enjoy!

“Okay, you got the list?” Tweek bit at his thumb, pausing a moment to let the automatic doors sense his weight and part for him to enter.

Craig didn’t look away from his phone, but he tilted it up to gesture with it. “Got the list.” He clicked out of the random email he was clearing from his inbox and switched over to the note he and Tweek had carefully written out a few hours before. A rush of air conditioning assaulted his face, and when he looked up he caught an eyeful of fluorescent, painfully unnatural lights.

They’d forgotten more than a couple essentials before they moved into their new apartment.

In their defense, neither of them had done it before. The closest Craig had ever gotten was a dorm room in college, and Tweek had only ever commuted to school. ‘New’ was a very nice way to put it too- it was, in all honesty, a sad excuse for a home, but their budget was low enough that they couldn’t quite afford to be picky. At least this one didn’t have water stains all over the ceiling or a busted up window, and Tweek didn’t feel like the protagonist of a horror movie when he walked through the neighborhood to test the waters.

Who even thought of a shower curtain when they moved out? Nobody, Craig was convinced.

He scrolled through the list quickly, scanning for which sections of the store they had to visit (most of them) before he clicked his phone off and smiled, shaking his head to himself. “It’s a shame,” he said, an open invitation, and Tweek took the bait, looking over his shoulder at him while he dislodged a shopping cart from the messy chain shoved up against the wall.

“Uh, w-what is?”

Craig’s smirk grew even wider, and he said, “That you thought this was going to be a productive shopping trip.”

With that, he hip-checked Tweek away from the cart, hijacked control of the rickety contraption, and surged forward with his hands firmly planted at the ends of the handlebar. Tweek made a strangled noise of distress but Craig had already started to pick up speed, letting his strides match the growing momentum of the cart as it barreled forward into the throes of the store.

“Craig you god dam—Craig, w-what the fu—what are you doing?” Tweek asked, stumbling around swear words so clumsily he may as well have shouted them anyway. He had to hop a little faster than Craig to keep up, and his face was turning cherry red from a combination of nerves, embarrassment, and sudden physical strain.

Craig tried his hardest to keep his straightest face when he replied, “Shopping.”

“You-! You asshole,” Tweek hissed, reaching to grab him by the arm and hook himself onto it, dragging alongside him to get the cart to slow down. “Quit it!”

“Okay,” Craig said with a shrug, and he dramatically lifted both hands from the cart to let it fly forward unmanned. Tweek gasped and jumped ahead to grab it before it careened right into a kiosk full of cheap jewelry nobody ever bought.

Tweek paused, his back to Craig, and for one fleeting moment Craig felt rather certain he was going to die. Tweek looked over his shoulder, and scathed, “Behave.”

“Nah,” Craig replied, and he pointed northwest. “The shower curtains are probably down here.” Tweek grumbled irritated nonsense to himself, but Craig saw the smile he was desperately trying to hide. That meant he wasn’t completely in the dog house yet, which boded well.

Walking through the store with Tweek had a strange feeling attached to it that he couldn’t quite define. They’d gone on trips before, of course, to grab snacks or run an errand for their parents here and there, but it felt different with a brand new key resting in his right pocket. It was a key to a place where Tweek would be beside him every day, and the thought made him so anxious and so excited that the only way that made sense to release that energy at the time was to annoy the fuck out of his boyfriend at Walmart.

“Clear or white?” Tweek asked, effectively slamming the brakes on his daydreaming, and he looked over to see him holding up two nearly identical packages.

“I mean, I don’t mind a show, but if we ever have guests I dunno how they’ll feel about the clear.” Tweek turned red and Craig internally pat himself on the back while he shrugged. Nice.

“This is the liner, Craig, not the actual curtain. No one’s gonna see this part!”

“Oh,” he said. “Who cares, then..?”

Tweek rolled his eyes and tossed the clear one into their cart, replacing the other on its hook. “You’re killing me,” he moaned, stomping his feet a little in a tantrum.

“You love it,” Craig replied, and when Tweek huffed, he accepted it as a victory.

“Can we do food next?” Tweek asked, and when he shrugged in agreement, he smiled and took hold of the end of the cart, steering it toward the food aisles. Sometimes, watching Tweek do nothing at all made Craig feel a certain kind of weird. It was the kind of feeling that made him smile involuntarily, and his hand itch with the desire to take his. He guessed it was love, probably, but like, a lot more of it all at once. It was kind of great. Watching Tweek pull the cart, his back to him, his hair swirled more erratically than most days, Craig felt an awful lot of that feeling. Maybe one day, after living together for a little while, he’d feel more comfortable talking about and expressing it. For now, though, it came out in bouts of ruthless teasing.

“Hey Craig,” Tweek snorted, giggling quietly, “Craig, h-hey—”

“What?”

“Do you think I’d fit in this?” His finger trembled from contained laughter as it pointed to the bottom shelf of a display of what appeared to be dog beds.

“Hmm”—he clicked his tongue—“not without difficulty. You’ll have to take into account the height of the shelf.”

Tweek raised his fist to his mouth, rubbing his knuckles under his nose while he thought. “Yeah, but also the bed will get smaller when I lay on it, assuming it’s as fluffy as it looks. Bet you two thingies of ice cream I can make it work.”

Craig raised his brows, the wager proving steep, but he was feeling confident that it would at least be endlessly amusing to watch him try to shove himself into a shelf. “Deal.”

Tweek rubbed his hands together and paused to let out a few more cackles. Craig looked around quickly, suddenly very aware of where they were because it was different when he was misbehaving. “Come on, go,” he urged, and Tweek rolled his eyes.

“Don’t be so nervous, I’ve seen worse. Actually, remember that video where those guys made like, a-a whole apartment in the toilet paper aisle or something? Man, I’ve always wanted to do that—”

Craig raised his hand, cutting him off. “While your enthusiasm is admirable, we do still have shit to do at the apartment. We resolve the bet, and then we get groceries.”

Tweek whined at him and scowled. “You got to be a little shit earlier,” he grumbled, and he got on his knees to crawl into the shelf. He pressed down on the bed, testing its resistance, and when it gave way easily and created a lot more space between the bed and the next shelf, he looked back at Craig with his eyebrows raised and a shit-eating grin. “I’m making you buy flavors you don’t like,” he said, snickering, and Craig crossed his arms.

“Just do it, Jesus Christ,” he muttered, now nervous about his chances of winning, and Tweek shrugged his shoulders and got into a crawling position.

“Should I like, match the shape and then try to slide in? Tetris it? I think that might work.”

“We’re in a bet. I’m not helping.”

“What if I get s-stuck!”

“Then you lose the bet and I leave here with two extra thingies of ice cream.” Tweek made an ugly snarling sound of irritation, and Craig did his best to contain laughter, though his shoulders still shook a few times. Tweek aligned himself with the bed, put both his left limbs out, and started pushing himself inside.

“I’m gonna do it. Dude, this is the easiest bet I’ve ever won,” Tweek said, and he wiggled around on his stomach to get himself deeper into the shelf and onto the dog bed. His head disappeared, then his shoulder, then his arm, and it wasn’t until he was completely hidden from view that he said, “Yes!” and cheered through the muffling caused by the fluff.

Craig took a moment to stare, note how well Tweek was hiding in the fluffy dog bed abyss, and check their list before he cleared his throat and announced, just loud enough for Tweek’s compromised ears to hear, “Goodbye, Tweek.”

He heard a distorted voice shriek, “What?!” The dog beds started to move and Craig ran around the end of the cart to grab the handle and dash away, looking over his shoulder and watching Tweek’s limbs thrash out from the shelf like some sort of eldritch horror beast. Craig stopped at the end of the aisle just so he could watch him struggle, no longer attempting to hold in his laughter, and Tweek’s flailing limbs slowly eased out of the shelf. He could only guess what sort of expletives he was spewing as he fought to escape from his own prison. As soon as his head was free, he yelled, “Craig!” and Craig ducked around the corner of the aisle, a rush of silly fear striking his chest like a cheap thrill. When he straightened his cart a mom with a drooling baby in the front basket glared at him, and he gave his best mild-mannered smile. Then his boyfriend whipped around the corner.

He was breathing unusually heavily, his hair staticky and reaching impressively well for the ceiling, and his clothes wildly askew. “What the fuck, Craig,” he said, and when the mother shot him an even nastier glare, he rolled his eyes, and said, “Calm down, it’s too young to understand human speech anyway.” She let out a disturbed gasp and hurried away from the aisle, clearly angry. Craig felt very in love with him after that. As soon as she was far enough away and the aisle was empty, Tweek punched Craig’s arm. “You left me there to fend for myself. I coulda been stuck!”

“Yeah, but you weren’t.” Craig bit back the grin he was desperately trying to contain, but it wasn’t working, and he finally just let himself chuckle as he brushed Tweek’s hair down and straightened his shirt.

Tweek swatted at his invasive arms. “You don’t have to groom me, Jesus Christ,” but he smiled anyway, and he didn’t object when Craig slipped a hand down to clasp his at their sides.

“What flavors do you want? I’m a man of my word,” Craig said, and Tweek thought about it, scratching at his chin while he held some thrilling debate in his mind.

“Wanna just get the usual?” he suggested, his smile earnest.

“Didn’t you want to get flavors I don’t like?”

“You like pretty much anything,” Tweek admitted, “a-and I’m feeling particularly generous.”

“Well then.” Craig released his hold on the shopping cart and Tweek’s hand to clap his hands together, and said, “One Cherry Garcia and one Coffee Toffee Bar Crunch it is.”

With the promise of ice cream to load into their new and empty freezer, they rolled to the grocery section of the store with enthusiasm and excitement buzzing on their nerves, because they were finally moving in together, and life was good. After a few more chases down aisles and giggle fits to earn the glares of several old people, they paid an unfortunately steep price at the register, and Craig’s stomach did flips while he thought about the simple but beautiful fact that he was driving home. Their hands met above the center console of his car. Craig twisted the steering wheel left, comforted that in time such a motion would become wonderfully second-nature.

Craig took pictures of Tweek turning the apartment key, and they ate pints of ice cream on their bare kitchen floor.

#i hope u like it <3 <3 #south park #south park fanfiction #craig tucker #tweek tweak #creek #creek sp #sp creek #sp fanfiction #south park fanfic #sp fanfic #my fanfic #fanfiction #my fanfiction #aged up au #domestic au

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kylo-glenn · 8 years ago

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Enough (Kylo Ren x Reader)

Summary: You, a Resistance spy, fell madly in love with Kylo Ren. Upon finding out you’re pregnant, Kylo must tell Snoke about the baby. But Snoke has some unexpected news for Kylo.

Request: @my-fucking-world-13(???disappeared??): (oneshot) if you infiltrate the first order and get involved with kylo, you end up falling in love and getting pregnant, when kylo discovers he promises to stay with the child and kill you. But when he enters the room and sees you talking to his belly he gives up and runs away with you

Warnings: Pregnancy

Word Count: many

A/N: So…im not good at writing Kylo outside of “the bedroom” i suppose. But I don’t only want to write Kylo smut. So please excuse Kylo being OOC, i’m working on writing his characterization. Also sorry this is incredibly late.

You were a spy for the Resistance. You hated the First Order, hated what they stood for. But you were a good actress, smart and cunning. You were quick in all the right ways. And so you were given the task of infiltrating the Order.

You started out small. Recruited as a petty officer. But you weren’t just an officer for long. Something went wrong. Or something went right, you supposed.

You’d barely been on the Finalizer for 48 hours before Kylo Ren noticed you. You thought it was just because you were new. And then you thought it was because he knew that you were a spy.

But that wasn’t it.

For weeks all he’d do was hover around you. It wasn’t until a month and a half later that he said a word to you. “Good work, officer.” He had said.

And everything took off from there. You were promoted. You were around Kylo so much more often. Which wasn’t a bad thing, you had said to yourself. You had access to much more information, and Leia was pleased that she had tabs on her son.

But it became more than that. Kylo’s feelings for you grew, as did yours for him. You tried to tell yourself that it was just for the sake of information. How could you love someone so evil? You couldn’t, you tried to convince yourself.

But you had fallen for him. You loved him and his quirky, yet charming looks. His strength. You loved his passion, his intensity. He was always kind to you. Well, as kind as he could be. Which in all honesty wasn’t the traditional kindness. But he tried, you knew he did.

You loved every layer of him.

And you would love your child just as much.

You were pregnant. You had wondered how you had let this happen. Kylo wondered how he had let this happen. But then neither of you cared. You two loved each other, as hard as it was, and you were going to have this child and raise it.

But there was something nagging in the back of your mind. That you’d have to tell Kylo why you were even with the Order. You should have told him so much earlier in the relationship. But you didn’t want to.

You were afraid of what would happen. He would be angry. Furious. He’d leave you. He’d kill you.

And now so much more was at stake.

But you continued to push that aside. Especially when the day came to tell Snoke. You and Kylo had tried to put it off, but when it came to the Supreme Leader, you simply couldn’t.

Kylo told you to stay behind, in your shared quarters. He was worried, you could tell. Neither of you would know what to do if Snoke disapproved of your pregnancy.

The two of you parted ways with a kiss. A quick one, an anxious one. You watched as he covered his worry-ridden face with his helmet, right before he turned to leave.

No words were exchanged as he walked out the door to your shared quarters. No words needed to be exchanged. The two of you already knew you loved one another. And the both of you had stressed about telling Snoke since you found out about the baby. He knew you wished him luck.

Your hand wandered to your belly once the door slid shut. You stared at the door for a few more moments before your head dropped, looking to gaze at your stomach. “It’s just you and me for a little bit, baby. You want some tea? Because I sure do.” You needed something to relax yourself.

Meanwhile, Kylo marched down the halls of the Finalizer, each step he took he grew more and more nervous. Of course, no one would be able to tell. He stomped past officers, fists clenched, seemingly his usually intimidating stance.

What they didn’t know was how uneasy he was feeling.

There was a designated room for these meetings, deep within the Finalizer where no personnel other than himself and General Hux were allowed.

This time, it was only Kylo and Snoke.

It wasn’t long before Snoke’s figure was projected, larger than life in front of him. This had been pre-arranged. Sort of. Kylo knew when Snoke wanted to see him.

Kylo bowed his head ever so slightly, submissively. “Supreme Leader,” Kylo’s distorted voice greeted the alien.

“Your woman,” the Supreme Leader began, Kylo already hearing the anger in his voice, seeing it on his face when he lifted his head. Did Snoke already know? “Y/N, is a traitor.”

Kylo’s eyebrows furrowed behind his metal mask, confusion clouding his mind.

Snoke elaborated before Kylo had a chance to question him, “She’s a Resistance spy.” The words were spat.

That confusion that clouded Kylo’s mind quickly turned to anger. What? How could this be? All this time? “How do you know this?” The way he asked was less than polite, bordering on the edge of being too snappy for Snoke.

“I have spies of my own, Ren, and you-” Snoke’s hands gripped at the armrest of his ‘throne’. “-couldn’t see it. You let your guards down, let her gain your trust, and she infiltrated. She’s been feeding information to General Organa this entire time.”

Kylo’s fists clenched and unclenched. He was unsure of what to do with all of this anger in front of Snoke. His fury radiated off of him. He was seeing red. “She’s pregnant,” he spat, feeling horribly betrayed. Feeling horribly stupid.

Feeling horribly heartbroken.

Snoke was quiet for a moment, but rage didn’t radiate off him as it did Kylo. “Retrieve her. Hold her captive until the baby is born. And once she no longer has any use, you will kill her.”

There was a chance that baby would be Force-sensitive. A child of Kylo Ren could be powerful. And Snoke wanted to harness that power. He wanted that baby.

“If the child is Force-sensitive, you will train it.” Snoke didn’t mention what would become of the baby if it wasn’t.

“Of course, Supreme Leader.” Ren spoke through teeth clenched so hard that he felt if he added any more pressure, they’d break.

“Go.” All it took was that one word and Kylo Ren was stomping his way out of the room.

It was almost as if his steps shook the ground. Moved the entire Star Destroyer.

So many times Kylo was close to killing an officer, destroying something along the way. For no other reason that he needed to get his anger out somehow. But he didn’t.

And he made it to your quarters, ready to rip you in half.

But then he saw you.

Reclined in a dark leather chair, tea on the table next to you, one hand lazily tracing patterns onto your growing stomach. You were mumbling something to the baby, seeming to be lulling yourself to sleep.

He paused long enough to hear what you were saying. “It’ll be okay, little one. Daddy will make sure of it.” And you seemed to repeat that, quieter and quieter.

And Kylo’s heart melted. His face would have reflected how much this was tearing him apart if it weren’t for his damned helmet.

He was so terribly in love with you. Sometimes he couldn’t tell if it made him weaker or stronger. A debate he’d had throughout the entire relationship.

And he loved the child inside of you. The child the two of you created. On accident, of course. But he could feel the little life of the baby inside of you, through the Force. Pulsing. Especially in that moment. And his heart ached.

Kylo wasn’t sure how he’d ever be a good father. An adequate one. But that didn’t stop him from loving the little creature.

And nothing could destroy the deep attachment the two of you had. The love he had for you.

Something snapped in Kylo Ren in that moment.

His steps were filled with purpose as he crossed the living room to you, one gloved hand reaching for the one on your belly, startling you out of your sleepy state. “Kylo?” You questioned as he pulled you from your seat.

“Come,” was all he said as he tried to lead your barely awake body out of the room.

“What’s going on?” You questioned, not resisting his movements, but you were hesitant.

“I know about you. And the Resistance.” Your eyes widened. “Snoke wants to hold you captive until the baby is born and then kill you. He wants me to kill you.”

Your chest felt tight and you already felt tears welling up. You knew you should have told him. “Kylo, I–things–they–”

“I know.” He knew what you were trying to say. How things had changed, how you loved him. He knew. “We’re leaving.”

“Leaving? The Finalizer?”

“The First Order. Snoke. All of it.” Kylo decided then that you were moving too slow for him, your much smaller legs not being able to make the same strides. So he turned and scooped you up in a motion, quickly continuing on.

You were in shock. What was going on? Where were you going? Was this good? Was this bad? It was your turn to be confused as Kylo carried you through the cold halls of the Imperial ship, all the way to the hangar.

As his ship came in sight, you told him you could walk. He set you down, but grabbed your hand and didn’t let go.

The Command Shuttle’s ramp lowered at an unnatural speed. The Force. Kylo’s doing.

He ushered you up the ramp, but you didn’t need it. You eagerly continued on into the ship, ready to leave the dreaded First Order with the love of your life, the father of your child.

But Kylo paused.

He stood for a moment before his gloved hands rose to his helmet, pressing on the buttons on the sides. His helmet hissed as it released and he pulled it off his hand. He shook his hair out.

His eyes glared down at the damaged hunk of metal. And as he glared, the Force closed in on it. Adding more and more pressure until–

It shared. Into hundreds and thousands of tiny, unrecognizable pieces. He let his hands fall to his sides, little bits of shattered metal falling from them.

And he continued on, the broken helmet crunching underneath his boots as he continued on up the ramp.

He quickly settled into the pilot’s seat next to you. He wordlessly started the ship up as you gazed at his face. A mash of conflicting features. Unconventionally, but completely handsome. Beautiful. “I love you.”

Your words made him pause. He turned to you, his eyes soft. “I love you too.”

Neither of you knew where you’d go after this. You weren’t sure if you’d return to the Resistance, where Kylo would have to face his mother or settle elsewhere.

But either way, you had each other. And you had the beautiful baby growing inside of you that you both loved. That brought the both of you closer together. Even as neither of you was wholly sure what the future held.

That was enough

#kylo ren x reader #kylo ren one shot #kylo ren fanfiction #kylo ren imagine #one shots #one shot #writing #mine

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penguinsocksworks · 7 years ago

Text

See You At Home (1/?)

Read on AO3

Read on Tumblr: Chapter 1

Summary:Keith is just one of those normal teenagers living a double life, trying to balance being a superhero named Red and a boring college kid. Keith also has two major annoyances in his life: his roommate Lance, and his teammate blue. He swears to god, it's almost like they're the same person!

Keith and Lance are roommates who don't know that the other is also part of earth's very own evil fighting squad; Voltron. Shiro and Allura shake their heads a lot, Hunk offers supportive smiles, Pidge laughs their ass off and Coran doesn't get what the big deal is.

SO I HAVE NO IDEA WHERE IM GOING WITH THIS BUT YOLO AMIRITE? No but seriously, Nessa, Happy birthday and I seriously hope this is what you were looking for.

To all the readers that are reading this: I'm fairly new to this fandom and I haven't been apart for that long. That being said I tried to keep this as in character as I could but... idk. I attempt to be funny too, so warning for bad humor. This was originally just supposed to be a private one shot for my friend Nessa's birthday but it turned into something a little more when I started to think about it more. And so I wanted to share it will the community! I'm not sure when updates will come, but I'm looking forward to working on this. Im scared to call this a miraculous lady bug AU cause it really has nothing to do with that show but it has superhero concepts from the show so like... its not completely but the concepts are owned by them. So I hope you all enjoy!

Nessa requested that this fic contain: HeLL ToNS OF FlUfF, Keith interacting with kids, enough angst to make you need tissues for a year, cute oblivious boys, smartass Pidge, and like five other things. So lets see if I can make it work. Lets play the 'lets guess how many chapters long this fic will be' game.

If you wanna hmu for anything here on tumblr you can! Im currently taking prompts to distract me in between writing this when i need a break.

SO AFTER THAT WHOLE SPIEL ENJOY MY SHITTY WRITING!

Keith will kick his ass one of these days. Seriously, say he won't cause he'd absolutely attack his teammate right in the middle of this fight. He could've gotten the both of them killed!

“Red,” a hand landed itself on his heaving shoulder, “You okay?”

Keith turned to snap at the voice, ready to release his anger all over the black paladin that dared ask him if he was okay. But he didn't. He stopped halfway, because yelling at Black wouldn't do anything but get him in trouble, whether it be in general or having to face Pinks scolding later on about being nice to your fellow paladins.

All these code names were confusing as hell to Keith, but he supposed that they had to keep their identities hidden for their “loved ones” safety. Or so said Pink, aka his brothers girlfriend, ahem sorry fiancé as of last Friday, Allura. She was deemed the leader of Voltron when Coran had come to earth, crashing through the ceiling of Shiro and Alluras nice apartment, and told her that she was the long lost princess of Altea.

In the middle of taco night too.

It started off like any normal night. Keith had to attend mandatory family dinner nights at least once a month or he'd get yelled at by both Allura and Shiro. Keith didn't quite get it, since it was only the three of them that attended these dinners and he often wondered why Shiro never insisted that Lance, Hunk, and Pidge tag along as well.

Shiro probably just wanted a break from all the kids at once. And! He'd get to harass his little adopted brother as much as he pleased in this setting without having to worry about embarrassing him too much. Shiro was thoughtful like that. Call him a saint if you will.

“So,” Shiro had been sprinkling more cheese onto the meat of his Taco Bell taco, “What was Lance up to tonight?”

Normally Keith would just shrug, he would never be able to predict exactly what his roommate would spontaneously plan when he was out, but this time he had received a definite answer to his “so Lance, I'm heading over to Shiro’s tonight, what are you going to do?”

he usually just received a joking “I dunno, just go already. Your presence is making me sick.”

But Yes, Keith actually had an answer for Shiro's inevitable question this time around, “Movie night with Pidge and Hunk.”

Keith would rather be watching a movie with them than be interrogated and made fun of all night by Allura and Shiro, but it was the last day of the month and they hadn't gotten their dinner in. Allura hummed, “So how is school? Getting good grades I presume?”

“Y’know, for someone who claims to not be good with kids,” Keith shot Allura a glare, “You've been upping the mom talk lately. Is there a time constraint on this wedding that I should know about?”

“Haha Keith,” Allura rolled her eyes, “No there isn't. Can I not be concerned for the person I've known for practically all of his life?”

Keith scowled, “I met you when I was five. And you hated me back then.”

“That's because all the foster ladies thought that you were the cutest thing since puppies and gave you extra cookies,” Allura waved her fork. She always used a fork, claiming it was just unnatural to eat tacos with your hands, “Surely you can't blame me for that. I even braided your hair!”

“You are like the big sister I never asked for,” Keith mumbled into his food. His eyes only narrowed further when Allura got that weird gleam in her eyes.

“I'm going to be your actual sister soon,” Allura grasped at Shiro’s hand, “Isn't that right sweetie?”

“That's right pumpkin!” Shiro just cooed back with a sickly sweet look.

They only did this when they wanted to torture Keith. And boy did it work, “You two are the reason I don't believe in love.”

“Shouldn't that be the other way around?” Allura just smiled, head resting on her palm now.

Keith scoffed, “No couple could ever be ask cutesy as you guys. I'm calling BS on all this. It's all fake.”

He didn't like the weight of Shiro's hand on his shoulder, it was the tell tale sign of a serious dad talk, “Keith. You will find someone some day that will make you act like this.”

“Oh god I hope not,” Keith crinkled his nose, “If I ever look this dumb just… shoot me.”

“Who knows Keith,” Allura had a sing song quality to her voice that he didn't like, “Maybe you've already met that special someone. Maybe you already act this stupid with someone.”

“What are you imply-”

And that's when Coran promptly crashed through the ceiling, luckily not causing any major injuries.

Coran had been ecstatic that Allura had managed to find at least two of the paladins. Meaning him and Shiro. It had something to do with the earring and dog tag they had gotten over the years. Keith still played with the single stud in his earlobe when he was nervous. It had become a habit. But after everything that's happened recently, he almost felt like tossing it into a river and never looking back.

“Princess Allura! It is I, Coran, your faithful caretaker all the way from Altea,” Coran bowed in front of Allura, “I have dreadful news of our home planet. But that is not important right now.”

“Who… How on earth do you know my name!” Allura backed away a bit, “I demand you tell me now!”

“I've known you since you were a baby, Princess,” Coran wiped a tear, “I was just as sad as the rest of the royal family when we had to send you here.”

“Send me here?” Shiro looked at Alluras dumbfounded countenance and contemplated getting a pan to hit the guy with.

“For your protection, of course. Ah, Allura my girl! I'm so proud of you!” Coran put his hands on his hips. Keith just couldn't look away from his voluptuous mustache, “You managed to find two Paladins already!”

“Paladins?” Allura squeaked out, looking as shocked as Keith felt.

Coran just tilted his head and grinned, “Yes! And just in time too, Zarkon and a fleet of soldiers should be coming any minute to retrieve Voltron.”

“Voltron…?” Keith felt as if he had heard that name from somewhere before. Had Pidge mentioned it?

All three of them were shocked, Coran just blinked curiously and explained for the unpteenth time that evil forces were on their way and they needed to find the other paladins. Of course none of them moved.

Except for Alluras hand, sliding over to call for 911.

To be fair, it's not everyday that someone comes crashing into an apartment ceiling, claiming that your flimsy little accessories could turn you into a badass crime fighter. Or that you were the long lost princess of a dead civilization. It was crazy and insane, but as Coran showed them how to summon their weapons and costumes from their respective jewelry pieces, it started to become a whole lot more real.

Either that or someone slipped something into their tacos. Which was possible. Keith had seen the cashier hopped up on something more than once around campus. He was more disappointed about his crushed dinner than concerned about the whole forming Voltron thing.

He had priorities bitch.

When Keith yelled out an embarrassingly cliche phrase to release his outfit, “Red Paladin! Defender of Voltron!” There was a flashing light and he was blinded for a moment. He looked sheepishly down at his armor, admiring the solid almost lightly matted red coloring. the sword was an unusual weight in his palm, he was used to a lighter fencing sword, but the cool metal that seeped through his covered fingers felt powerful.

The helmets on their heads covered their hair and the tinted visors made it hard to make out any sort of eyes. The outfit made it out so that the only feature of theirs that could be really recognizable on their faces were their mouths.

After that initial transformation, Allura with her pink suit on, felt her necklace chime out. The sweet bells that were released when she first summoned her outfit was replaced by harsh screeching. Coran made an inhumanly high girlish squeal and led them all aboard the ship that he had used to destroy their tacos. Dinner was completely forgotten. Keith had a bad feeling about going onto a strange ship. Shiro always said not to go into strange vehicles. But then again, Shiro was also heading into this strange vehicle so...

Aboard the ship, the three of them were led to a command center of some sort, five chairs surrounding one pedestal. Shiro and Keith sat in what could have been their designated chairs, the ones glowing black and red.

“Princess,” Coran twirled the ends on his mustache, “please place your necklace in the hole!”

There was a heart shaped divot in the plain looking circuit board in front of her. She diligently removed her necklace that she had possessed since she first showed up on the foster cares doorstep and placed it in the hole, probably thinking this was still some strange dream.

The castle ship thing took off and landed somewhere in the middle of their city. Keith could feel himself pale at the sight of it, a beast robot of some sort preparing to take down building after building.

“Shiro…” he looked towards his adoptive brother, “Shiro what's happening.”

The older male just shrugged, awe struck at the sight.

“Chop chop! Let's go you two, your so called earth isn't going to defend itself!”

Coran shouted out, almost gleefully.

Shiro stood, “What? You can't be serious. We don't even know how to fight properly.”

Keith knew that Shiro did. Even just a little bit. He’s in the army, or he was at least. Deployed for only a year and a half and one missing arm to prove his time. He was a fighter, and if it wasn't for Allura, himself, and that therapists disapproval, Keith was sure that Shiro would go and sign himself up again.

“Oh don't be ridiculous! You'll be fine!” Coran started to push on their backs, “Though the ticks are ticking away!”

“Coran!” Allura lurched forward in her chair, closer to a hologram screen that popped up, “What is that?”

On the screen appeared three other figures, looking about as panicked as they all felt. But they had on outfits so similar to Keith and Shiro's that they stood out from the normal civilians, who were panicking and running away.

Coran let out a giddy noise, “Those are the other Paladins! How delightful, they're all in the same area. Good work Princess! We won't have to do any relocating!”

Keith and Shiro looked at eachother, then back at the screen. The yellow one looked like he pulled out a gun of some sort. Shocked himself by doing it too.

“Go on! Don't let all your fellow teammates do the hard work.” Coran ebbed them out of the ship.

By some movie magic bullshit they won without truly knowing what to do. Going into the details of their first uncoordinated and messy battle wouldn't be worth the effort. Just know it was bad and quite stereotypical for a first battle with a new team. The monster that these evil Galra things that Coran mentioned was one of those level one types. So it wasn't like they were smart and sent a boss to strike while the iron was hot, as Shiro put it. Which was good for them. Bad for the Galra. They all followed Shiro and Alluras careful commands to shoot here or stab there or watch out for that falling car Blue or holy shit seriously just watch out.

It was grueling. And by the end of it, Coran released some other magic bull shit, like fucking fairy dust sparkles, and the half destroyed city looked as if it had never been touched. As if a giant space alien thing hadn't just almost blown it to smithereens. As if Keith, Shiro, Allura, and these three other mystery people hadn't almost been killed.

What a day. Definitely one for the journal. And yes, it was a journal not a diary, no matter what Keith's annoying ass roommate said. Journals help keep track of events and important things while diarys were just something girls wrote in hoping they'd get taken so they could live their dreams of being in a cheesy Disney movie.

There was a difference.

“Good work team!” Shiro tried to smile as they all boarded the ship. The new guys marveled.

“Woah!” The green one’s eyes sparkled at the high tech looking castle interior, “What is this place?”

“This is the castle of lions!” Coran smiled waving his arms out, “it's our new base. Welcome paladins!”

The yellow guy tilted his head, looking impossibly innocent for someone of his stature, “b-base? You mean like, we're going to have to fight those guys again? Like. All the time?”

“Essentially yes. Until Zarkon and the Galra empire are taken down.” Coran played with his mustache.

“Sweet!” Keith flinched as the blue guy screamed in his ear, an arm nearly hitting him, “This is gonna be so cool! Imagine all the ladies that are going to be lining up to see a superhero.”

“Ah,” Allura spoke up, “That's probably something we should discuss.”

The newly found princess was startled when the blue paladin bowed and calmly spoke, “We can talk about it as long as you need your highness. Maybe somewhere private? Dinner perhaps?”

Keith figured by the way the Yellow and Green paladins shook their heads and tsked that the Blue one did that a lot. Of course there would be someone with that type of personality on the team. The type of personality that clashed with Keith's own. The type that Keith already had to deal with in his day to day life. He wasn't sure how he would cope with another guy like Lance. That sorry excuse for both a roommate and a reluctant friend.

Okay… he wasn't that bad. But Keith couldn't stand it sometimes.

“Blue’s not really my color,” Allura shook her head and laughed a bit.

“Back off blue,” Shiro’s voice held no malice, he actually smiled at the antic, “This one’s mine.”

The blue guy blushed. Or at least Keith thinks he did, it was hard to tell under the helmet and visor, “Ah sorry ‘bout that man.”

“Don't be. It's fine,” Shiro was never one to pick a fight for no valid reason.

“Idiot,” Keith whispered to himself before he could stop. He hoped that the guy hadn't heard, he didn't want to fight on the first day of making their team.

No luck. The blue ones head shot up, teeth baring slightly. Keith was sure that the guy was going to pounce on him, or yell at him or… something. But he froze for a millisecond before putting on a smile that made Keith's inside move in a funny way. Good funny or bad funny he couldn't tell.

“Well hello,” Blue grabbed his hand, placing a small kiss on it, “Do you have a name, or can I call you mine?”

Keith swiped his hand back wearing a look of shock, the blush prickling at his skin. It only deepened when Green let out a howl of laughter and was bent at the waist trying to catch their breath.

Shiro cleared his throat, clearly amused at how flustered his brother was. He could almost picture Keith glaring daggers behind his tinted visor. Laughing slightly, he tried to veer the conversation back, “We should discuss our identities.”

The blue one nodded, placing his chin in the crook between his thumb and pointer, “We have to be like Clark Kent right? And protect who we really are for the sake of our loved ones?”

Allura chuckled, probably to be polite, “Yes. Like um, Batman…?”

“Superman! How do you not know superman?” The green one exclaimed, the yellow one put a hand over its mouth to shut them up.

Shiro cleared his throat, “Okay. How about we just make this simple and go by colors. I'll be Black, the princess can be Pink, and there on.”

“What a splendid idea!” Coran seemed to brighten, “I can just go by Coran though. If you prefer.”

“Yes. Okay, then that's settled,” Allura breathed out, “We must not reveal our identities to anyone, including all of us here. The less people that know who we truly are the better. That means transforming out of sight and away from people.”

“Okay question though,” Blue interrupted, “How do we transform? Cause I kinda just tapped my ring when it started glowing and ended up like this.”

Coran smiled, “it's simple, just hold it for three seconds and say “ whatever color you are paladin! Defender of Voltron” you should be fine. Just as long as you don't let those things out of your sight.”

Coran gestured to the jewelry before twirling his moustache. Shiro coughed, “Well, then we'll just have to make sure that they're secure at all times.”

“Yes, the Lion spirits have all chosen you,” Coran leaned back on the dashboard and Keith felt like he was about to get a long lecture.

Green, who had been slumped back in their chair, hunched over to look slightly intrigued by the tale, “Lion spirits?”

“Yes! The lion spirits! Each of you has a possession that a lion has chosen specially. They were all sent to this planet with Allura when she was born and they seem to have chosen all of you,” Coran pointed his finger up towards the ceiling and smiled, “All of you must have very good souls if the lions chose you. Their original Paladins were nothing but Noble.”

“Yes but how did we not… not realize that we had their, um… spirits? Is that what you called them?” Shiro waited for Corans confirmation nod before continuing, “How did we not realize that we had them?”

Blue held out a hand too, “Yeah and how did they know that we’d buy these things?”

“Ah that is a fascinating story,” Coran pulled up a diagram in the space between them, the lights sparkling with an unreadable story, “The lions found their homes in your jewellery, as you call it, after you obtained them. They often track their potential paladins for a while before choosing and they have the ability to talk with their paladins and empathize with them. Perhaps they didn’t think that you were ready for knowledge of their existence yet.”

Keith felt a shiver run down his spine and a warming comfort pool in his stomach. Was it coming from his earring? Was that supposed to be Red? Or! Or! A better explanation for this was that Keith was currently stoned out of his mind or drugged and slumped over at Shiro’s from the obviously tainted tacos and this was all an extremely elaborate acid trip.

“Zarkon will do anything to get his hands on these spirits. Send spies or bounty hunters, or as you have seen, giant robots. The transformations should only last about four of your earth hours max before you need to reset them,” Coran nodded, before pulling what looked like a watch up to his eyes, “Which should be coming up soon. Hurry along, we wouldn't want your identities to be revealed. I’ll go over Altea’s history and the destruction next time, I’m sure you want to hear about that Princess. Your parents would've been proud of how you turned out.”

Allura just nodded, but Keith knew that she really wanted to know more than she was letting on. It was something that the both of them had wanted to know about for a long time. Back when he and Allura were both staying at the same foster home before she aged out of that particular home when Keith was nine and she was fifteen they used to sit around and talk about stuff like this. Their origins.

Keith, poor little Keith who was six years her junior was always hanging around Allura. Which was unusual for him, considering that he liked to be left alone most of the time. At first she found him annoying, Keith was almost positive of this, but she eventually warmed up to the lost child. They’d sit outside on the roof after the foster ladies would go to bed and just look at the stars and laugh about how their parents were probably somewhere in space fighting evil and just dying to come back to see them soon. It was Allura who taught Keith how much fun things like gymnastics could be, showing him how to do cartwheels and front hand springs. It was a nice way to pass those summer days at the foster home.

When she left that was the beginning of one of Keith’s dark periods. He hated describing it like that. It wasn't really all that terrible, but he supposed that there wasn't really a better name for it. He completely closed off, fearing that anyone he would get close to would have to be taken away from him again. He just… learned to adapt. It made him tougher in a way, more skeptical. His curious doe eyes didn't gleam with the same childlike wonderment. But he was still keith, and he learned how to live life. It wasn’t until the Shirogane’s adopted him that he started to feel better, he had even made a few friends at school. Lance had shouted at him and resented his “totally awesome and perfect” being at first, but once Hunk and Pidge had taken a liking towards him Lance started to warm up as well. And by the time Allura had come back into his life as his brothers fancy new girlfriend he was relatively… stable, again. Keith couldn't help but smile a bit at that thought, all the coincidences. He also couldn't help but feel a bit jealous of Allura, finally getting to see where she was from. Cause yes, Keith was at some sort of peace, and yes, he had a loving family and close friends… but that wasn't the same as knowing where you came from. Why you weren’t wanted in the first place…

“Thank you Coran,” Shiro gave a firm nod and Keith almost parroted him like a child would their parent. The man being thanked just smiled widely like he knew something they didn’t and he popped open the gate. With that they left, Coran promising to alert them via tacky jewelry when they should meet up again to train.

That was also about two weeks ago. Now Keith was about ready to kill Blue for nearly shooting him while trying to aim for a Galra. Granted it probably saved Keith a nasty blow to the head and grueling trip to those weird healing pod thingys, but Blue still could've hit him.

Slicing through a robot, Keith growled and pretended it was the other Paladin. Yellow whistled, “woah. Nice one there buddy. I think that was the last of them.”

“Alright Coran!” Blue yelled into their intercom, “Were good down here! Release the fairy dust!”

After the town magically regenerated, the paladins all marched back into the castle, Keith instantly turning to Blue, “You could've shot my head off!”

“But see, here's the thing Red,” Blue stuck up his nose, “I didn't. And I managed to save your ass. This isn't exactly the outstanding thank you that I should be getting.”

“Whatever Blue,” Keith's cheeks were hot, from anger of course, not from that confident and amused smile, “just be careful next time.”

The red paladin stomped past and into the castle before the rest of them, heading towards the main room to probably get briefed before going back to his apartment to crash. It had been a long few hours, and this stupid town was just lucky that he didn't have any homework due the next day.

“What's his deal?” He could hear Blue ask Yellow as they followed him in.

Allura was in a rush, her words jumbled as she spoke, “Alright good work today paladins! We are really bonding as a team. Some need more work than others-” she pointedly looked at Keith and Blue “-and I would love to stay and chat but this fight has taken up more time that I think any of us have anticipated. It is drawing on the fourth hour and if we do not hurry, we will transform back soon.”

With that they were all dismissed and scattered. When Keith finally made it to the apartment he didn't even have enough energy to question where Lance was or why he wasn't back. His roommate would show up eventually. Eventually.

~~~

Keith woke up to the all too chipper sound of his phone. He would have to go and get Lance out of bed soon, the guy didn't seem to wake up to his own alarms. Keiths newest task was to get him to classes on time, as strenuous and torturing it can be sometimes. And despite all those things he said, he and Lance were friends.

Ish.

They had their moments, and they lived together! That had to count for something. They also shared the same friends, and a lot of the same classes. A few were differed here and there due to time. In the slots where Keith took fencing and gymnastics classes, Lance took archery and swimming or track (depending on the season). Both majoring in astrophysics.

Keith put two toaster waffles into their little second hand toaster and wandered down the hall to their bathroom to brush his teeth. He frowned at his reflection in the small mirror above the sink, his hair was sticking up in an unattractive way. Running a comb through it and watching it pop back up, Keith huffed. It was going to be one of those days. He quickly tied as much of it up as he could, though it still looked like a mess, and left the lights on as he exited.

He decided to get dressed after eating (not wanting a repeat of the previous morning where he spilt juice all over himself and had to frantically change), so he skipped his bedroom instead going to get Lance, yawning as he opened the door without knocking, “Lance!”

“Five more minutes,” Lance pulled the blankets over her head, tightening his grip, “The you can drag me to hell all you want.”

“I'm going to go get the water,” there was only a hint of a playful tone in his voice. Because yes, he had once thrown a bucket of water at Lance. Though, being the boy who was always oblivious to common sayings and such, he had actually thrown the bucket as well. How was he supposed to know that you were just supposed to dump the water out? No books ever specified. But regardless of Keiths slight lapse in judgement, it had made a nice bruise form on Lance’s face that stayed for a week or two.

Lance shot up not wanting a repeat, “Don't!”

“Good morning,” Keith rolled his eyes, totally not ready to deal with the image of Lance’s stupid bed head. Ya know, cause he’d just complain about it, no other reason, Keith just trying to save his ears from the barrage of complaints that his roommate would make, not cause it was endearing or any other synonym of the word, “Get up or we’ll have no time to eat.”

Once Keith was out of the room, Lance unwrapped himself from his cocoon of warmth, exposing his skin to the cold autumn air. It was way too freaking early. It was always way to freaking early.

He quickly ran into the bathroom to brushed his teeth, nearly squirting the mint toothpaste everywhere and cursing under his breath. A clean smile is a nice smile. And a nice smile woos the ladies. Pulling on a shirt and some pants that were hanging out of his closet, Lance hopped on one foot trying to get his other sock on while simultaneously exiting his room. He nearly fell over, which wasn't new. That in itself was a daily occurrence. As was Keith's side step to avoid his wobbling on his way into the kitchen. They had learned to work around each other, with each other at times as well.The toaster looked as if it had been done for a few moments before either of them had a chance to enter the kitchen, Keith ran to get plates, “Here. It's still hot be careful.”

Lance slid into the stool at the counter before he gladly stuffed some of the waffle in his mouth, but not without his usual quip, “Truly a nutritional breakfast here Keith.”

Keith rolled his eyes and turned to pour syrup over his and Lances waffles, “Bite me. If you want something better then wake up yourself.”

“Maybe I will,” Lance took another bite, wrinkling his nose a bit at the fingers that he got sticky, “Do we grab Pidge and Hunk today?”

Keith used a fork, like a civilized person would, “Nope. They texted earlier that they have to be there early, something about a project.”

“Perfect,” He watched as Keith shook his head at the way he licked the syrup off his fingers and waved his now cleanish hand over at the fridge, “Please?”

Keith stood again to get glasses out of the cupboard above the sink. Why couldn’t Lance just get something for himself? Why was Keith saying this in his head? “Why can’t you get your own drink ever?”

“Because I know you’ll get it for me,” Lance’s smile faltered a bit at Keith’s glare, “Keith… Buddy? Love you.”

The boy in question just rolled his eyes at the dragged out ‘you’ and poured himself a glass of orange juice and got a cup of ice for his friend, “Here.”

“What’s this?” Lance raised an eyebrow at the ice then at the sitting boy, “Ice?”

“Yep,” Keith just turned to dig around in his backpack. He made a small victory noise when he pulled out his phone.

Lance sat there for a moment, waiting to see if Keith would say anything else. But when the other boy seemed to just be mindlessly checking things on the screen, Lance poked him, “Keith I can’t drink this.”

“Wait, it’ll melt,” Keith didn’t look up still, but Lance could see the small smirk making its way to his face.

Lance sighed and forced himself to get up, “I hate you sometimes.”

“Really? I thought you hated me all the time, ” Keith started tapping at the screen, “my how far we have come.”

“Sarcasms really not appreciated,” Lance just poured the ice into a canteen and then filled his glass with Milk, “Nice hair by the way, really goes with the whole I don’t give a shit look ya got going on today.”

He could hear Keith put his phone down and when he turned Keith just had an elbow on the counter and his head in his palm. A small frown adorned his features and he sighed, “I didn’t change yet. I probably should.”

Lance watched as his roommate walked in the direction of his bedroom, leaving a quarter of his waffle untouched. Keith had been wearing a pair of grey sweats that could have honestly been Lance’s at one point, since the pant legs were too long and now had holes at the bottom from stepping on the extra fabric. It wasn’t uncommon for them to wind up with some of the others clothes since they just combined their laundry to save water, though they’d usually notice right away and return them. Usually. Keith had a problem figuring out what was his and what wasn’t since he never really paid attention to which clothes were his. Shiro was always adding hand-me-downs to his collection anyways so it was hard to keep track. Plus the clothes that Lance outgrew he would give to Keith too, if he wanted them. If not then they went to his younger siblings and Pidge to root through. But the shirt that Keith was wearing that morning had definitely been one of Lance’s, the one he had been looking for but gave up on a month ago. It was an old NASA shirt that had paint stains on it from that one time they tried to redo the living room.

Lance chuckled fondly at that memory as he reached over to eat the rest of Keith’s waffle. He had been complaining for about three months after they reluctantly moved in together about the horrible shade of red on the wall.

They had moved in together when Lance had been kicked out of student dorming back in sophomore year of highschool because some shit that his roommate did (and the both of them were blamed for) and Keith had had enough of living with Allura and Shiro. Back then they had barely known each other, having Pidge as their only mutual friend but never had they all hung out. Lance had been whining about having no place to live when he was chilling with Hunk, “Dude! I’m broke and I have nowhere to go. All my stuff is going to be put on the curb in two weeks!”

“That sucks bro,” Hunk said in a totally not sympathetic way since he was too invested in his homework and had been listening to Lance repeat the same thing for the past hour, “Good luck with that.”

Pidge was out with someone they both hadn’t caught the name of and were left in the apartment to fend for themselves. It was a Saturday, and Hunk still chose to do the extra homework that wasn’t due for another two weeks, claiming that he’d forget it by then. Honestly it was a smart idea and he probably should have followed his friend's example, but Lance just groaned again, “Hunk! How did you and Pidgey manage to get this place? It’s so cheap for like, all this room. You gotta hook a brother up.”

“Actually,” Hunk looked up from his writing, “There is this apartment upstairs that’s open for rent. The woman up there is moving to Rhode Island and had to leave almost immediately. She was so nice too, had a tiny little baby and-”

“Okay Hunk! Set it up, I wanna see it!” Lance jumped to his feet, “Imagine if we lived in the same building! All the late night movies nights that we can actually have because we won’t have to worry about student curfew!”

Hunk had just sighed, knowing Lance wouldn’t let up until he called the apartment building super and request a tour. Lance was just lucky that Hunk had fixed the guys radiator once and now they were friends.

The apartment wasn’t terribly big, but Lance was awe struck by it when Hunk unlocked the door. The foyer opened up into a decent sized living area that had two nice floor to ceiling windows. Lance was already planning everything out in his head, his TV that he got as a going away present would go right in between those windows… and the plants he had could go next to it. There was a counter connecting the kitchen area to the living room area, the place was had an open concept. Lance knew his mom would love being able to talk to him from the kitchen while he played video games with his siblings whenever they came to visit. Or if Lance ever got that special someone he had been looking for, they could talk while one of them made dinner or something.

The closet off the side of the living room had a washer and dryer in it, as well as a few shelves for soaps and things. On the other side was a hallway. The bedrooms were adjacent from each other and the bathroom was at the end of the hall, which Lance gaped at, “Its great!”

The mirror was small but there was a lot of counter space and the tub was big and the shower head was an appropriate height. Lance practically raced into one of the bedrooms. The walls were a baby blue and the closet was a nice size. But what got Lance falling in love with it was the skylight that lined the ceiling in one nice strip in the back, “I want this room. This… is perfect.”

Hunk just rolled his eyes, “Why don't you look at the other room first.”

“Nope. This one. This one’s mine, end of story,” Lance said looking up at the sky, “I’m going to just sit here and look at the stars for hours.”

Then there was the noise. A bam! sound of some sort, like someone had bumped into something. Hunk jumped out of his skin practically, “What was that!”

“I dunno, but I take it back. I don't wanna live somewhere that's haunted,” Lance clung onto his friend, “L-let's go check it out.”

“It came from the other bed room,” Hunk pushed Lance out the door, “You go first.”

Lance rolled his eyes but there was undeniable shaking in his step as he toed the door open. He screamed.

“What! Ghosts? Lance what is it,” Hunk had clamped his eyes shut and hid behind his best friend despite being almost twice his size.

“No,” Hunk perked up curiously at Pidge’s voice, “Just us. What are you guys doing here?”

Lance just ignored the question, “Hunk it’s worse than ghosts, it’s Keith!”

“Keith?” Hunk stood up straight and tried to look past Lance’s flailing arms, “Are you sure?”

“Who are you?” Keith had eyed him, “And what are you doing in my new apartment?”

Lance stopped freaking out for a moment to glare at Keith, pointing a finger at him, “Your new apartment? I don’t think so buddy, I’m buying this place.”

“Keith, this is Lance. He was recently thrown out of student housing,” Pidge sighed, “Lance, this is Keith, his brother’s girlfriend recently moved in with him and his brother and he doesn't want to live with them.”

“I know who this is Pidge,” Lance sneered, “We’re rivals at school.”

Keith just raised an eyebrow, “Rivals? Who even are you?”

“Lance! Ya know… Lance!” He poked his finger into the other's chest harder, “You seriously can’t remember who I am?”

“Oh, you’re that kid that accidentally tripped and dropped acid all over the floor the first week of school, right?” Keith looked genuinely curious for a moment before he narrowed his eyes and swatted Lance’s hand away, “Don’t touch me.”

“Listen, you both need a place to stay,” Hunk intervened, being the voice of reason, “Why don’t you both share the apartment? I know how much you both want it. Need it even. And it’ll lower the cost even more!”

“Fine with me, I’m going to go get the forms and stuff. See you later Pidge,” Keith just waved and headed towards the door. Lance thought he was seeing red, steam coming out of his ears. How dare his rival not remember who he was? Keith had to be the most infuriating, terrible, beautifully ignorant person that he had ever met. Stopping at the door, Keith turned back to the three that were now in the hallway watching him and smirked, “Oh, and Lance was it? Rule one if we’re going to do this, don’t talk to me.”

They broke that rule within weeks of them actually moving in. Keith quickly realized that he and Lance were going to have to communicate somehow, so he went with sticky notes for the first two weeks. They were simple notes like ‘My laundry is in the washer’ or ‘were out of OJ, I’ll pick some up later’. Lance thought he was going to have to build a working friendship with a packet of post-its for the rest of his time in the apartment.To say that their first official meeting, that both of them remember that is, did not go smoothly is an understatement. It wasn’t until Allura and Shiro made a surprise house warming appearance that Keith had to say something.

“Allura, Shiro. This is my roommate Lance,” Keith shook his head at the way Lance seemed to gawk at them. It was hard not to, they were probably the most aesthetically pleasing, photographic people Keith had ever known, “Lance this is my brother, and his girlfriend.”

“You…” For a split second Keith was worried that Lance was going to hit on one of them. Pidge mentioned that he had a hard time controlling himself in front of pretty people. But instead Lance just turned to him and grinned triumphantly, “You talked to me!”

At that Shiro and Allura both gave him disappointed and confused looks, knowing that he could isolate himself it he wanted to. Thus began what Lance and Keith both hated for quite a while, their forced friendship. Shiro, Pidge, Hunk, and Allura decided that it was best for all of them to start hanging out in a group, meaning that Keith and Lance would actually have to interact. Lance, personally, had no real issue with it. He definitely didn’t want to live with a stranger, his mother would not approve, and he was open to the idea of friendship. Not necessarily a strong one, but one that was stable enough to say, “Hey Keith, is this your sock?” without the fear of getting punched. Keith didn’t seem that invested in it though.

It took a while for him to open up, the whole group thing was slowly working. Slowly being a key word. They quickly learned that they all liked hanging out together which was great because Lance didn’t have a real group of tight friends since seventh grade. And Keith didn’t have one like, ever.

Lance and Keith had gotten along better, but it wasn’t until Keith came back to the apartment to find Lance trying to pry open a paint can three months after moving in together with a chopstick that things really started to change between them. Keith dropped the groceries on the counter and stared at him, furniture moved and trash bags lining the hardwood floor, “What are you doing?”

“What does it look like Keith,” Lance grunted as he tried to wedge the stick in again, “I’m obviously trying to open this.”

It was silent for a few minutes, so Lance figured that Keith lost interest and went into his room to brood or something like that. But then a screwdriver was stuck in his face and Keith’s hand was attached to it, “Here, try this.”

“Thanks,” Lance blinked for a moment, shocked that Keith was helping him. He smiled at the other boy, “Wanna help me paint over this awful red?”

Keith looked around their living room, the paint was a deep red that he honestly kind of liked, “Why?”

“It’s terrible Keith,” Lance waved his arms around, “I went out and bought this like, weeks ago but forgot about it.”

When Lance popped open the can and mixed it, Keith was slightly mesmerized by the deep blue color. Lance just continued to pour it onto the roller pan and gestured to the roller near Keith. Keith held it up cautiously, “In there?”

“Duh Keith,” Lance responded, reaching for the remote, “Mind if we watch some TV while we work?”

Lance put on one of the Friends DVDs that he had, starting at season one. Keith smiled, “I love this show.”

“You do?” Lance snorted. Keith didn’t really seem like the type to sit around and watch sit coms. Maybe documentaries, but funny little shows like Friends? Nope, never would have guess. Though Lance learned over time that one of Keith's guilty pleasures was to curl up under a blanket and go to town on Lance’s sitcom DVD collection. He caught his roommate once at three am laughing at the TV, which made Keith stutter out an excuse with an adorable blush on that didn’t go away until Lance insisted it was fine and joined him.

Keith got changed into clothes he didn’t really care about and rejoined Lance in his painting adventure. There was only an occasional laugh from one of them for quite awhile. They both decided to start on random parts of the walls, which they later regretted since Lance hadn’t bought enough paint to cover the whole room.

“What idiot doesn’t buy enough paint to paint a room?” Keith raised an eyebrow, his expression filled with amusement instead of annoyance.

Lance just shrugged, “I dunno, what kind of Idiot has paint all over his face?”

Keiths hands flew to his face to check for wet paint, but found nothing, “What? I don't ha-”

Lance smeared what was left in the bucket on to Keith’s cheek, “You were saying?”

That seemed to be the wrong thing to do and Lance was regretting it when Keith stuck his palm in the paint then hit Keith right in the middle of his face. Keith laughed at the shell shocked expression and didn’t stop until Lance sandwiched his face in between two paint colored palms of his own.

“Lance!” Keith cried out through a fit of laughter, which was honestly one of the nicest sounds that Lance had ever heard. It sounded genuinely happy, and unbound to anything. Unrestrained, light.

Lance just smiled as he stood and held a hand out, “Yes honey dearest?”

“Are you getting hungry?” Keith got up as well and tried to wipe his hands off on his shirt. His expression was still bright and if Lance squinted enough, a bit flustered from his last comment. Lance couldn’t help but think that Keith should look like that all the time, undoubtedly and purely happy. He started to walk closer to Keith, which alarmed the other into backing up win matching steps, “Lance? Are you oka-”

Keith’s eyes widened for a moment, realizing that he hd just backed up into a wall with wet paint all over it. Lance smirked, “I’m okay. You good?”

Slamming his hand into the wet wall first, Keith pushed Lance backwards and left a handprint on his NASA shirt, “Perfect.”

“Oh, you are so getting it Kogane!” Lance swiped at the wall, “Get back here!”

Lance tried to grab at Keith, who side stepped and made Lance fall face first into an area of the wall that was still red. Keith laughed, “Too slow.”

“How’s this,” Lance turned to get as much paint all over him as he could before launching himself at his roommate, “For too slow?”

Keith’s entire body shook with laughter as he tried to roll Lance off of him, “You’re heavy. Get off!”

“I don't know,” Lance let himself melt into dead weight, “I'm pretty comfy right now.”

Keith gave one hard shove and it had lance sprawling out on the trash bag covered floor with a hard sounding thud, “mm you comfy now.”

“Jesus okay, you can push pretty hard. So chinese?” Lance sat up and Keith nodded.

When the food arrived Lance paid the guy, claiming that it was the least he could do for making Keith help him paint the walls. Sort of. As they both settled in the middle of the living room, food containers placed in places without paint, they observed their handy work. Or lack thereof.

“We really fucked up these walls didn’t we?” Lance let out a low whistle, “I think I can see an imprint of my face on that one.”

Keith shrugged, “They're one of a kind now.”

It was true. No one else in the world had walls that were painted inconsistently in both blue and red with terrible hand prints and smears everywhere. Probably.

“That’s true,” Lance nodded, “First home renovation and we can’t say that we didn’t make it special.”

Keith just hummed, “Yeah…”

Lance still didn’t know a lot about Keith at that point, and Keith probably didn’t know a lot about him either. Which was fine, they were still growing.

“So, why did you need to move out of Shiro and Allura’s?” Lance asked since he never really knew why, “I had to move because my roommate decided to pull a prank on the dean and I got blamed too. So what was it? Were they being to lovey dovey?”

Lance was worried that he over stepped somehow when Keith went quiet. Putting down the container, Keith leaned back on his palms to stare out the big windows at the stars. His reply was so quiet that Lance almost didn’t catch it, “It’s exactly because of what you just said.”

“What? They were being too coupley?” Lance copied the other's movements. The stars were so bright that night.

Keith shook his head, “No. You called it Shiro and Allura’s. It was never really my home.”

“What?” Lance raised an eyebrow, “I’m sure people called it Keith and Shiro’s before Allura moved in.”

“Not what I meant,” Keith sighed and went silent for another moment, “I never really felt at home there. Like it was mine. It was always Shiro’s place to me. And Allura fits in there now, so it was time for me to start over.”

Lance turned to face him, “So this place can be your home now.”

Lance didn’t really get it. But maybe that’s because he’s always had a place to call his home. Surrounded by people he loved and memories that were irreplaceable. A place where he knew that he could just be himself, a place where he didn’t have to worry about doing things like turning a perfectly painted room into shit and getting kicked out. And Keith… well. Lance had heard enough of his story to know that Keith probably never had any of that.

“Maybe…” Keith’s reply came after a while, his purple eyes still focused on the stars but his expression wistful.

That was about three years ago. Now they were close friends that were going to the same college that was joint with their old high school. Still living together. Still hung out with the same friends. Still had that same crappily painted living room.

Lance couldn’t help but wonder if Keith considered their apartment his home now.

“We promised Allura to stop by to help pick out flowers for the wedding,” Keith walked back in fully dress, “Are you okay? You look dazed.”

“Yeah it’s all good. Just… thinking,” Lance replied, still a bit out of it.

Keith waved a hand in front of his eyes then snapped until Lance blinked, “Don’t hurt yourself there.”

“Shut up Keith,” Lance swatted his hand away, “I’m smart.”

Keith just shrugged, “Whatever you say. Anyways, were you listening? Allura and Shiro need us after school so don’t forget.”

“As if I would forget to help them plan the most upcoming wedding of the century,” Lance tugged on his backpack, “You better not forget.”

“I won't.” Keith laughed, slipping on his shoes to run out of the door. Initiating an unspoken challenge.

Lances legs picked up speed as he chased his friend out of the two story complex and down the street, “Good!”

“Good!” Keith called out from over his shoulder.

Lance let out an aggravated howl. And by the time they entered the school grounds they were panting at Pidge and Hunks feet.

“Why the hell are you guys so sweaty? It's not even seven thirty yet!”

~~~

This paladin stuff required a lot of running since there was no other convenient mode of transportation. None of them owned a car, or rather the ones who did were not confident about not crashing in the haste. Obviously the bus was out, and Lance could pull out his bike but what would he do with it once he got to the fight? Just leave it there? Oh hell no, not after he has kept it safe all those years with his trusty bike lock.

So yes. Lance was extremely happy that his mother had forced her baby flash into running track since fourth grade. No matter how Lance looked at it, he was grateful for his mother chiding him and pushing him to run. Imagine if he didn't! Yeah he had Archery as a sport but that didn't do much for your cardiovascular health.

He remembered the first time he was called into battle. Or, rather the first time that he, Hunk, and Pidge were. They were all over for a movie night at his place, obviously since they do that every week. But this time Keith was over at Allura and Shiro’s for dinner so they were down a person for popcorn.

How awkward would that have been if Keith were there too? They'd all see their glowing jewelry shit and have to leave him there while they were pulled towards the center of town. Or maybe he'd pass out like Hunk almost did when they transformed into their armour. Whatever it was, Lance was sure that it was fate that Keith remained oblivious to the fact that he and Blue were the same person. What would he do if he found out that his friends were also members of Voltron? Probably tell Allura and Shiro… then they’d get the ‘that's dangerous be careful’ speech from their parents away from home.

And that wasn't a conversation that Lance really wanted to have. Again.

The first time he had met Black, Pink and Red, Lance was shocked for a lack of a better word. He supposed that a three man team wouldn't have been that effective against the shit they were facing, but he wasn't sure what to expect. Pink was beautiful, that much was obvious. And of course Lance could see how Black was perfect for someone like her. Only Shiro and Allura’s future children would be able to compete with Pink and Black’s in the looks department. And every other department. Lance thought it was unfair that god or some being out there made two sets of perfect beings.

After hitting on Pink and thoroughly embarrassing himself, not that he really noticed, Lance saw Red. Well, heard him. And yes, Lance had just finished being starstruck over the only female there but there was something about the tiny pout on Red’s lips that made him smile and want to tease him Using one of his classic lines, he was delighted to see a hint of pink on the little bit of skin that the helmets revealed. Lance had to grudgingly admit that Red was something of a looker, adorable even.

Not that he’d ever say anything like that aloud. Not anymore anyways. Not after he and Red developed some sort of rivalry or something.

This whole paladin stuff is fun, trust him. Lance loved being a paladin. Coran had graciously explained to them the next day how everything was supposed to go down. It sounded, for a lack of better words, dangerous. But unique and fun. Might kill them, but fun.

“You will all be responsible for saving not only this world, but many other planets as well!” Coran had smiled widely, clasping his hands together, “You will form the Voltron team! Led by Black and the Princess of course. You’ll all be heros! Defenders of the Universe!”

Lance liked the sound of that. Heros! It sounded daring and cool, like he was. He could finally show everyone that he was good for something, even if that something was putting his life on the line for everyone else.

“Do you ever think it's strange that they wait until after school?” Lance asked, running towards the center of town yet again, “I mean. Do you think maybe the evil mastermind has school too and that's why he never attacks during the day.”

“As important as an education is Blue,” Pidge was slightly behind him, “I doubt that Zarkon waits until after school hours. You probably just jinxed us.”

“Ah Black you're so lucky,” Lance waved his hand, the black paladin turning to him, “You don't have to deal with the woes of school life.”

“Wait until you join the work force,” Black smiled, if they weren't running Lance was sure that he would've crossed his arms, “You're going to beg to go back to school. Try to save up for a wedding on top of college debt too.”

“You're getting married?”

Black looked a little confused by the question. He tried to study what he could from Lance's face. Had he mentioned this before and Lance just forgot or wasn't paying attention? Black slowed down, chuckling awkwardly, “Didn't I tell you?”

“Not that I remember,” Lance blinked. Pidge looked up at him with a laugh.

“But Blue has always been a bit slow.”

“Not funny Green,” Lance squawked, “I remember plenty of things-”

“Sure you do”

“-and, as a matter of fact, I just remembered that I'm missing some wedding planning right now too.”

“You're getting married?” Pidge bit down on their bottom lip at Blacks question, hitting him in the side.

Lance swore he heard Pidge whisper, something to Black along the lines of ‘if he doesn't’

“Nah,” Lance waved his hand and shrugged, “My two friends are. This college kids still single.”

“I wonder why,” Pidges voice was dripping with sarcasm while they tried to conceal a laugh. That was always a weird saying to Lance, dripping with sarcasm. It was accurate enough cause it was as if Pidge had plunged their words into liquified sarcasm and the extra was falling off of it. But still, it was a weird image.

“Guys!” Hunk called from his spot just a few feet behind them, his voice worried, “Guys! Look at that!”

Lance's full attention was drawn to the newest robot contraption thingy. It was huge, “oh fuck.”

“Alright team!” Pink’s voice was kind of static in their helmets, “This robeast is armed!”

Hunk and Red had come up behind them, Hunk panicking, “Armed? Like, he has a gun or like, several arms? Or both, oh god don't let it be both! Princess tell me it's not both!”

“Calm down yellow,” Black commanded as firmly as he could, “We have to just take this step by step.”

The battle wasn't as long as they had anticipated from the size of the monster. It took maybe an hour at most, Red and Pidge worked to cut off its arms (“Its both Yellow. It's arms are infused with rifles of some sort”) and then Lance shot through the plate on its back and it was down.

The easiness of it all made them a little weary. But that didn't stop them from going back to the conveniently hidden spaceship to celebrate.

~~~

“She's just magnificent, isn't she?” Lance was gawking at the new student sitting across the courtyard, “Her name is Nyma, how foreign and perfect.”

Keith scoffed as he stabbed his salad with a little more force than necessary, annoyed at Lance's latest antics. Hunk whined, “Dude come on! Finish eating, we gotta get to the cafe.”

“Why?” Lance raised an eyebrow, “You wanna go see your girlfriend before her shift ends?”

“She's not my girlfriend, she just happens to be a really nice barista that I admire very much and who also happens to be in the same fine culinary arts class as me,” Hunk pointed a finger in a matter of factually way. It was true! Shay was nothing more than a friend (sadly) and he did like hanging out with her in culinary class. The girl knew how to cook, and like people always said: the way to a man’s heart is throughout his stomach. And man did Hunk love those little tartlets that Shay seemed to magically make with ease.

Pidge snickered, they knew that Hunk had somewhat connected with the part time Barista that Allura had hired at her and Shiro's cafe, “Yeah, the blush really helps your case there.”

“Shut up Pidge,” Hunk mumbled, hands hiding his face, “Just hurry up so we can go!”

“Should I go talk to her?” Lance all but ignored Hunks exasperation, “I mean, I am the smoothest, most handsome person here. I should show her around.”

“What you should do is finish eating,” this time it was Keith that glared at him. Lance looked him dead in the eyes and brought his fork full of leftover pasta to his mouth as slowly as humanly possible. Keith growled in response, “Lance!”

“Yeah cupcake?” Lance feigned innocence, batting his eyes to really sell it, “Whatever am I doing wrong?”

Pidge didn't know whether or not the pinkish color on Keith cheeks was from frustration or something else, but they knew that they had to stop Lance before everyone started screaming again, “C’mon Lance. Allura and Shiro need us to go help them deliver the invitations.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Lance waved them off, finally covering the Tupperware and putting it back in his bag, “I hear you. You guys go first, I'm just going to talk to her.”

Hunk didn't need to be told twice, “Alright buddy. But don't forget to show your face since we have no more classes today, Shiro and Allura will be pretty upset if they find out you ditched for a girl.”

“Mmhm. Got it Hunk, don't piss off Shallura,” Lance waved his hand, “hurry up before you miss Shay.”

Hunk mumbled something along the lines of “for the last time we're not dating!” before Pidge presumable cut his rant off with a pull on his shirt and an annoyed sounding “shut up Romeo and let's just go!”

There was shuffling that Lance barely registered in his day dreams of sweeping Nyma off her feet. The chattering growing quieter and quieter until the faint buzzing was non existent. Lance sighed, finally alone and allowed to shamelessly look from afar for as long as he pleased. Or… so he thought. He jumped slightly when Keith's voice was directly shot into his ear, “What's a Shallura?”

“Jesus fucking Christ Keith! Give a guy some warning,” Lance turned to glare at Keith, the two jumping far apart when their noses accidentally touched. Coughing after choking on what seemed like air, Lance put his hands on his knees to catch his breath, “ how old are you exactly?”

“Nineteen,” Keith deadpanned, rubbing at his nose, “Why? What does that have to do with anything?”

“Shallura is Shiro and Allura's couple name, duh Keith,” Lance blinked. Keith did nothing but stare at him blankly. Groaning and shaking his head, Lance walked back over to sling an arm around his friend, “Y’know like… Brangelina or B-Zee.”

Keith managed to cross his arms, “Okay?”

“You're obviously not getting this,” Lance placed his chin between his fingers, “It's like… well… ours would be Leith. Or Klance. It's our names just smushed together.”

“That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard,” Keith glared, crinkling his nose in a way that was definitely not adorable, “What idiots come up with this stuff.”

It wasn't a question. But Lance treated it as if Keith was genuinely asking, “Me. I come up with this stuff. Personally I like Klance for us, it has more of my name which is obviously better. Keith is such a douchebag name.”

“It is not,” Keith huffed, “But that's fine with me. My name comes first like how I manage to beat you at everything.”

Lance sputtered a bit, “Well there's more of my name in it so… uh… there! I win.”

“That makes zero sense,” Keith just shook his head with a slightly exasperated sigh, “It's just a dumb name.”

“It is not! It's cute and creative,” Lance ran a hand through his hair, “Like me.”

“So it's extra stupid,” Lance hated the way Keith always rolled his eyes. Especially when he did it without any real annoyance, just slight amusement. Like now, why did he have to make that face. It was so… friendly? Endearing? Like he was enjoying fighting. Lance won't deny that sometimes it was fun, and more often than not now a days their arguments had more fond undertones compared to the absolute detestation they held when they first met. But that was also what annoyed him! What gave Keith the right to look like that?

“Rude Keith. I'll prove to you it's not stupid,” Lance mimicked Keith and crossed his arms.

The other didn't look too impressed, “How?”

“Um…” Lance looked around. How was he going to prove it? Ask someone? He could sense that someone was walking past them behind Lance, so he spun around quickly to get the stranger's attention, “Hey! Could you settle something for- Nyma?”

Keith let out a snort at the unnaturally high octave that Lance's voice reached. The girl that Lance had shot his arm out at blinked in surprise, “Hi? Do I know you?”

“Not yet,” Lance regained his posture and winked at her, surprised when she didn't turn away in with that unsure look that most people had, “but we could get to know each other.”

Lance was finally going to get somewhere with someone. This time he'd do everything right. He was going to pull out all of the stops, pull on every Disney movie he's ever watched. Nyma and her beautiful blonde head was going to be his. And they were going to slowly fall in love everyday and use those stupid cliche wedding vows and name their kids something along the lines of Marco and Lucille and die old together in a house on a nice hill looking over the sunset. Yes. He was certain of it.

~~~

Keith was a big enough person to admit that Lance was somewhat good looking. Okay, very good looking. With his stupid eyes and lean tall body and his broad shoulders from all that swimming and… okay off track here. Point is, he was attractive, which made it kind of confusing for Keith who didn't understand why Lance hadn't had a significant other in a while. It wasn't like Lance didn't put himself out there. And it wasn't like there were no rumors of Sally or Jane or whatever people were named now a days having a crush on Lance.

And don't get Keith wrong. He was secretly grateful there were zero chances of him walking in on something he would want to forget. But he still had to wonder.

There was something more to Lance than just his looks though. Which, Keith figured, deterred some people. His personality was bright and excited and overall big and loud. It wasn't something everyone could handle. He was a self proclaimed flirt extraordinaire and often stated how he was the meme god's gift to the world. Whatever that meant. Some people didn't understand him or ridiculed him for his seemingly too optimistic outlook. They called him naive, claimed he would miss the really important things and do everything for show. People thought he wouldn't be able to handle a real relationship. That he was too out there for most people's taste.

But Keith just thought he was a goofball. A dork with a big mouth. There was nothing wrong with that.

Though many people didn't have to live with Lance either. Keith could sometimes see how Lance could be irresponsible, forgetful or spacey. He thought something along those lines when they first met. But he always did what he had to do and then some when it counted.

It was little things that he did. He still called his mom to say goodnight everyday at exactly nine thirty like clockwork. He looked out for that weird computer part that Pidge desperately needed to complete their super computer whenever they went out shopping. He could instantly tell when any of them needed cheering up, and would just crack a joke and smile. If it came down to it he would always shut up and be a good pair of ears to vent to.

Keith liked the small things he did around the apartment too. Like buying Keith his chunky peanut butter and eating that with Keith in order to save money even though he personally preferred the creamy kind. Or that He often draped a blanket over Keith if he found the boy snoozing on the couch, and if he was feeling adventurous and sure that Keith was in a deep enough sleep he would carry him into his room. Or that Lance had memorized his schedule down to a T and reminds him when he has to do things with a simple “oh Keith aren't you going late for that flipping or whatever practice with Allura?” Or “you have that weird English thing due tomorrow right?” They were subtle reminders that he could have bragged about remembering. Or at least he could have held it over Keith's head that he himself didn't remember some of the times. But he didn't gloat about how good of a person he was for doing these sort of things.

The little things reminded Keith that Lance wasn't actually a terrible person, and that if you got to know him he was actually nice to hang around. They reminded Keith why he shouldn't just kill Lance in his sleep with the knife under his pillow on particularly trying days when his patience was wearing thing.

Nyma was giggling into her palm, “What is it that you needed settled?”

“Oh nothing it was stupid,” Lance waved his hand, trying to play his outburst off.

Keith raised an eyebrow, “So you admit that it's stupid?”

“No,” Lance turned to shoot Keith a look, “it's not stupid, I just don't want to bother poor Nyma over here with our stupid fight that you clearly have lost.”

“Oh I wouldn't want to get in the middle of a fight between…” Nyma shifted her gaze from one boy to the other, obviously trying to find the right word to describe whatever she thought they were.

“Rivals,” Lance supplied at the same time Keith just stated, “Roommates.”

Nyma looked slightly confused, “Rival roommates?”

“Yep… roommates… who are also rivals.” Lance trailed off, “But that's not important. The names Lance, how would you feel about going to get some coffee sometime?”

Nyma eyed Keith one more time, making him squirm a little, before turning to Lance, “That would be lovely actually.”

“Really?” Lance sounded genuinely shocked.

Nyma just nodded and Lance let out a whoop. Keith tapped his foot in slight irritation as he waited for them to exchange contact information. They had to get to Allura and Shiro's okay? So of course he was a little antsy. And this girl… she didn't sit quite right with him. He was a person that followed his instincts and right now, they told him to stay away from this girl. Red flashing lights and everything going off in his mind.

“Oh what a nice ring,” Nyma commented as she handed Lance his phone back.

Lance put on what Keith thought was supposed to be a flirty smile, “Thanks. One of a kind, it's really something special.”

“I can tell,” Nyma waved, smile dazzling, “See you around Lance.”

Lance was just a stuttering mess, “Yea. You see soon. I mean! See you soon!”

Lance claimed he was in love. Keith said he was being ridiculous.

~~~

“I don't get what Keith's problem is,” Lance said as soon as he squeezed into the booth Pidge and Hunk were occupying. They had probably been at Alluras cafe for at least thirty minutes, meaning his was thirty minutes late. Pidge already had their computer out and was typing away at something again while Hunk was looking over at the counter where Shay was wiping down the espresso machine.

“What did he do this time?” Pidge didn't even look up, “you guys were pretty late.”

“Well, since you asked, he snapped at me again,” Lance glared at nothing, “He said I was being stupid when I said I was in love.”

“What?” Pidge turned to him, “You told him what?”

“I told him I was in love with Nyma,” Lance casually stated, “And then he totally flipped for no reason.”

Okay, maybe Lance was exaggerating a bit. Keith didn't scream or anything, just did that stupid pouty mumbling to himself not at all adorable thing that Lance hated. He liked it when Keith smiled at him, and couldn't Keith be happy for his friend? Maybe reward Lances efforts with at least a tiny smile. Pat him on the shoulder and say, good going dude you totally got her in the bag good luck. Except maybe say it in a more Keith way.

“Who is this girl again?” Pidge couldn't help but ask. The people that Lance claimed to love and die for were always somewhat interesting. Or more accurately it was interesting to hear about the different ways someone could be turned down. Pidge had faith in their friend though, Lance would open his eyes and see someone perfect for him one day. And if he was too stupid to use common sense, Pidge would just have to beat it into him.

“Nyma, just moved here the other day. She's breathtaking. Has the prettiest eyes too. Only the most beautiful people on this earth must have that weird purpley color. It's definitely special,” Lance looked starstruck and Pidge looked to the side of him, as if they were on the office, “she has a nice shy smile, oh god. She seems so calm and collected but she's got this fiery bold passion in her, I can tell. She and I are going to go on tons of daring adventures together.”

“Seems like you have a type,” Pidge mumbled to themselves while Lance continued to ramble on obliviously.

“And guess who has her phone number, that's right. Me! I actually got it,” lance looked like he was swooning.

“Wait what?” Pidge snorted, obviously not expecting that, “I mean. Good for you but wow.”

“Don't act so surprised pidgey, I got game,” Lance pointed two thumbs to himself, “She and I are going to live happily ever after.”

“I dunno Lance,” Hunk tore his eyes away from the counter, eyebrows scrunched together, “I kinda have a bad gut feeling about her.”

“Ugh, not you too! I've already had it up to here,” Lance raised his arm as far as it would reach, “with Keith and Red. I don't need this from you too buddy. Please!”

“What did Red do?” Lance looked at Pidge like their question had personally attacked his mother or something.

“What do you mean what did he do?” Lance waved his arms around erratically, “He's so annoying and a know it all! He practically hates me for no reason!”

“I don't see how this relates to Nyma,” Pidge just gave him a blank look, “but you did goaded him into running into a wall the first day of training and you started another stupid rivalry with him like the non-existent one you have with Keith.”

“He's still stupid,” Lance groaned and threw his head back, “Aren't you guys supposed to be on my side, you are my friends?”

“Yeah but we're also Keith's friends if you haven't noticed,” Pidge closed their laptop and scooched out of the booth, “I've just reached my Lance limit. I'll be in the back of you need me.”

~~~

Shiro wanted to shoot himself. Which, in itself, wasn't a rare passing thought (alarmingly enough). But this time it wasn't his well hidden and deeply buried emo side making a surprise appearance. No, it was Keith that was currently making Shiro wish that his brains were splattered about the table instead of inside his head.

In Shiro’s defense, Allura also looked like she was moments from strangling herself. Keith just continued to pace in front of the table, unusually talkative. But that was probably because he was ranting, “Blue is so, Agh! I already have to deal with Lance on top of it! They're like the same person Shiro, except not! How is it that I somehow am stuck with the two of the most infuriating idiots on this planet day in and day out!”

Allura and Shiro exchanged looks. Not quite sure if they should interject. Keith looked at them expectedly and Allura shrugged, “It's fate Keith, what do you want us to do about it?”

“I dunno! Something?” Keith groaned, face in his palms, “Separate us in battle? Let me come live with you guys again for a bit?”

“Keith,” Shiro sighed, he didn't like the nearly hysterical tone his brother was using, the break room in the back of their cafe wasn't the most ideal place for a freak out, “You don't hate Lance. You guys are friends, I'm sure you'll learn to get along with Blue like you have Lance. Working towards things like that will make you a better person.”

“Shiro I'm not sure how much more dumbassery I can take in a day,” Keith waved his arms, “Lance was one thing. I could… ya know, actually see his face. At least I can tell the difference between his I'm joking face and his I'm dead serious face.”

How could they not see that Keith was having a serious crisis? Lance was his friend, he wasn't a stranger. He'd like to think that he knows a lot of Lance trivia since the stupid little facts about him have reluctantly stuck with Keith over the years. The funny way he plays with his thumb and ring finger when he's nervous or how whenever he walked around he avoided cracks at all cost just to be safe. Lance was familiar and… safe.

Blue was a complete mystery. A very Lance like mystery. But still, a complete shadow in the dark. Keith was having a hard time trusting the Paladins his didn't know under the masks. How can you trust someone when you don't even know their name?

“But what do they do that makes it so unbelievably unbearable?” Allura rolled her eyes, continuing filling up sugar containers without much thought, “Sweetie pass me that one?”

Keith watched as Shiro handed over the empty and washed container before continuing his rambling, “They're both just so aggravating! I can't describe it. I thought that I'd only be able to feel this way about Lance but now Blue too. I think my tolerance for stupidity has dropped.”

“Or you are just being sensitive to his- their, taunts,” Shiro sighed, “Why don't we change the subject, why were you guys late today?”

Allura looked up at that one, raising an eyebrow and pursing her lips slightly, “Yes. We've been waiting for almost half an hour, you're lucky Shay came in late today and insisted on staying extra to fill up the time.”

“It wasn't my fault,” Keith pouted, crossing his arms and glaring at the tiles, “Lance was flirting with some girl.”

“Oh?” Allura laughed, head tilted slightly, “And pray tell, why were you there? I'm sure Lance could strike out all on his own without a wingman.”

“I was trying to get his sorry ass over here before you drop kicked him into next week.”

Allura looked like she was contemplating something for a moment, “fair enough. Continue, how did he fail miserably this time.”

“He didn't. He got her number. Nyma, like that's a real name,” Keith was slightly amused by how shocked they both seemed, “But something's off about her.”

“Well, normally i'd agree since I can't picture anyone that actually falls for Lance’s lines being exactly right in the head,” Allura sniggered, “But are you sure? She could just be that one in a million person.”

“Allura, I'm serious,” Keith shook his head, “Something's off! My instincts are telling me to avoid her and that Lance probably should too.”

Allura topped off the sugar and screwed the lid on tight. She shot Shiro the ‘this is your problem now sucker’ look before getting up, “I'm going to go relieve Shay of her duty now.”

Keith looked helplessly at Shiro, “You believe me, right?”

“Well…” Shiro scratched at the back of his head. He was luckily saved by Pidge bursting back in through the door Allura just exited.

“If I have to hear one more word outta Lance's mouth I'm going to stab him with- woah what's with the face? You look like you're also about twenty seconds from murder.”

“Nyma,” Shiro just shrugged and picked up the list of supplies that needed to be bought, “Some girl that-”

“Lance actually got the number of! Yes I've heard!” Pidge groaned and took a seat, “I'm blocking all of this out, I've heard enough about this chick to last me two years.”

Shiro started to check things off the list and there was a brief, wonderful moment of uninterrupted silence. Keith looked between his two friends incredulously, internally freaking out. He had to warn them, or at least get his point across.

“I'm telling you Shiro,” Keith shook his head as his brother did his stock orders, “Something's not right about her.”

“You know,” Pidge called out from the corner where they were huddled up. The break room was small but was the spot that had the best wifi in the cafe, “Normally I would just say that you were jealous or something but-”

“I'm not, what would I even be jealous of?” Keith looked like a strange mix between completely baffled and annoyance, “And I thought you weren't listening anymore.”

“I said but, jeez cool it there,” Pidge waved their hand, “to answer your question first, of her. Duh Keith, and secondly, as I was saying. I would normally just say you were jealous but Hunk had a weird feeling about her too…”

“Hunk?” Shiro finally looked interested, pausing his stock orders, “Why? What did he say?”

Pidge merely shrugged, “Some stuff about his gut not agreeing with her. But then again she was the reason we were late to see Shay so he could've just been upset.”

“No something is wrong,” Keith insisted, turning to Shiro, “Why do you only seem invested when Hunk says something's up?”

“Keith you… you and Lance… you're not…” Shiro seemed to struggle for a minute before he tried to switch gears, “What did she do?”

At that Keith pulled out a chair and crossed his arms, “She was just all giggly.”

“Did she say anything weird though? Or was it just the fact that she actually found Lances flirting amusing that's got you on edge?” Pidge raised an unimpressed eyebrow.

“She was all like,” Keith coughed and raised his voice to mock her. Normally he wouldn't stoop to that level of childishness, but he was only human. And he was annoyed so, “that would be lovely. What a nice ring you got there. Ohhh Lance you're amazingly cool!”

Shiro and Pidge exchanged what could've actually been a worried look before the door opened again.

“I am amazingly cool,” Lance threw his jacket onto the table, the room was growing increasingly smaller, “You finally admit it?”

“No,” Keith glared, “In what world would make you think that I-”

Pidge snickered, “He was imitating your girlfriend.”

“Nyma?” Lance looked at Keith kind of shocked, he narrowed his eyes “Good imitating or bad imitating?”

Keith must have had the oddest look on his face, but he ignored the question, “I’m heading back to the apartment. I have a lot of work to do, call me if you need anything.”

Shiro sighed, “Okay, but you have to be here for stuff tomorrow, you know how crazy all this planning is making Allura.”

“Got it.” Keith nodded on his way out, “I won’t be late tomorrow.”

Shiro nodded and Pidge waved as Keith made his way to the back exit. Lance startled them by grabbing his jacket too, “I’m just gonna head back home too. See you guys later. Hey Keith wait up!”

When the door was closed all the way Pidge mumbled, “Shiro, they are two of the dumbest people I have ever met.”

~~~

They convened in the backroom when the shop was closed. Pidge was the first to speak in an ominous voice, “Thank you all for meeting me here. We are here to-”

“Pidge cut it out, it’s creepy when you do that voice,” Hunk pulled out a chair and sat down in it, “What is this all about anyways? Where are Lance and Keith?”

“Well, if i weren’t so rudely interrupted,” Pidge shot him a glare, “You would know that we're here to talk about them.”

Shiro and Allura’s cafe was mostly dark now, the lights having been turned off to tell customers that they were no longer open. The place still smelled like freshly brewed coffee and tea though, which was calming. Allura placed a hand over Shiro’s on top of the table, “Go on Pidge.”

“Okay, firstly, we all know that we’re also those new paladins that have to save the world right?,” Pidge looked at the three others, “Right?”

Shiro blinked, “Oh… So we’re acknowledging it?”

“Yeah I thought we were just going for a ‘let’s just not get into it’ sorta thing,” Hunk added, “It took me a day to realize it. But when I did I was like ‘woahhh this is awesome. And crazy. But mostly awesome cause it’s you guys!’”

“Yeah it took us a week to figure it out,” Allura gestured to herself and Shiro.

Pidge still couldn't believe that it was true. Pidge had seen it from the moment they had all met up at the first battle. Their friend group had turned into a group of superhero fighters.

And people said that they couldn't possibly get closer.

At this point in their life, Pidge wasn't even surprised that it was them that got chosen to make up a weird ass team fighting for a weird ass cause. What Pidge was shocked about was the fact that not everyone immediately figured it out. Sure, Shiro, Hunk, and Allura didn't take that long to piece things together, but it still took a bit of time! To Pidge, the whole thing couldn't have been more obvious from the very start! Hell, Lance and Keith still had no fucking clue what was going on.

“It's literally a helmet. It's not super hard when you're not oblivious and stupid,” Shiro rolled his eyes, “these things don't even change our voices. And we're all friends, we've all basically memorized everyone's mannerisms.”

“Yep you would think that right,” Pidge deadpanned, “Now to the problem with all of this. Instead of complaining about just Keith, Lance complains about his alter ego as if they're two different people.”

“That's cause he thinks they are two different people!” Hunk cried out, “How?!”

Allura perked up, “Well if it helps, Keith still has no idea either.”

“They're just… a little… I don't know.” Shiro sighed, “Should we tell them?”

“No!” Pidge shouted, before coughing to compose themself, “This could Be fun. Don't ruin your kids fun Shiro.”

“I don't know Pidge,” the older male shook his head.

“But think about it. They should discover something like this themselves,” Pidge a smirk grew a little more, “Imagine their faces when they find out.”

“Mm,” Hunk put on a thoughtful look, “Terrified. I bet they'd be down right terrified.”

Shiro sighed, “Okay. But just because I think it'd be hilarious when they find out.”

“Oh I will be so disappointed if I miss it!” Pidge smiled, when something struck them, “That means that Lance hit on Keith technically when they first met as Red and Blue, which means that there was something that caught his eye at first glance.”

Shiro sighed and spoke quietly enough that Allura was the only one that heard, “I thought this was a meeting to talk about how oblivious they were to the whole paladins then. I didn’t know this was to address their refusal to acknowledge other things too.”

“Are you kidding me? Lance was like that when he first met Keith as Keith too,” Hunk shook his head.

Pidge and Shiro both shot him a look this time, puzzled. Pidge started to frantically wave their arms, a giant up to no good grin covering their entire face, “What! When!”

“Yeah, Keith told me that the first time Lance ever talked to him it was something about a rivalry and consisted of just screaming,” Shiro’s face was priceless, “he didn't stop complaining about it for hours!”

“Keith didn't remember it obviously since he didn't even remember Lance when they were looking at the apartment but Lance hit on him, like, the first day of school.”

“Wait seriously?”

Hunk put a finger to his chin, “Well I think it was more like Lance tried to when Keith turned around and it turned into ‘Did it hurt when- u-uh ah, y-you- pretty eyes… I mean. Hi! Hello, names Lance.’ He’ll deny it to hell and back though.”

“What did Keith say?” Pidge was up in his face now, face filled with amusement.

“He was just like,” Hunk put on the most annoyed looking face he could muster, “‘Keith.’ And then he turned back around.”

Allura smiled, “Oh i’m never letting him live this down.”

“Okay, but one more thing,” Shiro coughed, “What do we do about this… Nyma person?”

“Oh yeah, bad news,” Hunk shook his head, “Bad vibes everywhere.”

Pidge sighed, “But Lance thinks that she's his soulmate.”

“Well… I guess we're just going to have to see where it goes then,” Allura said firmly, “Give her a chance.”

~~~

Lance absentmindedly flipping through channels while Keith was on his phone. Homework was done and the clock read somewhere close to three am. He looked up when Lance snorted, “Tch. This show is so unrealistic.”

“Hm?” Keith looked at the screen, “Pokemon?”

“Yeah,” Lance pointed at the characters, “How do they not realize that’s team rocket? They see them like, every day. You’d think that they’d be able to tell.”

“Well, it is a kids show Lance,” Keith shrugged, yawning and clicking his phone off “Kids aren’t that smart, maybe they can’t tell.”

“You’d have to be a special brand of stupid to be that oblivious though,” Lance changed the channel.

“Yeah.” Came another yawn.

A few beats later Lance turned to see his friend’s sleepy looking eyes, trying to fight it. Lance smiled at the content look on Keith’s face once his eyes gave in and closed, “welcome home Keith.”

They fell asleep a little after that, curled up in blankets with the TV still on and empty takeout containers littering their botched up living room.

ech. Should I continue this or scrap it and redo it? I'm still super worried that I'm writing this completely wrong so lmk if I am lol.

Also this is only the first chapter and its like 36 pages (15,162 words) long. So I'm kinda worried about length. Future chapters will probably not be this long... eh. Probably, I have a tendency to over write things. BUT CONGRATS TO YOU, YOU MADE IT THROUGH 36 PAGES OF MY CRAP!

AGAIN if you wanna hmu for anything here on tumbr you can! Im currently taking prompts to distract me in between writing this when I need a break.

#klance #vld #SYAH #see you at home (fanfiction)#i hate tagging characters when its related to shipping things #penguin writes

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