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lumibuns-blog · 14 days ago

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Ghosty halloween fic <3

Going costume shopping with the densest man alive. This isn't part of my ghost x soaps roomie series, just a little something I did for spooks! This is also partially a spirit Halloween appreciation post bc it's goated.

In his defense, he didn’t really have any time to react; before he knew it, you were smacking at his forearm. No words were spoken as your mouth was currently preoccupied with the sugary sweet boba drink you had insisted on despite the weather in Manchester being near frigid, but he could tell that something had caught your attention from your excited squeals. He barely had time to turn his head in your direction before you had his hand in yours and were pulling him along behind you.

“The ‘ells gotten into ya?” He asked gruffly, though making no attempt to stop you

You chewed the boba as quickly as you could; swallowing harshly in your haste and forcing some of the milk drink down the wrong pipe, causing you to break into a coughing fit

“Hey, woah, slow down there, sweet’art yur’ gunna ‘urt yur’self” He swiftly removed his hand from yours and plucked the drink out of your hand; the large size looked tiny in his fists, The other hand moved to gently pat your back as you regained composure

“Mind tellin’ me what all a’ this shite’s about-”

You suddenly snapped up from the hunched over position you took while coughing and pointed out in front of you, “Look!” You practically had stars in your eyes with how excited you were, grabbing onto his sleeve in desperation.

“Wot…?” Simon turned in the direction you were pointing and only saw a line of storefronts—nothing special really.

“No look!” You dragged him closer to one of the storefronts specifically and pointed aggressively at the window; he just stared completely dumbfounded at what you were trying to show him.

“Do you even know what this is?” You asked exasperatedly

“Clearly not,” He answered plainly

“It’s a Spirit Halloween!” You look at him like you expected him to suddenly know what you were trying to say.

“The fuck’s a ‘Spirit Halloween’?” He looked down at you with his arms crossed over his chest and his brows knitted together

“You don’t know!?” you looked at him like he had gone mad

“Jus’ said I don’t.” he murmured from behind the mask

“Oh my god Si’ are you being for real right now?! This is like... the best store ever and-”

“No thats a tesco lovie” He said so plainly that if you hadn’t known him as well as you did, you wouldn’t have known he was joking. You just glared and scowled at him and how his eyes crinckled with a smirk hidden under his mask.

“Anddddd, I thought they were only in the states! I had no clue they were over here too!” You were practically jumping up and down with excitement, all the while keeping your death grip on his jacket sleeve.

"Cool.” he turned to continue on the route you had been taking back to your flat.

“Nuh uh!” you pulled him back

“Yuh huh” he looked back at you, unimpressed with your theatrics

“Please Simon!” You begged, and he should have known better than to keep eye contact with you when you hit him with those puppy eyes, but he wasn’t fast enough. How could he say no to that pouty little lip?

“Fine. But we’re jus’ lookin’ right love?” he allowed you to pull him inside the automatic doors

“Mhm!” you replied, already halfway in the door, and he could practically feel his wallet getting lighter as he crossed the threshold, but nothing was too expensive for his sweet girl.

He took one step into the dimly lit store, with hastily put together display racks, a variety of what seemed to be costumes, and...were those handcuffs?

“‘s this a fuckin’ pleasure shop?” he deadpanned and looked down at you

“What?! No! Its a costume store, like for Halloween!”

“Looks like someplace you’d find a fleshlight ‘er somethin’.”

“Ew! no stop," you smacked his forearm again “You’ve serviously never been to something like this?”

“Never really celebrated as a kid, the old man was never really into that shite.”

“Oh…” you suddenly felt bad for all your previous teasing, remembering Simon’s less than ideal childhood and how he had grown up. He never had the opportunity to go costume shopping with family and friends. So what better time to change that than now?

“Well then, I’ll just have to show you around!” You beamed, dragging him to the closest aisle.

That happened to be the part of the display with all the fake knives and things for peoples costumes

“Wot they sellin’ these for?” He asked, picking one up and making it seem miniscule in his grasp as he expertly flipped it around in his hand.

“Oh uh…” You tried not to stare at the little show he was putting on that was definitely on purpose, “ya know for like dressing up as murders and stuff.”

“Who would wanna dress up like Ted Bundy? thats fuckin’ borin'." he put the knife back and picked up a different one, inspecting it and flipping it all the same.

“No fake killers, ya know like Freddy Kruger?” you tried to grab the knife from him but he pulled it away from your grasp and you huffed in annoyance

“You tryna’ disarm me now,” he cocked one eyebrow

“No I’m trying to teach you about Halloween, you dork.” You were able to successfully pull the knife into your hands as he let you and as he turned his back to look at the machete that cought his eye. You attempted to playfully poke at his back with the fake knife. When you tried to make the first stab, however, his left hand flew out to grab the plastic blade of the knife, and his death grip kept it from moving any closer. You sighed in defeat as he hadn’t even turned around and was still looking at the packaging of another item in his other hand.

“Nice try,” he smirked

“Uhg, you’re no fun,” you teased “It’s not my fault your like a Marine or whatever the British equivalent of that is.”

He turned back to you, a loving and soft look in his eyes. “I’m an SAS soldier sweet’art”

"Yeah, yeah, close enough... OH!OH! look at those!” You pointed at some fake guns at one the wall, and you immediately ran over to them, and he followed like a dog, hopelessly in love with everything you did.

By the time he reached you, you had picked up a fake pistol and were comically squinting one eye as you pinted it towords one of the displays. “How’s my form?” you asked eagerly

Utter shit “Not bad,” he shrugged, looking over the weapons himself.

You began to make fake ‘pew pew’ sounds, and you moved from one decoration to another. He just smiled to himself, finding comfort in the fact that you weren’t familiar with combat; you didn’t know what real gunfire sounded like on the battle field or what it was like to see death close up. You were so innocent and soft, the opposite of him. If he could, he was going to do everything possible to keep it that way. So he saw no harm in having a little fun.

“How accurate are they?” You suddenly appeared next to him, and the larger, yet still very fake, rifles he had chosen looked at.

“They look like toys,” he laughed, picking it up and holding it up as he would a real weapon, squinting his eye just slightly and pressing it into the crevas of his shoulder. Making short and tight sweeping motions while looking hardened down the barrel. “‘S a little light,” he commented before lowering it to look at you.

You stood there completely motionless, your hands balled at your sides, your mouth slightly agape, and a red tint dusting over your cheeks. He had looked so fine when he got all serious like that; it was almost impossible for you to retain any composure while his eyes had the icy stare to them.

“S’mthin wrong?” he asked, a hint of understanding in his voice

“No no, nothing. Let's go look at something else!” You panicked and quickly pushed him towards the next section. That just so happened to be full of masks.

“Think it’s time for a switch-up babe,” you grinned “That skull mask is getting boring.”

“An’ whot would’ya ‘ave in mind?” He questioned, poking gently at your side.

“This!” you removed one of those fake rubber horse masks from the rack it was hanging on

“Absolutely not” He galred at the thing like it was trying to kill him

"Pleeeeeeease,” you begged him, standing up on your tippy-toes to try and wrestle the mask on his head

He caught both your wrists easily “Not happenin’ love.”

“Quit being a baby and wear the horse!”

“‘M not bein’ a fuckin’ baby.”

“Yes you are!” You pleaded, “I’ll give you a back massage when we get back!”

He stopped struggling for just a moment, clearly thinking it over. “you were gunna’ do that anyways” he grumbled

“Ugh, just-just-” you struggled

“Bloody hell,” he pinched his brow and dragged a hand over his face. “fuckin’ fine, give it 'ere,” he stretched out a hand. You giggled and quickly gave it to him, but he paused halfway through lifting it up.

“No pictures?”

“No pictures.”

He finally pulled the stupid mask on, and it was everything you hoped for and more. The stoic Simon “Ghost” Riley now had a realistic horsehead on top of his muscular frame; his forearms flexed as he crossed them over his chest.

“Happy?”

“Very much,” you beamed before sneaking a quick photo, which he immediately noticed

“Oye!” He took the mask and grabbed at your waist as you tried to scamper away. “Gunna be the death ‘o me ya know that?” he sighed before relinquishing his hold “Just don’t send it to Johnny; fuckin wanker won’t lemme’ hear the end of it,” he finished with a grumble.

“Already did”

“You-”

“Look over there!” You scurried off to go to another aisle, and he just huffed after you. It took you a couple moments of browsing to realize that your boyfriend wasn’t shadowing right behind you like he always was. You peeked your head around a couple of the aisles,

“Si?” you called out, slightly worried

"Sorry love, jus’ over ‘ere” he responded immediately

You made your way over to where he was standing, looking pensively at the very back wall. Your face began to heat up when you realized what he was looking at. You two were now standing in front of the section with all the “slutty” Halloween costumes. Tiny nurse outfits, a body suit with more holes than fabric that was supposed to be a bat, a short and tight cop jumpsuit, complete with handcuffs and everything, the whole nine yards.

“Thought you said this wasn’t one a them freaky stores?” he smirked

“Its not, these are just halloween costumes,” you explained

“Can’t be,” he commented, pointing to one of the costumes. “That poor slag’s practically got ‘er knockers out.”

“Well yeah, cause halloween is like the one night a year girls can dress like total sluts and get away with it,” You informed him

“‘S that right?” he asked, acting as if this was some new kind of information “You gunna’ dress ‘like a slut’?” he purposely put the last part in air quotes

“Maybe,” you blushed. “I haven’t decided.”

You began to rifle through the racks as he huffed out through his nose. You pulled out a playboy bunny costume, complete with large ears, fishnet tights, and little cuffs.

“What about this?” you teased, holding it up to him

You watched as he stiffened and he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. The longer he looked at it, the more feeble his attempts at adjusting himself in his pants became.

"Sure,” he cleared his throat, “but that things not seein’ the outside ‘a the flat after this." He loved and trusted you deeply, but the idea of letting you walk around downtown in that? Not knowing what kinda freaks there were out there, especially if he wasn’t there with you? Yeah, not happening.

To his surprise, you just chimed, “That’s fine, was going to wear something like this out anyway.” you held up a black onsie covered in a skeleton design with a skull on the hood that ended in small shorts

‘Cute’ was all he could think

“Wait then wots ‘hat one for?” He pointed back at the playboy bunny costume you held in your other hand.

“Oh, ya know...like,” you mummbled nervously, “like you said...for at home." You felt your face begin to heat up

“Oh.” That was really all the confirmation he needed to begin dragging you to the checkout, wanting to get home as quickly as possible.

“Wait, hold on, we didn’t get anything for you!” you exclaimed

“What the ‘ell would I get?” he asked

“A ghost face mask,” you grinned mischeviously

“A wot?”

“Ghost face mask,” you pointed to the display of white masks and accompanying black robes

“M’ already ghost face,” he stated plainly, looking down his nose at you

"No, like the character!” you tried to explain, exasperatedly

“Ya’ got the real thing,” he smirked, maneuvering you back towards the checkout, “even better.”

“It’s different!” You whine, not fighting the large hands guiding your shoulders, “We really need to get you to watch more horror movies.”

"Fine,” he grumbled, “but after.”

“After what?”

He looked down to see you feigning ignorance, squinting your eyes as you looked at him with that teasing smirk.

‘You’re lucky I love you.’

Tags: @sleep101@urbimom@noisydelusionlove@plk-18 @pinkyfqiry @wwe1rdc0re@vmaxis@jenlvr01@lovelovelovelovelove987654321@ifsunmibts@callmeluno@nina-from-317@strawberrygateau@leryg0@weemansoap@dreamtofus@imjustheretofightforlove @electricmentalitypersona @castellomargot @foxintheferns @weallhaveadestiny @identity2212 @trashitytrashtrash @glitteryarcadefart@thepowers-kat-be @xi1dius @idkhowbutifoundyou @lostintransist @imhungry675 @ravenpoe67 @night-girl-301 @gsvgs

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hodari-pavels-good-boy · 19 days ago

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Espresso Chapter 2:

Heat Stroke

Ch1 Ch2 Ch3

Pairing: Hodari Pavel x Reader Word Count: 5.6k Chapter: 2/? Rating: E

Tags: Angst, Angst with a happy ending, miscommunication, fluff, eventual smut

A/N: This is a multi chapter Hodari x y/n story! Gender is not specified so everyone can enjoy it (though I did originally start writing it with the intention of it being a male reader lol). Tags will be updated as the fic goes. Cross-posted Here on Ao3. Fic below the cut! Enjoy :)

Hodari POV

The sun beats heavily off the stones, heat rising from the ground and into his boots as Hodari makes his way down the well-traveled path that connects the bay to the village. Raising his hand to his brow to shield his eyes from the brutal light, he debates going to the inn first before ultimately deciding to finish his work as quickly as possible to get it done and over with.

His first stop is, as always, to the town's resident blacksmith. “Hodari!” she calls from inside, raising her hand in greeting when she sees him approach. She lays her hammer down and wipes the sweat from her face as he enters the forge with her order of iron in tow. “It’s a scorcher out here today isn’t it?” she laughs as she takes the metal from him and he hums his assent. He watches as she takes it to her backroom and out of the way before turning back to him. “Oh! I’m not going to be needing my order tomorrow, so don’t worry about making the trip into town for me.”

He nods in acknowledgement, ‘saves me a trip tomorrow then’ he thinks before Sifuu starts speaking again. “That human that's decided to stick around, y/n, brought me some extra this morning and I won’t be able to fit anymore back there between their drop off and your delivery today. I’m all full up!” She laughs, reaching for her hammer to continue working.

“It’s no problem then. Frees up a mornin’ for me. Maybe I’ll sleep in for once.” and they both share a chuckle at how unlikely they both know that to be before Hodari says his good-byes.

Just as he’s about to head out Sifuu calls from behind her anvil, “You still coming to the inn this weekend? We are all planning on grabbing some lunch and taking a much needed break. It’s supposed to be even hotter, but that ain’t nothing a little ale and some good company can’t beat!” She laughs. “You can bring your girl to the tailor’s. Word down the vine is Jel’s been working on something for her as a little surprise since the last time she came into town to visit him and Tish, it’ll be good for the two of you to get out and socialize a bit. The mine’s can stay empty for half a day.” She says the last half just a little more serious and Hodari wonders how long she’s been holding it in as she’s not exactly known for her subtlety.

Hodari thinks about it seriously for a moment before nodding his head. She’s right, it’ll be good for Najuma to get away from the shop and have some actual social interaction every once in a while. “I’ll be there, don’t worry. It’ll be good catchin’ up while we all complain about how old we’re gettin’.” he chuckles before finally taking his leave to the sound of Sifuu’s booming laughter behind him.

His next stop is the Daiya’s farm to drop off a bit of iron Badruu had requested from him for some ‘repairs I can’t put off any more.’ Heading over the bridge and down the path a ways, he waves as the farmer comes into sight.

“Well howdy!” Badruu greets him as he walks up to the gate. “Got something for little ol’ me there?” He asks as he removes his hat to fan himself with it.

“Hot out here today, huh?” he comments, taking the metal Hodari hands over to him.

“That seems to be the general consensus.” Hodari agrees. “Crops are lookin’ good. See ya got some new ones sewn out the back there. Zeki finally lower his prices?” the miner huffs.

“Oh no,” the farmer rolls his eyes, “sky high as ever. But y/n brought some late last week as a thank you for the jam Delaila sent them home with. Awfully nice of ‘em don’t you think? They seem to be settling in here quite well. Have you had a chance to really talk with them yet?”

Hodari just hums but shakes his head, he hasn’t spoken to you at all since that night in the mines. You never stop to talk while he’s in town so he’s a little surprised at this new information. “Nah. ‘m not one for chattin’ much anyways. See 'em comin’ and goin’ from the mines at all kinds of unholy hours though. Sometimes they're still down there when I get there the next mornin’” ‘At least they’re making an effort to fit in’ he thinks as he remembers your little conversation about feeling out of place before he decides to change the topic. “How is Delaila doin’ anyways? Haven’t seen her or your boys recently, we’ve all been so busy.”

The famer laughs, “Tell me about it.” Before launching into what his family has been up to. He’s a family man at heart and Hodari has always respected that about him, it’s no secret the man gave up his dream path to settle down here to create what he has now. While he always knew he was going to be a miner, he understands the hard choices and sometimes sacrifices one makes for their loved ones. Looking at the farmer beam as he talks about how proud he is of his boys though, Hodari finds it hard to believe the man would have it any other way if given another chance. It makes his chest ache a bit as his friend talks about how he plans to surprise his wife with a nice date he’s been setting money aside for. She’ll love it he's sure, Delaila’s a hardworking woman and a spitfire in her own right, always keeping them on their toes. She deserves something nice.

After a few more minutes of catching up, the two men say their good-byes as they head off to continue their respective work, Hodari is sure to pass on that he’ll be at the inn this weekend so they can catch up a bit later before he starts heading back into the village. With no more orders to make, he heads straight for the inn for some lunch and to get out of the heat. He almost crashes into Auni as the kid rushes past, giant backpack too big for his small frame bouncing behind him, eager to get to his daily game of cards with Hassian behind the building. “Sorry Mr. Pavel!” he calls over his shoulder, not slowing down in the slightest and Hodari huffs out an amused breath. Najuma always seems to be in a rush too, no time to slow down for these kids.

Entering the inn has Hodari internally sighing as he gets out of the searing heat. Reth is behind the kitchen counter, already prepping his usual. He gives the kid a nod in greeting before walking over to greet Ashura who seems to be engrossed by something behind his own counter. As he gets closer, he can see the slice of pie the innkeeper is holding.

“Got yourself somethin’ sweet there?” Hodari asks as he watches the larger man go to take a bite. Ashura turns around laughing to greet the man as he sets the plate down.

��Can’t say no to a good slice of pie.” the older man rumbled. “Y/n baked it and dropped a fresh slice in for me and Reth. They really seem to be finding their place here after all these months. Can’t say I’m too upset with all the baked goods they’ve been dropping off in various attempts at cooking, especially recently. They’ve been catching on to how things work around here pretty quick.”

“So I've heard. Both Sifuu and Badruu were singing their praise when I stopped by. I’m-” Hodari stops when he hears Reth set his food out on the counter. He grabs his food and both men go take a seat, conversation about the new local human set aside.

Hodari starts eating his lunch and after awhile of enjoying one another's company in silence, Ashura asks how Najuma is doing. He sighs as he sets his fork down, leaning back in his chair. “I don’t know. She seems madder’n not these days and I don’t know what to do.” Ashura nods sympathetically as he talks. “It’s been harder to talk to her lately and you know I ain't exactly a beacon of open conversation myself. Just tryin’ to figure it out as I go along, I guess.”

Ashura shares in his worries over lunch and offers some advice from one father to another about angry teengers and the frustrations of parenting in general. By the time he’s leaving to head home, he feels a little lighter. He stayed longer than usual to avoid the sun's brutal attack at the peak of the day but as he faces the long trek home, he realizes that just means another long night in the mines and he has to bite back a groan. At least he doest have to make the trip out here for Sifuu tomorrow.

As he walks through town, he plays the conversations he’s had today over in his mind. So many things have changed since he first moved here, young and leaving behind his family to start his own. He passes the Daiya’s eldest son and raises his hand in greeting, ‘That kid has grown up so fast.’ he thinks. ‘They all have.’ When he moved out here with Leta all those years ago, he never quite pictured this would be his life now and wonders how she would feel about all the changes that have happened, especially recently with humans appearing out of thin air. Probably handle it a whole lot better than him, he’s never been one for change if he can help it. He wonders how she’d feel about the human that’s stuck around, everyone else seems to enjoy your company. She’d probably tell him to be nice and welcome you like everyone else has and he smiles at the thought of her standing there arms crossed calling him a grump and telling him to get over himself. A bit of a reminder that even as the world changes, some things would absolutely stay the same.

Soon enough, his wandering thoughts have led him to the gate that connects to the bay. The sun still shines bright and he figures he should probably make sure his daughter is staying cool and drinking water. He makes his way towards the pond, getting ready to call her over but stops when he realizes she isn’t there. A look up the hill shows that she’s not in the workshop either. Taking a sigh, he turns and heads towards the house. ‘She better not be in those damn mines again’ he thinks as he's pushing open the door to grab what he’ll need to go after her.

As soon as he opens the door though, he spots his daughter sitting on the couch with a whole blueberry pie in hand, getting ready to dig into it.

“Najuma, just what in the hell are you doing?” He asks, fumbling in his thoughts. He was sure she was causing trouble and trying to put him in an early grave with worry. Now he’s just confused where she got a pie. He knows he didn't pick one up and she hasn't shown any interest in baking, much less ventured all the way into town to get any of what she’d need for it.

Najuma freezes, caught red handed as she holds the forkfull of pie halfway to her mouth. “I wasn't gonna eat it all at once!” She immediately tries to defend herself.

“No. I-” He stops, collecting his thoughts, “One, where’d you get that? And two, why did you not put it on a plate?” He says grabbing the pie from her and walking into the kitchen to cut it. She follows behind him, eager for the treat before she gets back to work and she answers him as he reaches into the cupboard for a plate.

“Oh y/n brought it by! They said that I’ve been working so hard I deserve a snack!” She smiles as she takes the plate from him and sits down at the table this time, already taking a bite.

He shakes his head, leaning against the counter as he watches how she devours the slice of pie in front of him and feels a little pang as he realizes how much bigger she's gotten. Despite her small size, she's growing up so fast and he wishes he could freeze time for just a little bit. She’s already in her teens now and his back aches more at the thought. Soon she’ll be all grown up. For now, they're just a bit of a mess as they try to figure it out. He finds himself wishing again that Leta were here to help him and resigns himself to the fact it’s just going to be one of those days full of wanting and nostalgia. ‘Want in one hand’ and all that..

Pushing off from the counter he walks over and ruffles his daughter's hair, giving her a quick kiss on the top of her fiery head as he goes. “Daaaad.” She complains as he walks towards the door, chuckling. He reminds her only the one piece before dinner so she doesn't spoil her appetite before he’s out the door and heading towards the mines. During his walk he thinks about Najuma telling him you had been the one to bring the pie by. He’s confused why you would be coming all the way out here to talk to his daughter when he hardly sees you himself, much less have any sort of regular conversation with you. It makes a flare of protectiveness rise in his gut, he’s not sure he wants Najuma around a stranger. He decides he should think it over a bit more before deciding anything right now, you seem nice enough and while your only real conversation had been a bit awkward, no harm was done. Wanting to clear his mind of it for now, he heads into the mines, determined to make up for the bit of lost time today.

The next morning while making breakfast, he realizes he forgot to stop by the general store yesterday before coming home. ‘So much for not headin’ into town.’ he thinks bitterly as he sets the food between him and his daughter, letting her know he forgot some things yesterday and asking if she needed anything while he was there. He writes down what she needs and lets her know he won’t be staying in town today. After they finish breakfast he heads right out, itching to get there and get home.

Wasting no time, he heads straight to Zeki’s as soon as he enters the village. He grabs the things he needs for the house and Najuma before he heads over to the register, greeting the owner of the shop. After a bit of small talk, Hodari decides he should ask the other man what he thinks about the human.

“Ain’t too close to them, to be honest but they seem decent enough.” he shrugs. “Rest of the town seems to like them, even Eshe seems to be warming up to them, albeit begrudgingly” he laughs. Hodari nods along as he is given the information to process. “You know me though,” the other continues, “I don’t make it a habit of trustin’ people, especially people I don’t know. It’s a crazy world out there. Their gold spends as good as anyone else’s though!” he finishes with a wink and Hodari just shakes his head as he pays for his goods. They say their good-byes and Hodari promises to pass along a hello to Najuma for him before he takes his leave.

As he’s walking out of the store he spots you leaving the inn and waving a good-bye to the cook from the doorway. He watches for a moment as you smile and greet the youngest Daiya boy and Elouisa on your way back to your home plot. He wonders briefly what it looks like now since he’s last seen it the first day you appeared here. As you round the corner and out of his sight, he starts on his own way home.

He takes the opportunity on the walk back to mull over the things Zeki told him while the conversation is still fresh in his mind. He thinks the grimilkin may be right, you’re basically a stranger and he doesn't know you very well. You seem nice enough, and clearly your presence is enjoyed and welcomed by many in the village, but he's gotta keep his family in mind and Najuma’s wellbeing takes precedence. It doesn’t help that he’s still uncomfortable with the idea that a human has been around his daughter alone and presumably in his house and he’s been none the wiser to it. Friendly or not, the two of you haven’t even spoken since the night he stayed late in the mines so it would probably be best if he put a stop to whatever is going on, at least while he’s not around. Just for now. It wouldn’t hurt Najuma to socialize more, but he’s not sure this is how he wants that to happen.

After getting home he puts away the items and goes to hunt Najuma down in the workshop, letting her know the things she wanted were waiting for her on the kitchen table whenever she needed them.

“It’s gonna be a late night for me t’night. Don’t wait for me for dinner, there’s leftovers in the icebox for ya. Don’t forget to eat, ya hear me?” He calls from outside the shop. Once he hears a quiet muttering of ‘yeah yeah’ in acknowledgement he turns and starts his walk to the mines. He figures tonight is as good a night as any to talk to you when you make your way down. ‘Doesn’t need to be a big deal’, he reasons with himself, ‘place a few boundaries. No harm no foul.’

Without Hodari realizing it, hours have passed since he’s been down here and he picks up his things to head closer to the entrance of the mines to wait for you. A brief look outside tells him that the sun has long since finished its march across the sky, Luna and Ignis have risen, and he can hear the crickets begin their nightly songs. As he watches the lantern bugs flit about amongst the grass and trees he starts to worry you won’t actually show tonight and he’s stayed out this late for no reason. But like clockwork, the tell tale sound of the crunching gravel beneath shoes moves towards the mine entrance and he knows it can’t possibly be anyone else but you coming down here so late.

You wave to him, offering a quick ‘hello!’ as soon as you see him standing at the entrance. He raises his hand in greeting back, taking a deep breath. You’re already smiling in front of him and he finds himself inexplicably worried he might hurt your feelings. You don’t look like you mean any harm but he can’t trust you, not yet.

“Another late night? You’re not usually down here still at this time, shouldn’t you be home having dinner with Najuma?” You ask, curious. He watches as you pull your pack off to get your own supplies out.

“Yeah about that. Got something I wanna talk t’ya about.” He begins. You hum in acknowledgement of the statement while you continue to sort through your pack.

“Yeah? What’s up?” You ask and Hodari finds himself fumbling a bit at the relaxed ease in your tone, talking to him as though you were friends or at the very least friendly acquaintances and not practically strangers.

“It’s about Najuma. I-”

“Is she okay?” you cut him off, sounding concerned and he feels a flare of annoyance. It’s not your job to be concerned.

“Well if ya let me finish,” he starts again a bit more gruff, “She’s fine. What I want to talk about is how much you’ve been hangin’ around her. I know ya don’t mean any harm, but I don’t see much of a reason for you to be headin’ all the way out here just to talk to her. Especially when I’m not around, it just don’t sit right with me.” He watches as the words sink in, and your face changes from concerned to confused, and finally to hurt.

“I-” you begin but he holds out his hand to stop you.

“It’s nothing personal. But we- I don’t know you and if anything happened to her… well it doesn't bear thinkin’ about. I just can’t take that chance, ya understand?” He waits until you nod in agreement before continuing, “Good. Glad we’re on the same page then.” He reaches down and grabs his pick off the ground before resting his hand on your shoulder. “Okay then, you have a good rest of your night.”

He hears a quiet ‘you too’ as he starts to walk away, a lighter step in his gait. That went surprisingly well all things considered. He faltered at the thought of the hurt in your eyes but you’ll get over it, it's for the best to leave things as they are for now. As he walks away he doesn’t notice the sounds of mining dont carry up the hills as they normally do.

A few days have passed and the weekend draws near. At breakfast Najuma is quietly picking at her food and Hodari lets her know they'll both be going into town tomorrow. Instead of the incoming complaints he was expecting she seemed to perk up at the news.

“Do you think we’ll see y/n in town?” she rushes out, her eyes wide as she looks at him. It takes him aback at her intensity.

“I.. don’t know.” he answers slowly. “Why?”

She sits back in her chair a little dejected. “I haven’t seen them around lately. It’s been a few days and..” her voice drops down to almost a whisper. “..I miss them.” She looks back up at him, “Have you seen them around?”

“No, I haven't.” He answers honestly, but carefully. He doesn’t plan on telling her he spoke to you about not coming around if he’s not here too. But truth be told, he hasn’t seen you at all. Not in town this week or down by the mines.

Najuma resumes poking at her breakfast and Hodari has to bite back the comment of not playing with her food, recognizing that if he says anything now it would most likely spawn another argument and he’d much rather have a tension free day when he can help it. Not looking up from her plate she mumbles “What if they left too? Like all the other humans? What if they didn't say goodbye?” his daughter looks almost on the verge of tears at the thought and his chest tightens. He hadn't realized she felt so attached to the human already.

He thinks for a moment wondering if that may have happened but no, you couldn’t have moved on. He had just heard both Sifuu and Reth talking about how helpful you’ve been just yesterday while he was in town. He tells Najuma as such and it seems like some of the weight has been lifted from her tiny shoulders. “I hope so.. Y/n is the only one who talks to me like an actual person! They even started to bring me iron from the mine for my projects after they found out you won't let me in there!” She huffs a tad indignant at the self reminder that he won’t let her in the mines with him.

Hodari feels a bit of guilt listening to Najuma talk about missing you. He hadn’t realized that his daughter had apparently grown so fond of you so quickly. Taking an appeasing route, “Maybe they’re just busy. Remember y/n had to start everythin’ from scratch and that takes time.” Najuma just hums, unsatisfied in the answer. “When did you two start becomin’ close anyway Juma? I didn’t even know they were visiting until a few days ago.” He says finally taking a bite of his own food hoping to encourage his daughter to do the same.

His daughter looks at him like he just sprouted another head. Not raising to the bait, he raises an eyebrow waiting for her to answer. Still looking at him confused she begins, “A few months ago, Dad. Y/n got lost looking for Hassian’s grove and ended up here. They saw me and asked for directions, remember? You were in the workshop.” Hodari sets his fork down to focus on what his daughter is saying because, in fact, he doesn’t remember that. She continues without missing a beat, speaking a mile a minute now as she recounts the day she first met you. “I gave them the directions so they wouldn’t bother you and went back to working on my sketch as I waited for them to leave but they didn’t. They asked me what I was working on and said it looked cool! None of the humans had said that to me before!” She was smiling and excited now as she talks. “Then they told me I must be ‘One hell of an inventor’ because I ‘sure have a knack for it’ because they couldn't understand any of it but said it looked ‘awesome’! I told them I couldn't finish it because you wouldn’t let me in the mines and-”

“I would have brought you some iron if you had just asked me Juma..” Hodari interrupts her, already tired from knowing where this road could lead.

“It’s not the same! Anyway you were really busy with that huge order for Bahari City so I couldn’t ask you even if I wanted to, I knew you didn’t have the time. But you’ll never believe it! They said you were right! And that the mines are dangerous and I shouldn’t go in them!” She throws her hands up dramatically and Hodari has to fight down the smile at the action. “Then later in the afternoon when we were both in the workshop they dropped off some iron for both of us, remember? Y/n told me they couldn’t wait to see it all finished and were happy to be a “patron of the arts” whatever that means.”

Najuma is looking at him expectantly and he wracks his brain trying to remember any of that. He remembers the Bahari City order, took him days to complete. Honestly he doesn’t remember much else, he wasn't sleepin’ too much during it. Eventually he nods his head, “yeah yeah I kinda remember that.” Najuma looks at him skeptically, like she doesn't believe a word of it but he ignores it as he takes another bite of his food.

“Yeah well, that’s pretty much it. Y/n would come into the bay to forage and mine and when they started home they would ask me if you or I needed anything they had picked up. Which was a little awkward at first, and kinda overwhelming but they were just trying to be nice! Eventually y/n just started stopping by the house to ask what we needed and would go out and get it while they got the things they needed, it was super helpful!”

Hodari sits there and listens as Najuma goes on to tell him how cool it was to have an adult think that she was cool and smart. He wanted to interrupt her and tell her he thinks she's cool and smart but the words catch in his throat as she continues filling him in on all he’s missed. How annoying it was that you had agreed with him but then told her she was so smart that she’ll invent a way to make mining safer in no time and that you believed in her. He feels his stomach drop the longer she talks, you had been keeping his daughter safe and giving her all the confidence in herself he’d been trying so hard to instill in her. He’s still a little concerned he didn’t know it was happening and tries to find a way to say it without coming across as the bad guy. ‘A little late for that’ his mind unhelpfully supplies.

But Najuma always has been smart as a whip and catches on quick. “I’m not surprised you didn’t notice, Dad. You’re always so busy you don’t notice a lot of things even when they’re happening right in front of you. We didn't want to bug you so we just tried to stay out of your way when we were all in the shop.” Hodari almost wants to feel insulted as goes to say he isn’t that oblivious while he’s working when she suddenly goes very serious across the table from him.

“Wait.. If you didn’t notice how often y/n was here, even when you were in the same room with us, have you not thanked them for all the gifts they’ve been bringing us since the beginning? Not even the ones they’ve brought just for you?” She asks, horrified. The sinking feeling in his stomach turns to solid lead at the question. “Really Dad? None of the extra ores? Or all the fresh meat? Not even the ugly antlers you’d been wanting? I didn’t even mean to tell them about those but as soon as I mentioned them, they brought them with the meat that evening!” She says exasperated.

Truth be told he didn't notice the extra ores were a gift, he thought he was the one who placed them there and forgot or assumed Najuma had been messing with them late at night and really hadn't thought too much of it past that. The meat and antlers though.. “I thought Sifuu’s boy had been bringing them by.” He answered honestly, a little rattled.

Najuma shakes her head unaware of her father's internal struggle, finally shoveling another bite in her mouth and opens her mouth to start talking again. This time Hodari did interrupt her to tell her to not speak with her mouth full. She swallows before starting again. “Nope!” She says popping the ‘P’ at the end. “Y/n has been dropping off fresh meat and even whole meals for us sometimes. They said something about how they know you're always busy in the mines and I'm a growing girl. They also told me they always make too much and have extra and giving it to us is a win-win for all of us because it won't go bad and that it's one less thing we have to worry about too.” She says it very matter of factly but Hodari knows that's not how it works. You don't just make “extra” enough to feed 3 people a whole meal. You had been going out of your way to cook for them so Najuma had lunch he didn’t have to make for her and he never even noticed.

“But dad, don't tell them I said this” she whispers conspiratorially, grabbing his attention again. “I think they go hunting just to bring us fresh meat when they're out here.” She stops to eat her breakfast before it gets completely cold while Hodari thinks about just how bad he’s just fucked up.

She shovels the last of her food in her mouth before turning her gaze to her dad, “Y/n’s really nice, you should probably thank them when you see them next so they don't get the wrong idea and think we don’t want them here.” And wasn't that just salt in a wound that’s already festering. Meanwhile Najuma carries on, no idea what her father had told you a few days ago. “Maybe that's why they stopped coming by, it's really rude to not say thank you and they'd been doing it for months.” She looks out the window and sighs, “I don't want them to think we don't like them and not come back, Dad. I want to show them my new ideas!”

She turns back to her father, “I know you haven’t seen them but if you do when we are in town tomorrow can you tell them I want to show them my newest idea if they have time to come by. Oh! And you can ask if they want to have dinner with us! They haven't tasted your cooking yet, we can have corn! Please?”

His throat is dry as he tells her “Sure, Juma.” before sending her to go wash up before she inevitably finds her way outside to dirty herself up all over again. As soon as she’s out of sight he puts his head in his hands. He didn’t know any of that was happening and that his daughter had grown so close to you. Much less that you had been going so far out of your way to be so kind to his little family. The look of hurt in your eyes flashes through his mind as he called you a stranger and said he couldn't trust you around Najuma and he drags a hand down his face in hopes to wipe the image out of his mind’s eye.

How in the hell was he gonna fix this?

[Dividers by the-aesthetic-shop]

#hodari pavel #hodari palia #hodari x reader #hodari x male reader #hodari pavel x reader #hodari pavel x male reader #reader insert #cain writes #espresso

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actuallysaiyan · 8 months ago

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I Still Want You Around(Part II)

The Peeping Rōnin(Part II)

warnings: mentions of smoking, drinking, partying, mentions of a loss of a loved one, insinuations of spying pairings: Nanami Kento x Fem!OC taglist: @beneathstarryskies @seireiteihellbutterfly summary: With the party planned for the new manager, the new tenants begin to wonder what he'll do to help fix up the old house. Kimiko makes Kento believe terrible things about our poor Rōnin. The party begins, leaving poor Karin nowhere to go as they take control of her room. Kento confesses something to Karin, making her realize they are more alike than previously thought. Kindred spirits, perhaps. a/n: I'll be using some Japanese terms here and there within this fic, but nothing crazy. Chabudai= short-legged table used in traditional Japanese homes. Rōnin= A masterless Samurai, unemployed salaryman or a secondary school graduate who has not yet been admitted to university.

Masterlist

The next morning, Kento and the movers are at the old boarding house. Despite the fact that the movers are there to help Kento move the heavier things into the house, he’s still out there with them. Karin sits in the doorway of her room, watching as the movers lug heavy furniture into the manager’s room. Her eyes nearly bulge out of her skull when she sees Kento. He’s got his sleeves unbuttoned and pushed up, showing off veiny and muscular forearms. His chest is puffed out a little too, and Karin’s jaw nearly drops when she notices he’s got a few buttons opened there too. A small amount of chest hair is visible, and she feels her heart stop when she sees a bead of sweat get swallowed up by the hair.

“Eyeballin’ the new manager, huh?” Kimiko teases, elbowing her in the side.

Karin grips her side, “Ow! No! What the hell?”

But there was no denying it. The man was gorgeous, how could she not sneak a peek? Especially when he was working just as hard, if not harder, than the movers themselves. He’s an impressive man, that’s for sure. But his looks were sublime. The man looked like a Greek god, an ADONIS! There wasn’t anything that could make Karin think otherwise.

“Ah don’t be shy,” Kimiko whispers in Karin’s ear. “He’s pretty damn good lookin’!”

Karin whips around to face her red-headed neighbor, “What the hell? That’s our new manager!”

Just in that instant, Kento is passing by with a heavy looking box. He looks at both women, his brows furrowed a little. Karin wishes she could just be swallowed whole by the ground. Kimiko laughs, pushing over Karin. Karin squeals as she falls nearly in front of Kento, who’s trying not to laugh at the entire interaction.

“Sorry! Sorry! Didn’t mean to,” Karin says, dusting herself off and returning to her room.

How embarrassing! He really must think she’s an idiot.

“Good going, Karin! Way to really fall on your knees!” Kimiko says, chuckling as she leaves the room.

The minute some of the other movers come in, she’s quickly flirting with them. Karin scoffs at Kimiko’s feminine wiles. She feels so plain Jane compared to Kimiko. Ever since she moved here, she wondered if she could even compare to the redheaded woman. Karin never felt like she was someone special to begin with, so seeing someone with such sex appeal just oozing from her, it made her nervous.

Karin settles in her room, sitting at her desk. It’s such a nice day out, and yet she’s confined to her room. There’s a rustling sound coming from the closet and soon Mr. Ide is poking his head from his usual spot in the hole in the closet that connects their two rooms. He’s resting his head on his hands, a big smirk on his face.

“So, young Karin, are you ready for the party tonight?” he asks, looking right at her.

“As long as it doesn’t require being in my room, then yeah sure.”

Mr. Ide smirks even wider, bringing his hands together and rubbing them together. He’s plotting for this to happen exactly as the young woman explains against it. There’s nothing he enjoys more than to torment Karin to no end.

“Your room, you say? How generous of you to offer this to us!”

Karin grumbles and finally turns to the man. She’s got her pencil gripped so tightly in her fist, it looks like it may snap. Eraser dustings fly up into the air, polluting the room even more than before. Mr. Ide narrows his eyes playfully, watching her reaction.

“No! No no no! Not my room, I just said that!”

Mr. Ide, “Your room? Your room, you said?”

She cries out, snapping her pencil. She shoves it aside, and grabs another one from the desk. Karin is exasperated, desperate to try and study even more. Mr. Ide slides into the room even closer, and he pokes her cheek. She turns away violently, growling something angry under her breath before getting up.

“How am I supposed to get any studying done around here?!”

She stomps towards the doorway, slamming it behind her. She watches as Kento brings more boxes into his room, stopping to take a break. He smiles at her sweetly, then approaches her after he’s set the last box down into her room.

“I’ve heard that…you have trouble getting into college. Is that true?” Kento asks her, trying to make conversation.

Her cheeks burn and she looks down at her feet, “Uh…well…yes.”

She wished even more so that the floor would swallow her up. Kento waves at her before heading outside to assess the situation of what the front entrance looks like. He picks up a broom and begins sweeping, cleaning up the sidewalk and the walkway into the home. There’s a lot of work to be done around this place. The last manager didn’t really do a good job at keeping the place fixed up and clean, but Kento isn’t a stranger to hard work. He’s got his hands full, but he’s going to work hard and work proudly.

A loud commotion is heard from outside and Karin ducks her head outside the door to see Sei coming in. He stops at the front door, noticing the new animal that’s gracing the yard. Sei exclaims loudly as the dog pokes her nose out and begins licking the child’s face. Sei squeals softly.

“MOOOM!” Everyone comes rushing at the sound of this, noticing Sei and the dog happily getting along.

“Phew, and I thought you were dangerously hurt.” Mrs. Orito says, lighting up her cigarette as she sits on the porch.

Kimiko smirks, “Oh, so you’re a dog kind of guy.”

Kento steps over to the dog and rubs her ears, making the dog whine happily. He then smiles at the residents of the house. He was hoping that they wouldn’t have an issue with the dog, seeing as he was not about to part without Hinata. Hinata had been his best friend for some time now.

“This is my dog, Hinata.”

Mrs. Orito laughs, “Hinata? Ain’t that a name for a woman?”

Kento smiles down at the dog, “Exactly.”

Eventually, Mrs. Orito brings Sei inside after she’s done with her cigarette. Mr. Ide and Kimiko head back inside. Kento continues to sweep outside, leaving Karin feeling a bit dejected by all of this. With the new manager and everyone just teasing her, how else is she supposed to feel? She heads back inside, hoping that Mr. Ide would just leave her alone.

Kento enters the house once more after he’s done sweeping the entryway. Kimiko waits for him just outside the manager’s room. She’s got a trick up her sleeve, so she puts on her cutest pout. Kento smiles politely to her, and she beckons him closer.

“You know, there’s something I’ve been meaning to talk to you about. I had mentioned it to the last manager, but he hasn’t been around in a long while,” Kimiko begins.

Kento nods, “Of course. I’m the manager now. You can tell me anything.”

With Karin watching them from her room doorway, Kimiko makes a move. She leans in closer, grabbing his hand gently and then reaching up on her tiptoes to be able to whisper something in his ear. Karin grumbles as she watches the scene before her. She’s green with envy.

“A peeping Tom? Er…peeping Tammy? Really?” Kento inquires, his stomach flipping with anxiety from the knowledge he’s just received.

Kimiko nods, “Yes, let me show you.”

She grabs him by the wrist, pulling him towards Karin’s room. Kimiko pushes Karin out of the way, claiming her to be a spy. Kento carefully assesses the situation, wondering when to intervene when it comes to these two young women. They seem to be mostly friendly towards one another, but if the situation from earlier should define anything, he has his doubts about what Kimiko has to say and figures she must love to gossip.

“See? Here’s the hole!” Kimiko announces, her finger pointed at the poorly patched hole in the wall.

Karin looks away, ashamed of what she’s being accused of. This isn’t exactly the best first impression for the young rōnin to make. Kento steps closer to the whole, inspecting it further. There was no disputing this; it was a poorly patched hole.

“I swear it wasn’t me who made it!” Karin cries out, her head in her hands.

Kimiko pokes her in the chest, “Oh yeah?! Then who did? Rodents?”

Kento begins pulling the boards off, noting that he’ll have to do a bit of patchwork. But it would probably only take him the better part of the afternoon. It wasn’t anything he couldn’t fix. He finally looks back at the two young women, hoping for more of an explanation than he just got.

“Can’t you see how it’s coming from the other side?!” Karin exclaims, hoping to get the blame shifted to Mr. Ide.

Kimiko and Kento exchange a glance, and he then begins to think about who’s on the other side of the wall. A shiver runs down his spine. Already he thinks Karin is pretty cute, but he didn’t want to believe that one of his tenants was a pervert. He looks at her, eyebrow cocked.

“Isn’t…doesn’t that mean…” He begins, unable to finish his question.

Karin throws her hands up in defeat and walks back over to her desk. She sits down, unable to even answer that insinuation. Kento sighs, making his way back to his room. He’s got the tools and materials to fix up the holes in the wall. Maybe he’ll just choose to ignore the situation and not think about how this makes Karin look right now.

Kimiko sticks her tongue out at Karin, making the young rōnin flip her off. Then Kimiko stalks off, proud of herself for the drama she’s just caused. Karin returns to her studying. She’s got a test tomorrow, so she really should just be focused on that. Kento returns and he bends down to begin working on the holes in the wall.

The young rōnin looks over and her jaw drops again. How could he make something so simple look so good? Her eyes are nearly bulging out of her head. Kento then looks over at her, causing the heat to rise in her cheeks. She’s returning to her studies very quickly, humming in a way that makes her seem nonchalant. Kento smirks, but he’s also sporting a light dusting of pink on his own cheeks. It’s been a while since anyone has looked at him like that.

“So, it’s a review test, hm?” He asks as he begins fixing the wall.

“Rearview…is good?” Karin answers, staring at his butt.

Kento turns around, “Review test! I said "review test!”

“Oh uhm, yeah! Review test!”

Karin scratches the back of her neck nervously, clearly getting caught in a troublesome situation. He was surely going to think she was a pervert now. Kento chuckles softly, returning to his work. For a little while, the pair work in silence. Karin finishes up her studying and Kento finishes patching up the wall. He stands up to admire his handiwork.

“Lookin’ good, manager!” Kimiko exclaims from the doorway.

Kento whips around to look at the young woman, his cheeks burning even more. Karin rolls her eyes, not wanting to show just how jealous she is that Kimiko is showing the new manager so much attention. Kimiko shrugs her shoulders and smiles.

“The patch job, I mean. It’s almost as good as new,” Kimiko explains, laughing softly.

Kento chuckles, “Well, thank you, Kimiko,”

Just then, Mr. Ide comes in and smirks at Kimiko. He has a few bottles of sake and some cans of beer in his arms. Mrs. Orito is just behind him, a playful look on her face. Karin is shaking her head, trying to signal to everyone that this wasn’t going to happen in her room at all. It just couldn’t happen in her room!

“Perfect timing, manager! Time to celebrate your homecomin’!” Mrs. Orito sits down at the chabudai.

“Oh– well, I guess I could have a drink.” Kento sits down with all of them.

Karin sighs loudly, trying to return to her studies once more. Of course, leave it to these whacky people to ruin her night. They all begin to drink, toasting to the new manager. Kento is kind, joining in on the festivities. Yet, in the back of his mind, he worries about Karin. She has a review test tomorrow. It could be detrimental to her if she doesn’t do well.

“Maybe we should move this to my room?” Kento suggests, hoping to get the other tenants to join in.

Kimiko leans in, a little more buzzed now, “Nahhh, come on. If the rōnin fails her test, she’ll have a reason why. Some people just want to play the victim.”

This is the last straw. Karin snaps her pencil once more, and she gets up. She opens the door, sliding it shut violently. There are tears in her eyes as she makes her way over to the entryway, opening the door to get just a bit more fresh air.

“Hey,” Kento calls from just behind her. “Are you alright, Karin?”

Karin turns to face him, a sarcastic smile on her face. “Does it look like I am?”

He shakes his head, sighing. “No, I suppose it doesn’t.”

He then places his hand on her shoulder and squeezes softly. She looks up at him, allowing their gazes to lock. She sees how his eyes are this brilliant amber color. Karin swears she could get lost in his eyes forever. Then she looks down, ashamed of everything that’s happened today.

“I wish they wouldn’t call you that nasty cruel name.” Kento finally says.

Karin cocks her head to the side, “rōnin?”

Kento nods, “Yes. It’s a terrible term. It’s hurtful.”

Karin is surprised to hear this from him. Was he a rōnin as well when he was her age? She knows it’s not the end of the world to be a rōnin. Lots of people take time off to study and get better at their craft. Though it would surprise her that someone like Kento would have been a rōnin. He just seems so well off.

“That’s what they used to call me…when I was unemployed. I uh…was a salaryman for a long time. Then, I was unemployed.”

Suddenly, Kento is shy and looking away from the young woman in front of him. Karin isn’t sure how to reply, so she steps forward and gently gives his shoulder a squeeze this time. He smiles softly and looks at her once again.

“I became unemployed when my wife passed.”

Karin feels her heart drop. His wife? Did she hear correctly? There’s a frown that forms on her face, her heart aching for the man in front of him. He lost his wife and was called an awful name. It must have hurt him so much to see his former colleagues and friends treat him in such a way.

“Please, don’t worry about this. I have faith in you, Karin.”

His words ring loudly in her mind and then he reaches to tousle her hair so playfully. With that, he bids her goodnight and heads towards her room to kick the rest of the tenants out. The music and ruckus stops, with all the tenants piling out and giving Karin the stink eye.

But nothing else matters right now…all that mattered was that Kento had faith in Karin.

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nekomanager · 1 year ago

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003. 𝙈𝙄𝙎𝙏𝙀𝙍 𝙈𝙄𝘿𝙉𝙄𝙂𝙃𝙏 • DEVOUR

track list • prev - next

What if the sexy stranger in your dreams and your seductive client at work is actually a ravishing demon determined to love you whatever it takes? Can you break through the delusions?

incubus!kuroo, f!reader, deep pnetration, l-bombs, size kink, dacryphilia

wasn't able to write my solo drabble for kuroo's birthday but definitely not gonna miss this! I remembered a friend once told me to keep on writing even just for that one person believing in my works, I'd like to thank you for picking up this fic and believing in me. I love you. mwah mwah 💋💋

You gripped the sheets as his big cock relentlessly rammed into you. There...There...so good aaahhh...You moaned totally enjoying the sensation.

“Is it good? Am I making you feel good?” he asked, putting in so much effort with how he thrust in you.

“Yes! Yes! It’s so good. You’re so good-” He ate your words, kissing you like your lips were his favorite food.

Your pussy throbbed, and you soon found yourself cumming again.

Opening your eyes, you placed an arm on your forehead. You must be a very horny girl to dream of this non-stop, but you couldn’t deny liking it and not wanting it to stop.

You sighed.

You forgot how he looked like again. Somehow, as days passed, you felt even closer and acquainted to him...the man of your dreams. He’s so sweet but very masculine at the same time.

Your pussy was still throbbing in a good way. You checked in between your legs and found your panties drenched. Don’t tell me...you squirted even in the dream. Your face heated up, embarrassed.

On your way to the coffeeshop, you suddenly became more conscious, noticing that people, specifically men, were now looking at you differently. It wasn’t like this before. You were what they would call a normie, someone you would just pass by, but now you’ve been receiving odd glances.

Having a drink in hand, you saw the old lady again. However, she seemed to be busy doing tarot reading with her makeshift table. You were tempted to approach her to ask more questions, but you’d be having a meeting with Kuroo today.

All this time, you wanted to know if it’s really an incubus in your dreams how come you felt even better ever since? You’re supposed to be losing weight now or all drained out of energy, but you felt the opposite.

You shook the thought away, finally reaching your office building.

“Oh, Y/N! There you are...” A senior from the other department greeted. “Lookin’ good, huh? What’s the secret?”

“Secret?” You looked down on yourself. You fixed yourself just the same and changed nothing.

“Yeah, you seem to be glowing nowadays. Something’s different.”

You’re wearing normal corporate attire, the same minimal make-up, nothing special. “I don’t know.... maybe I’m getting better sleep?”

Well, better was an understatement. Having those lewd dreams was embarrassing but they did make you feel elevated and amazing like a heavy weight was lifted off your shoulders each morning.

“Of course, sleep! Or...maybe you have someone?” She cooed then her eyes suddenly glanced up behind you. You looked back and saw Kuroo.

“Morning, Y/N. Let’s go together?” he pressed the elevator button up.

As usual, he looked so dangerous again. His dark gray pinstriped suit fit him perfectly.

“Sure, sir. Good morning,” you greeted back.

“Okay, I’ll leave you two alone,” your senior bade, winking at you before she walked away.

No way! No way! No way! Your last interaction with Kuroo proved how tricky your situation was. Though you admitted having e a little crush on him, you shouldn’t get carried away. First, it’s unprofessional. Second, he gave off big fuckboy energy.

The elevator doors opened and there’s only the two of you inside. It closed and you took in a sharp breath, which you held. It was so spacious, but he specifically chose to be so close to you. You gulped; he smelled so good—a little spicy just like his personality. His scent was drowning you and making your head all dizzy.

“You smell good,” he leaned down and said to you with grainy voice.

Shivers ran through your spine. You pressed your thighs together. Oh my.

Your attention shifted to your reflection on the steel make of the elevator where you found Kuroo pinning your gaze. He tilted his head, eyes not leaving you as he breathed you in and you took in a deep inhale at the same time.

The doors opened and you told him, “I’ll go to the restroom first.”

You immediately splashed your face with water. Kuroo was painfully making you feel some type of way. He’s unearthing that hidden part of yourself you never thought existed. He was making you feel like a woman. A beautiful, well-desired, most-coveted woman. He’s making all your dreams a reality, but you’re a romance type of girl and not the type he wanted.

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪

Swaying the glass in his hand, Kuroo stared at the woman from across the room. She was talking to her friends, but that was a while ago. Now, amidst the pulsing lights and the darkness of the bar, she had all her attention shifted to the mysterious man in suit fully captivated by how his gaze pierced through her while his smirk was oddly turning her on.

She stood up and headed towards his direction as expected. It would be almost a month now since he hadn’t eaten anything else aside from you. He thought that maybe it was just a temporary syndrome as he adjusted to a new town.

Kuroo raked his gaze from her head to toes. She’s hot, especially with that white dress hugging her body so tight. Normally, with the quality of sex he thought he’d be having with this woman, he knew he’s gonna get his fill. That’s under normal circumstances.

“What…what’re you drinking?” she asked.

He simply answered, “Rum and coke.”

Dammit! He felt his stomach turning doing this.

“Can I take a sip?”

And he allowed her, she leaned forward and dipped. Her cleavage a free offering for him to see and lust over. She placed a hand on his thigh…

Kuroo grimaced.

Fuck! He knew this would happen. Appalled…he’s appalled. His body was rejecting her hand on his. Last time this happened, he couldn’t get his dick up and ended up in shame. He couldn’t even bring himself to have sex with anyone now. It’s all because of you.

He knew that going to a bar would be a bad idea. After all, he’s not even there to bait some food but just to have a nice drink yet...his strong aura as an incubus was reeking and attracting women non-stop.

Since he was new in town a month back and was still gathering observation, he shifted into his cat form everynight to find a home to stay at. He didn’t expect that you would be kind enough to adopt him, that he would grow fond of you and eventually would come to...love you. It sounded cringey, but right now there’s nothing more cringe-worthy than a hand of a woman on him aside from yours.

They said once an incubus like him falls in love with someone, they could only mate with them and no one else. Kuroo didn’t know that to be true until now when his cock couldn’t stand up in around any other woman’s presence except you.

Though his hunger could be satisfied by his nightly visits in your dreams, nothing could be having you in flesh.

He thought that working with you would make things easier, but he was wrong. His feelings for you only got stronger in each passing day he got to spend with you, and it had been hard to control himself from not having an erection in the office when around you.

“What’s wrong?” The woman asked, still wanting nothing but to have him in between her legs.

You’re wrong. This is wrong. “I should go.” Kuroo stood up almost running away from the scene.

“Wait!” He faintly heard in the background as he loosened his tie and dashed away.

It was a breath of fresh air once he’s out. Taking in the cool wind of the night, he strolled to clear his mind.

No, he didn’t view just as a livestock he could feed on endlessly, and it wasn’t just sex for him. Who would’ve thought that he’d fall for you while you took care of him as a pet?

He drew a long sigh, finding himself at your apartment building. Then, finding himself outside your door. Well, true to his other form, he appeared like a stray cat finally finding his way home after days of misadventure.

What was he even doing here? He berated himself for acting like a creep. Dragging a hand through his face, he accidentally nudged the food you left for him outside your door.

The pet dish elicited a sound which prompted you to open the door.

“Miste-” Your eyes widened at the sight of Kuroo welcoming you instead of your beloved cat. “Sir? What’re you...What’re you doing here?”

I can’t stop thinking about you. “Hey...” Kuroo tried thinking of an excuse, but he couldn’t bring himself to think of any.

“Are you drunk?”

He swallowed. “Just a bit.”

You sighed. “You can’t drive drunk. Do you...” you blushed. “Do you wanna come stay for a while?”

His face heated up. “Sure.”

You let him and he smoothly moved around your apartment much to your surprise.

“Do you wanna have some cof-” You stopped midway, remembering...

“You don’t have coffee,” he stated, which puzzled you. How did he know? “I mean, tea.” He continued.

Maybe, the alcohol was messing up with his speech. You opened one of your cupboards only to discover that you placed the tea on the top shelf. You were about to get a chair to step on, but Kuroo was already behind you, reaching for the box of tea.

“Here,” he said, giving you the item.

“Oh...” you muttered, bemused at how keen he was.

You prepared the tea for him while he watched your every move, reminding you of Mr. Midnight’s habit of doing the exact same thing.

“Here,” you handed him the cup and he took an immediate sip. “So what brings you here?”

“This one’s the nearest to the bar,” Kuroo placed the cup down. “Don’t worry I didn’t follow you around.” Not as a human. “I learned your address through the records.”

“I see...so you sifted through my records, but don’t follow me around. That doesn’t sound creepy,” you teased.

“Hey! I must know your address, okay? That’s just me being responsible since we always have meetings outside. Anything could happen.”

You chuckled. “Yeah, such as you taking shelter because you can’t drive home drunk.”

“Exactly,” he affirmed and continued, drinking his tea.

You took a glance at the watch and noticed that it was past your bedtime. You were trying to keep yourself awake, but sleep was taking over. You were very tired for the day especially that the gala event was in a few days' time from now.

“Thank you,” Kuroo said as he finished his tea, and he was eventually surprised to see you sleeping in front of him. He smiled and pressed your cheek with his index finger like how he usually did it with his paw back then to check if you’re asleep.

Geez...He chortled to himself and carried you to bed. He swept away a few strands of hair from your face and couldn’t help but lay down and curl beside you. Nuzzling his nose on top of your head, he embraced you lovingly tight.

You used to hug him when he was a cat, and he missed those days when he could stay asleep beside you so close like this. How he wished he could finally have you settle in his arms? Though he wanted to pay you a visit in dreams, he’d rather bask in this moment instead, hearing your heartbeat, drowning in your scent and enveloped in your warmth.

Your phone’s alarm rang, which woke you up from your sleep. You sat up in a rush and in disbelief. You didn’t have any dream last night. That’s odd. Even if that’s the case, however, you could feel the familiar touch lingering through your skin. It was as if he held you for real.

Your eyes widened, recalling that Kuroo stayed over for a bit last night. You looked around but he’s no longer to be seen anywhere.

You squashed your face in between your hands and decided to stand up.

“Kuroo?” You called out as you headed to your arriving at your dining area, where you were surprised to discover a cooked omurice. On the surface of it, was a cat doodle made with ketchup and a note that read, Rise and Shine!

Kuroo...you whispered his name in your head so fondly as your face split into a warm grin.

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪

His tongue danced with yours with his arms caging you in. He’s so warm, and you felt safe wrapped around his presence.

“Were you stressed?” he asked, a hand caressing the top of your face while his eyes conveyed so much concern. “You did a great job. You always do.”

You cupped his face. “’Twas just a long day, but I got you, so it’s fine.”

He smiled and kissed the tip of your nose, “Yeah, you always got me, love. Always remember that.” He caught your lips again and kissed you tenderly, lovingly and deeply. “I’m always right beside you.”

Parting your legs, he thrust into you. Your pussy was slowly being stretched out as he took his time so you could fully feel his size. You bit back a moan as his tip finally reached your core. His hips were moving in a sensual tempo that had you wanting more.

He saw your need and began hitting with force, your tits jiggled everytime he pushed right back in. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, and he dug deeper, bringing your thighs on both sides if your face, messing you up in a mating press.

“Can you feel me? Can you feel all of me?” He asked under his breath, trying his best to curb his wilder desires and wanting to make you feel loved instead.

“Oh! Aaaahhh....” You moaned, feeling the length of his cock go in and out of your pussy. “Yes, you’re so big. It’s so long. Feels so good.”

“When you say it like that-” he said in pain and pounded fast. His fingers digging into the flesh of your thighs as he went all out not able to control his impulses anymore.

He conquered your lips and you let yourself be consumed with passion. All you could do was shut your eyes and feel the tears of overwhelming pleasure trickle down. Your nails raked on the skin of his back as you felt like flying with the way he was fucking you senseless yet oh-so-loving at the same time.

“I love you, I love you,” he spewed out in every thrust, and you were drunk in his tender gaze as your insides melted and your body shook.

Slowly, your eyes opened. You could still remember his hands on you. The feel of his length inside you. You ached for him more and more each day and not only in a sexual way. That man...he always made sure you were well-fed everynight, but you wanted to remember who he was. Was he just your imagination? A person from the future? All of this seemed so bittersweet. You had a man who only existed on your dreams, and he made love with you every night like you’re the only person in his eyes.

It’s almost a month now...You hugged yourself, feeling a little cold. At first, you thought all this was sexual, but lately you began feeling loved.

You had many questions...like if it’s really an incubus in your dreams why did you feel even better each day? Why was he so loving to you? Why do you not only feel lust but affection each time he’d hold you close?

You snapped away from your thoughts. You’re approaching the end of your campaign, and somehow you felt some kind of ending happening too. This meant you’d never see Kuroo again. You looked at him from across the table. This time you would be having an emergency meeting in the lobby of the hotel where the Gala Event for the project would be held next week.

However, you were quite bothered at the thought of not seeing him anymore.

“Why are you sad, hmm?” He asked, resting his face on his palm, breaking your thoughts in the middle of work.

“Oh, I just remembered something-”

Your eyes widened.

Out of the blue, he had something soft pressed on your face. It’s...It’s a black cat plushie. He looked from behind the little stuffed toy. What’s that expression he’s giving you? Like he’s trying to be cute, sporting a small pout with cheeks a little puffed. “He'd be sad if you are too, y’know?”

“W-What’s this, sir?”

“All yours,” he said, plopping the plushie on the table. “Take good care of him.”

Oh...You remembered having a discussion with him about Mr. Midnight. It’s...sweet that he remembered—that he knew how much you missed your little rascal. A smile couldn’t help but show on your face.

“What would you name it?” he asked.

“Kuro,” you held the plushie. “I’ll name him Kuro.”

“I’m honored,” Kuroo the person grinned, and the moment felt like it paused for a while. Why...Why were you feeling the beat of your heart in your ears?

Get a grip! You shouldn’t be feeling this way. Maybe...Maybe he’s just great with women, you said to yourself.

How can a man like him even like someone like you, right?

Your inner musings were interrupted by a hotel staff member when she approached both of you, her expression didn’t spell good news. “Excuse me, ma’am, sir. I’m the personnel assigned for banquet sales. Unfortunately, we found your event booked on a different date on our calendar.”

“What? We already signed an agreement for this with that exact date indicated,” you replied, conviction evident on your tone.

“Yes, ma’am. We’re very sorry, but there’s been a mistake.”

“We already sent out the invitations,” you said, a little infuriated. It would be a shame on your part to deliver a mistaken message to the delegates, especially that the event would be next week, and the suppliers were already booked for the date.

“My apologies, ma’am. We can schedule your event some other dates or refund you in full.”

You heaved and fetched the contract in your phone, rereading the agreement despite knowing the outcome. It’s a loss case. It’s written there that the establishment reserved the right to refuse, and you knew all of them had that clause, because the agreement will always be in favor of the contracting party.

“Do you have any other function halls available on our date?” Kuroo stepped in.

The lady checked her files and informed, “Unfortunately sir, the only available room couldn’t accommodate your number of guests.”

“How ‘bout that...” He pointed at one of the dining halls. “Will that be available on our date?”

“I’ll double check, sir. Please wait here for a while,” said the staff member before she went to check.

“That’s...That’s expensive,” you worriedly informed Kuroo.

He placed a hand on your shoulder and grinned, “Don’t worry about it. I’ll take care of it.”

Your eyes searched his. His tone...The way he made you feel so secure...It’s like de ja vu. Who...Who are you? The question suddenly came to the top of your mind, however before you could make more sense of it, the personnel arrived.

“Good news, ma’am and sir. The Wine Room was still not taken. We can reserve it for you at a discounted price as our way to compensate for the mistake we made on your original booking.”

“That’s good then!” Kuroo turned to you and winked. You smiled at him, unplanned and involuntarily.

Why did he have to be like this? Why was Kuroo making you feel like he might also feel the same way you’re starting to feel for him?

You hugged the Kuro plushie close. Suddenly, you felt a bit scared, scared that after all of this was done, you were never going to see him again.

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#𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 MISTER MIDNIGHT #kuroo smut #kuroo x reader #haikyuu smut #haikyuu x reader #hq smut #hq x reader #kuroo fic #kuroo x you #kuroo x y/n

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whaleofatjme1920 · 3 years ago

Note

Aaaaa this is a fic request, where kondraki is with an s/o where they are a normal civilian and is completely oblivious to whatever is going on, until she got curious and snooped around, found out about the foundation and confronted kondraki about it, now he has too make her forget and give her anesthetics and it might lead to some really good angst >:)

‘With All My Love, Kondraki.’

[Dr. Kondraki X F!Reader]

[Warnings: language, angst]

[AN: it's 4.1K words. lots of love and the pacing is weird]

When you first met Benjamin Kondraki, you had never been so confused on how a peach so sweet could be related to a lemon so sour.

“Miss Reader, Miss Reader!” The buzzling little boy at the dining room table began to prod. He jumps excitedly, almost spilling his orange juice as one of his mothers packs her bag up, getting ready for her long work day. She continues to move, currently looking for things she may need when her front door opens, revealing a woman dressed appropriately for the warm summer day.

“Hi Mrs. Wei,” you greet, kicking your shoes off at the door, and placing the keys back into your bag. You notice she’s searching - probably for her car keys.

The black haired woman looks up from her current task and beams. “Reader! I’m so glad you could make it. Thank you so much for coming on such short notice,” she says as she briefly waves at you. “Nia originally had the day off but something went wrong at the lab and she has to go in, and I have to be at the salon today-”

You smile and wave her off, reaching over on the sofa for her car keys. You cross the distance and hold the keys out to her. “Don’t worry about it. I wouldn’t miss spending time with this special little guy for the world,” you chuckle, looking over to the happy little boy as he scarfs up his breakfast. Looks like today was waffles.

Mrs. Wei takes her keys and heads over to her son, pressing her lips to the crown of his head. “You be good for Miss Reader, okay?” She reminds him with a small smile as he happily gazes up at her. “Again, thank you for coming on short notice.”

You wave her off with a small chuckle. “It’s nothing. Have a good day at work.”

Mrs. Wei opens the front door of her house, once again waving to her son before nodding at you. “Nia will text you when she’s coming home. You two have fun,” she says, the door closing after her with a soft click.

Shortly after that as you sit down at the table with Markl, you hear her car come to life and peel out of the driveway. Your attention is now on this special little boy. “So, are you ready for a fun day?” You inquire, pouring yourself a glass of orange juice.

Markl nods, his dark eyes shimmering in the light. “Super ready!” He exclaims with a wide smile.

You can’t help but giggle. “What do you wanna do today?” You hum. “We could go to the beach, or the mall-”

“I wanna go to the park,” he interjects in a way that only five year olds can. “There’s a boy I’m really good friends with and I want to see him again.” Markl begins to rattle off, excitedly telling you about all his adventures only pausing to finish up his food or drink some more orange juice. He’s beaming.

You listen to him with such a large smile, every now and then reminding him to finish. When he’s done, it’s barely 10 in the morning. Markl wanted to watch some TV and then get dressed and ready for the park. He’s a big boy, so you trusted him to get ready by himself without your help - and he’s developing a quick sense of style. Right now, tiaras and t-rexes are all the rage.

In the meantime, you check the weather. Looks like today is going to be a really nice day. “Hey, Markl?”

“Yeah?”

“Which park are we going to in order to see your friend?”

“The one with the really big rocketship,” he calls out.

You hum. Okay, that’s the one by the beach. “Sweetie, you want me to pack a beach bag? Planning on going in the water?”

A slight pause before you can hear the little boy go ‘uh-huh!’

You turn off the TV and begin to pack, quickly moving through some of the rooms for some beach things. Luckily, you already have some of your own beach things in your car. Markl finally comes down the stairs right when you finish packing and you see he’s got a dinosaur swim top on, some shorts, and his favorite flip flops paired with a plastic tiara he won on the last day of school. “Lookin’ good,” you compliment as you glance over the house, once again fishing around for your keys.

Markl beams and hops down the stairs to be at your side. “Time to go?”

“Time to go,” you answer, opening the front door.

Markl practically hops out of your car once you make it to the beach side park. You have to tell him to hold his horses and he pouts for a moment because apparently, his friend is waiting for him. You lean in the backseat and get out the beach bag. “Okay, okay, we can go now,” you say as you sling it over your shoulder. It’s warm, almost impossibly warm. Thank goodness you’re by the sea.

You watch as Markl speeds off towards the giant rocketship, kicking up sand as he does so. He’s calling out for another little boy - “Draven? Where are you?” He calls out.

You watch with curiosity as Markl runs about the playground, moving past the other kids. You tilt your head slightly and take a seat on the bench, watching as Markl runs around.

“There you are!” He finally cries out happily, running up and smacking into another boy similar in height. He’s got curly black hair, much like Markl, but much lighter skin. They instantly wrap arms around each other before running off to play on the giant rocketship.

Smiling, you pull out a book from your bag and begin to read, listening every now and then to the boys as they play. You’re glad Markl has a friend.

The warm summer day begins to tick by and around noon, you hear small steps padding up against the sand to come see you.

“Miss Reader,” Markl starts, peering over your book. “Can we go play in the water?” He asks, eyes akin to that of a puppy.

You bookmark your page and nod before pausing. “Oh, what about Draven? Does his mom say it’s okay?” You ask, not wanting to run off with some other person’s kid.

Markl and Draven share a look at each other before pulling at you. “Let’s go ask!”

You raise your brows and hurriedly get your things together, crossing the sandy playground to the other side where some man sits. He’s got dark black hair, slightly curled, and looks exhausted.

“Daddy, daddy!” Draven calls out, happily bounding up to the man you now recognize as his father. “Can I go play in the water?”

The man raises a brow, looking at his son and the boy he recognizes as his son’s friend. “She gonna be watching you?”

You bristle slightly. ‘She’? You press your lips into a tight line. “You do realize I have a name, right?” You say, resting your hands on your hips.

The man blinks, a huff escaping his lips. “Apologies.” It’s said in such a hollow tone. “I’m Benjamin Kondraki, most people call me by my last name.” He holds his hand out to you.

You narrow your eyes and center yourself. “Reader, Reader Last,” you reply, taking his hand. You put on a smile and then let him go. “I’ll watch Draven,” you say.”

“Don’t you wanna go in the water with them?”

You blink. “I guess?” It was an awfully hot day. Maybe he has a point.

“And you can’t do that while you’re holding all of these things, right?”

You nod.

Kondraki stands up, stretching his limbs before he ruffles his son’s hair, and then Markl’s who laughs loudly and joyously. “I’ll take a seat on the beach, watch your stuff.”

You spent the rest of the day swimming with the two boys, tossing them into the water and playing with them. Markl was happy you were able to play, and Draven was just pleased he was able to go in the water. Normally, Kondraki didn’t let him go in! At one point, Kondraki became the judge over a sandcastle contest between the three of you and Markl ended up winning!

“You did put in good effort,” he said, a sly grin on his lips as you flicked the water droplets off your hand at him. He laughed.

Draven and Markl hugged each other tight, trying hard to spend more time with each other when it’s time to go. Both you and Kondraki struggled to get the boys apart from each other. But, sleepiness from a long day affects even the strongest of bonds and the two were peeled away once the yawning commenced.

“I’m sure I’ll see you soon,” you say over your shoulder as Kondraki rests a tired Draven in his arms.

“Sure,” he hummed. “Have a nice evening.”

You warmly smile, almost displeased he’s not returning the gesture.

What an odd man.

Shortly after coming back to Markl’s place, Nia had texted she’d be home soon and right when you were cuddling with Markl on the couch to a fun movie (he’d insisted on watching Spirit: Stallion of the Cimarron).

“You two look like you’ve had an eventful day,” she smiles, kicking off her shoes and getting ready to relax in her home. She brushes her fingers upwards and takes out the hair tie, letting her braids fall down her back.

“We did,” you say as Nia sits down on the couch next to her son, her gentle arms taking him into her arms. “Met Draven’s dad.”

“Konny?” Nia perks up. “He’s a good friend of mine.”

Your eyes widen in surprise. “He is? But he’s such a d-”

Nia laughs, her smile widening. “I know,” she giggles. She brushes her fingers through Markl’s hair. “He’s not a bag guy, promise.”

You roll your eyes and relax against the couch. “Sure.”

Nia only snickers in response.

The next time you see Kondraki is at Markl’s birthday party. And it’s safe to say that this time, you and Kondraki got along just fine. There were a few shifty glances thrown, but ultimately? Ultimately, the two of you sat at the table, had some cake, and poked fun at certain things. He made you laugh, and seeing him with Draven made you admittedly more friendly than you were expecting to be.

“Y’know, you’re not too bad,” you say, a small smile on your lips.

Kondraki chuckles under his breath as he hands you another glass of iced tea. “Should I be offended?” He jokes.

You lightly slap his shoulder and take the tea from him, sipping at it slowly. “Are you a dick to everyone you meet?”

Kondraki laughs this time, it bubbles up from his throat and exits like bubbles. His eyes crinkle slightly. “When am I not like that?” He grins.

“For work?” You hum, eyes shifting to Markl and Draven running around the backyard with other kids. You fail to notice how Kondraki freezes, a slight fear washing over his system before he clears his throat.

“Yeah, for work,” he says, attempting to keep up the light tone.

You sigh slightly in response, that same smile on your lips as you look back over to him. “I get it,” you say. “I can be a bit of a witch too.”

Kondraki playfully rolls his eyes. “Sure, like you have a mean bone in your body.” He takes a long sip at his drink.

“Could always change that if you leant me yours,” you absentmindedly say, not even realizing the implications until Kondraki practically chokes. A heat rises over your cheeks as Kondraki struggles to compose himself. “Oh my gods, I’m so sorry-”

“Don’t be!” He laughs, practically doubled over as your face heats up even more.

You pout and cross your arms over your chest, heart beating like a drum. You rake \your fingers across your face and take in a deep breath.

Kondraki grins wildly as he comes back up, brushing his fingers through his hair, his emerald colored eyes shining in the remaining sunlight. “So, what are you doing next Friday?”

You’ve been dating the man for three years now. A simple Friday date turned into another, and then another, and after that, it was breaking the news to Draven who was more than excited to have you in his life. Now? Now you’re about to make the biggest step in your relationship so far.

“And you’re sure you’re comfortable with this?” Kondraki asks as he rests his arm over your shoulders, looking at your cleared out apartment save for the plethora of brown boxes that litter the room. It looks so empty, and the echoes of both your voices is the clearest reminder. “Because like, I don’t want to force you into-”

You turn your head to the side and press your lips warmly to the corner of Kondraki’s mouth, making him melt into the simple touch. “We’re gonna be just fine,” you begin. “I am going to be just fine. You’ve been asking me this question ever since you first proposed that I move in with you,” you tease as Kondraki shifts, his hands resting warmly on your waist. Your fingers reach up to thread through his dark locks, eyes getting lost in his. “I hate being apart from you,” you murmur into his chest.

Kondraki hums warmly, his lips pressing to the crown of your head as he swats the two of you. “I know, I know,” he murmurs. “I just don’t want you to be overwhelmed or like I’m forcing you, y’know?” He attempts to explain as he averts his gaze for a moment.

You furrow your brows and flash him a knowing smile. “You don’t need to worry about me like you did-” her “it’s nothing. I’m a big girl, I can handle it,” you giggle, once again tilting your head upwards to press your lips to Kondraki’s.

He chuckles deeply, thankful you didn’t mention her name and squeezes you against him. He revels in the feeling of your hearts beating in sync before gently and reluctantly peeling away from you. “C’mon, last of these boxes?”

You grin. “Last of these boxes.”

“Is that the last of it?” You huff, dropping the box onto the living room floor.

Kondraki wipes back the hair that’s fallen over his brow and nods. “Yeah, I think we’re in the clear.” He stretches his arms a bit, then his back, and takes in a few deep breaths. “Who knew such a small apartment could hold so much stuff.”

You chuckle heartily, “I know, right?” You check your watch. “Oh! Your turn to pick up Draven,” you say as Kondraki glances to his own watch, brows shooting up in surprise.

“Shit, you’re right,” he says as he pulls open the front door again. “Be back in a bit, love you,” he says as he rushes out the door.

“Love you too,” you call back, watching as a sly smile spreads onto Kondraki’s lips, listening to the car start off in the distance. You hum as you get to work, already familiar with the house as you begin to move things around.

It’s honestly relatively mindless work considering a good portion of your things have already been moved to the house in preparation for this day. You’re about halfway through getting your clothes into the drawers Kondraki cleared out for you when you hear a ping. Curiosity gets the better of you and you stand up, looking for the pings. Multiple of them. Sounds like an instant messenger go off, but you’ve never heard that type of notification sound before.

You begin to search the room, crouching down and playing an odd sort of “marco polo” with the thing until you check the closet. There, hidden behind piles of out of commission sweaters is a laptop. Weird, how have you never noticed that before, especially with all the times you’ve spent in this specific room? You shake the thought off and begin to move the sweaters aside and grasp for the laptop. It looks new, like, really, really new. There’s no company mark on it either. Silver chrome, in good condition, you raise a brow.

‘Should I really be doing this?’ You ask yourself as you debate on prying open the laptop or not. You bite your lip and sigh before deciding that yes, you’re going to be nosy even if your boyfriend might not appreciate it. You’ve never gone through his things without his permission prior to, and this was just to stop the notifications that kept incessantly going on. You pry open the laptop, pupils constricting slightly with how bright the screen is.

Of course, it’s locked.

Curiously, the little chat bubble is still open, and you’re able to read the correspondence. You read over the names, there’s three. Gears, Bright, and Clef. Must be coworkers? They seem a tad worried.

Gears: You cannot keep spamming him in hopes it will work.

Clef: the hell I can’t?? He needs to get his ass over here

Bright: I’ve tried call him and it’s not working

Bright: which is weird because when was the last time you saw him off his phone

Gears: Dr. Kondraki, you are needed almost immediately.

Dr? You raise a brow and scroll upwards in the chat, hoping to get some type of answer. And it keeps going, hundreds of messages about work and things you’re just barely piecing together. Luckily, there’s a little button that allows you to go all the way to the top - or at least how far the logs go.

What is all of this? Images are sometimes shown about files or strange creatures. How is this even allowed out? Your mind begins to spin.

While you scroll through the chat, you look up things through your phone, whispers of things called ‘SCPs’ and containment procedures, and of course, you find next to nothing. Is this just some elaborate Dungeons and Dragons campaign? Your head is spinning further and further as you go down the rabbit hole.

Apparently, Gears, Bright and Clef need Kondraki for something in regards to SCP 239, and it may or may not break ethics code. The things they’re planning on doing… You’re not sure what to make of it. You’re so immensely confused, head practically tearing apart at the seams when the front door opens and you hear Kondraki step back inside, a long sigh on his lips.

“Reader? You in?” He calls out. “Sorry for coming back so late, Draven’s mom, she uh,” he chuckles uncomfortably under his breath, “Draven’s not gonna be with us this weekend.”

You panic and slam the laptop shut, struggling to get the room back in order as Kondraki makes his way to the bedroom.

“Baby, what are you doing?” He asks, brow raised as he leans in the bedroom doorway, arms slightly crossed.

“I was just putting away my clothes!” You rush out, smiling at him.

“Sure,” he says with a small chuckle. His eyes scan over you before he realizes you’re sitting in front of the closet. His heart begins to sink. “Reader…”

“Konny-”

“How much did you see?”

You bite your lip. “I didn’t see anything,” you say. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Kondraki can practically feel the lie radiating off of you. “What did you see?” He asks again.

You feel shivers running up and down your spine, your heart is constricting. “...What is SCP 239?”

A long sigh leaves Kondraki’s lips, his eyes slowly moving from you to his wardrobe. The top drawer, the one you can’t reach, the one he’s told you is nothing more than a coin holder… It has the amnestics. He blinks a few times, heavily walking over to the bed and plopping down on it. “C’mere, I’ll explain it to you,” he says, patting the space beside him.

You hesitantly stand, hand resting in his.

Kondraki rests his arm around you, pulling you into his side as he begins to weave to you the tale of everything you should have never known. Like the first humans in the garden, you were tempted by the snake and ate of the fruit that should have not been eaten. Knowledge is your damnation.

It’s exhausting, entirely exhausting. The weight of all this knowledge - you can’t help but lay back on the bed and listen to Kondraki’s heart, your eyes feeling heavier and heavier.

“Are you tired?” He asks softly, his nose buried into your hair.

You nod ever so slightly.

“Why don’t you get some sleep?”

You feel tears welling in your eyes as Kondraki’s grip around you tightens. “Are you going to be here when I wake up?”

He hums deeply, lips peppering kisses to the crown of your head. “Of course I will.”

“You promise?”

A slightly prick snaps at the base of your skull.

“Yeah baby, I promise.”

You wake up the next morning with tired eyes and a heavy body. You yawn, stretch, and crack your back, eyes narrowing at the sound. Crisp. With another small yawn, you sit up and look out your window, pleased to see that there’s little to no traffic outside. You wonder if you’ll see Sophie soon. Her fathers would be pleased to have the day off, after all. You reach over for your phone.

10 AM on a Saturday? You briefly panic, wondering if you’re missed any baby sitting appointment with your favorite gal when you see a text from Dylan.

Philip: hey sugar cube, Dylan’s mother cancelled the visit for this weekend. Won’t be needing to watch Sophie this weekend. Have a good one

Came in at 7 AM. You let out a breathy sigh before falling back onto your bed. Thank goodness, you would’ve felt awful for leaving them hanging! You sit back up again, thankful you can spend a Saturday to yourself.

Has work really been that hard? Blank spaces begin to make themselves known in the back of your head, a mosaic that you can’t quite place together, but it’s not blatant. Why would it matter?

You brush off the strange, bubbling thoughts before swinging your legs over the bed, sleepily heading to your kitchen. Same tiny apartment, same shitty walls. You run your fingers over your scalp before finally entering your kitchen. Why does it feel so… strange? You blink the feeling back.

There, on the countertop, is a cup of your favorite breakfast drink. It’s resting on top of a slip of paper in a handwriting that feels so familiar, yet hazy.

You try to bite back the horror that someone was in your apartment when you were asleep but shakily reach out to the note anyways, not realizing that your eyes are beginning to water as a response.

‘Nice to see you’re up, Reader. Always were a late riser. Look, I’m not supposed to be writing this to you, not after what happened, but I know you’re going to be confused to hell and back. Our use of ‘medicine’ can only go so far, and you’re bound to go spotty now, and a few months from now. You’re going to be confused, and you’re going to feel things that you aren’t supposed to because at one point, you really did feel them. When that happens, I need you to call this number - XXX-XXX-XXXX.

You’re really confused now, huh? Wouldn’t expect anything less, you never should’ve found out about this in the first place.

I’m sorry. I’m really, really sorry. For failing to protect you, for taking away so much and not even being allowed to tell you what it is I’ve taken away. Perhaps if that day had gone differently, if I didn’t spend that time talking to her, I would’ve made it back in time to stop you.

You deserve better than this, truly. I wish I could have been that for you, and I’m so, so sorry that it had to come to this. Our protocol is strict, and I couldn’t bear to put you through what I’ve-... Some things are better left unwritten, but just know that it was better this than putting you through what we’d call hell on earth.

I’ve never broken a promise to you, not in the four wonderful years I’ve known you and the three I’ve loved you. I’ve managed to keep them all, but I fear this is the first I will break.

Call the number when things get weird, maybe we'll meet again.

With all my love, Kondraki.’

#benjamin kondraki #dr kondraki #dr kondraki x reader #dr kondraki scp #dr kondraki headcanon #scp #secure contain protect #scp x reader #scp headcanon #scp benjamin kondraki #scp foundation #kondraki

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seancekitsch · 4 years ago

Text

I was Never Young: A Klaus x Reader fic

Anyways uhhh heres my fic based on the Klaus spin off series!! I made sure not to really spoil anything in the series if u guys haven't finished it yet but it does take place after the series events. there's no smut which is weird for me bc i usually write just smut but like yolo this is where it went.

Klaus had been through the ringer. Los Angeles seems to just be more of the same, so why even leave home? Right, he’d been kicked out and cut off. Well, at least one of those problems has disappeared, he thinks as he pats the ugly little satchel full of money at the side of his hip.

He meanders down the street, no real direction or motive as he shuffles down. The diazepine is starting to wear off, and he’s going to need something to dull the corners of his mind in about an hour. A neon green sign draws his eyes, looks as sick as he’s about to be.

‘Cobra’s’ the sign says, and this one is probably as good as any.

The bar has exactly six people inside of it, he realizes as he pushes the door open. It’s hazy, full of the stale and welcoming scent of menthol tobacco. Perfect, Klaus thinks.

The bartender is a stern looking man, like he used to be a wrestler. Maybe this is what Luther or Diego will look like in thirty years if they don’t eat their wheaties.

There are two other men sitting in a booth by the corner, deep in conversation with one another. They’re boring suits, no one that Klaus could have for company. He’s just looking for someone alive to have a conversation with while he numbs himself. Someone alive, he clarifies to himself. His last friend left for heaven’s greener pastures, which he’s happy for him, but maybe the guy could have stuck around on this plane of existence for a weekend longer.

There’s a couple at the end of the bar that looks like they're on a date. In the middle of the day? Wonder if their spouses know they aren't at work. Klaus laughs out loud, poor bastards.

And then there's you, with your mixed drink, absentmindedly swirling it with your little stirrer. You seem like a safe bet, so his feet drag him over to sit down at the middle of the bar near you. He more or less throws himself into the chair, his feet immediately feeling the relief. He’s still clammy and feverish in the come down, his stomach hurts, but that’s nothing a little booze and sugar can’t help.

You notice the guy as soon as he walks in. Of course you do. After a few years, you start to recognize people even if you don’t know them. You don’t recognize him. He looks paranoid, fresh off a set and worried about what a job will do, for and to him. Poor thing. Probably one of those River Phoenix types. Young, pretty, and overwhelmed. In teen mags one day, in the obituaries the next. All preventable, hundreds of people that could step in if money meant more than the people around you.

“Hey,” the guy next to you greets you, his voice uneven, watery and cautious. His hands shake a little as he pulls a stack of cash out of his threadbare satchel, pulling a few bills from the rubberband holding it together and flattening them out against the bar.

“Hey, yourself. You new here?” He looks surprised as the words leave your lips, but is interrupted by the bartender approaching.

“Yeah, whatever that special is for today, that’ll do,” he orders like he doesn't really know what to do at the bar. He turns back to you, looking ever so boyish and lost with his big green eyes.

“How did you-?”

“How did I know you're new here?” You throw the rest of your drink back, carelessly placing it at the far end of the bar from you, “Because you don't look absolutely beaten down. I mean, you look a little twitchy, but you look fresh.”

Fresh? That’s not at all how Klaus would describe his look, having not slept in days and having been using an extreme amount of controlled substances, even for his standards.

The bartender slides a glass towards him, and he scrambles to catch it. There’s a total of two umbrellas, a flamingo stirrer, and two straws in it. In all, garish and hard to look at. The bartender takes the money, and they nod at each other.

“You look kinda young to be here,” with that remark, Klaus takes a long sip of the fruity cocktail he ordered, a sickening blue color so intense you bet it could substitute as hair dye.

“You do too,” you quip. You’d been working in this town for a few years now, on and off movie sets and bartending clubs with live acts. This boy? He looked fresh. Like he’s just been taken for his first ride. He looked rough and unused to it.

“How old are you?” he asks, he can’t place your age or accent. You look just as young as him, if not younger. You sound southern- Boston- Chicago- western and somewhere European he can’t place. Is that what Hollywood does to people's speech patterns? Is that gonna happen to him? But you seem to be as much an anomaly here as he does.

“How old are you?” you mimic back.

Klaus stares in awe as you rest your elbow against the bar, making sure he sees that as you snap your fingers, a cigarette materializes between them. You quickly shift the rolled tobacco to rest between your index and middle finger, ready to place it against your lips.

“Listen, I’m old enough.” That's all you have to say about that.

“Yeah,” he agrees, “Sometimes I think I was never young.”

You exhale sharply through your nose, the hint of a laugh.

“Yeah, alright.” You fish around in your jacket pocket for the lighter and ask, “Do you wanna get out of here? Only smoking bar in town, but it ain’t got hotdogs.”

Hotdogs, Klaus thinks, He remembers having sausage back home, but he’s never had a hotdog.

“Why are you lookin’ at me like that? You never been to a baseball game or something?”

He shook his head, no. Klaus hadn’t ever seen a baseball game. He knew the history of it, the impact it had on American society. All from a very clinical and academic standpoint. Sports weren’t really his thing.

“Nah, I always preferred activities with a bit more... uh, substance.” He laughs at his own joke, whether you get it or not really doesn’t matter.

“Right, right. So River, what’s your real name?” You talk with the cigarette but between your teeth, lighting it quickly, before the lighter in your hand vanishes from sight.

“It’s….. uh, It’s Klaus.”

You give him your name, and he repeats it, tests the name out on his tongue.

You take a deep inhale, blowing the smoke out of the corner of your mouth.

“So Klaus, wanna buy us some hotdogs?”

You leave as soon as he finishes his drink, and he talks in a way that he thinks might be too much. But you listen. You’re the first living person that’s actually listened to what he had to say since he got here. He asks about you, your story, but he doesn’t get as much as he wants. You like your smoking, you’re a special effects designer, you dropped out of high school to come out here, and you fucking love Alonzo’s hotdogs.

“Hey ‘Lonzo!” you shout, interrupting Klaus mis sentence, raising both arms above your head, the baggy sleeves of your jacket falling closer to your elbows.

“How’s my kid doin?” The man shouts back. A tall man, with heavy brows and a mustache. “And who’s this?”

“My friend Klaus here just directed a movie! With Vivian Clarke, and the kid’s never had a hotdog! Can you believe it!” Your footfalls come quicker, starting to jog as you clear the end of the block, Klaus starts to shuffle quicker to catch up. When he gets to see the man up close. clear chocolate brown eyes greet him. He looks pretty trustworthy, Klaus thinks, Like Santa Claus, or John Stamos. Basically, like anyone but Dad or Viv.

Alonzo asks all about Klaus’ recent accomplishment, not exactly something he wants to talk about, but he likes that Alonzo is genuinely curious and polite. The only thing you say is “extra relish, on both. Big shot director pays.” during the conversation, focusing more on finishing your cigarette and stubbing it out with the toe of your boot. Klaus looks down and the cigarette butt leaves no trace on the concrete.

“So back there,” he says as you wait for your dogs to be handed over, “That cigarette business, are you a magician?”

“Nah,” you say, not fully meeting his gaze, “I’m a Libra.”

You nod at the guy as he finally pulls the dogs over the edge of the cart he operates. Extra relish, just like you asked. When he places the hotdog in Klaus’ hands, the redhead’s eyes go wide. Guess he wasn’t kidding about never having relish, you think.

“Huh,” he starts, dumbfounded by the hunk of grease and meat and relish in his hands, “I’m a Libra too, actually.”

“Guess that’s something about balance or something,” you say, effectively ending the conversation again by opening your mouth as wide as you can to accommodate the sheer mass of one of Alonzo’s hotdogs.

He looks at the meal, his first and probably only for today, and then takes your lead, opening his mouth as wide as he can before finally chomping down on a huge bite of it. The bite is… heavenly. Pickled vegetables and chutneys exploding on his tastebuds, the coolness of it contrasting with the fresh off the grill meat. No offense to mom or Pogo, but none of their cooking could ever hold a candle to this street hotdog.

“Good, yeah?” Your voice, distorted by a mouth full of food, breaks his almost nirvana like trance.

“So good,” he tries to say, mouth just as full as yours. He finishes chewing, swallows with a huge gulp.

“You got any more food spots to show me?”

#my work #klaus hargreeves x reader

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y0itsbri · 3 years ago

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🍺, 🧑🏻‍🦰, 😠

benja! hello! thank you for the ask! 💘💘 (sorry these got kinda (very) long and some more fic-ish than hc-ish but i had fun with it)

🍺 - drunk headcanon

lately, debbie has been flooding the gallagher fam groupchat with pictures of cocktails and mixed drinks that she's been trying from the new lesbian bar she's been going to. carl tells her no one gives a shit, but she just tells him to fuck off. ian always sends a thumbs up emoji in response to the photos.

"wonder what's in that one," mickey pondered from their couch, zooming into the most recent picture like somehow the ingredients were written on an ice cube.

"looks like 1.5 oz empress gin, 4 oz ginger beer, juice of 1/2 a lime, 1/4 oz monin desert pear syrup, and mint, for garnish, of course," ian confidently rattled off.

mickey's eyebrows shot up to his hairline, "the fuck are you? the lesbian drink whisperer?"

ian chuckled at the accusation, "found the recipe on pinterest. 's something called the prickly pear gin buck."

"on penny trust what now?"

"pinterest -- a website where you pin your interests," ian smirked like he was the most clever motherfucker on the planet.

"alright, fuckin' martha stewart over here."

"wanna make it sometime?"

"make what?"

"the 'lesbian' drink."

"nah, man, too fuckin' fruity and won't even get me drunk."

"yeah, well we're fucking fruity, mick."

mickey sent ian a death glare.

ian threw his hands up in mock surrender and a teasing glint, "alright, alright, but you like it sweet, so i bet you'd like it."

"yeah, i like your sweet ass alright, c'mere, dork."

"hey, mick, look what i got!"

"more toothpaste?"

"shit! i knew i was forgetting something... but, uh, no, i splurged on some things to make that drink debs sent that week."

ian looked so damn excited about this, he couldn't even make fun of him.

"double the gin. if i'm drinking it, i better get buzzed."

"done."

"and you're not tellin' fuckin' anyone about this."

ian paused too long.

"gallagher," mickey said sternly. gallagher. he wasn't messing around.

"aaaanyways, let's get it cookin', good lookin'."

for all it was worth, it was fucking delicious and mickey got more than a little buzzed. he woke up the next morning... or afternoon rather, with several notifications from the gallagher groupchat.

shit. he was gonna fuckin' murder ian.

ian had sent an artistic photo of the purplish drink topped with a mint garnish and another of mickey, blissfully unaware of the photo being taken while sipping his second? third? drink, cradling it dear.

deb: looks great guys! so good, right! 🥂

lip: mickey sure seems to think so huh? ;)

liam: mickey's gonna kill you for this, ian

carl: rip fly high bro 💀🕊️

despite the teasing from his brother-in-laws, mickey really did enjoy the drink and the excitement ian had putting it all together. debbie, ian, and mickey all start a new groupchat called 'gallabitches getting tipsy🍹' where they share all their new recipes without judgement. they later added tami to the group, not being able to drink during her pregnancy, but living vicariously through them.

👨‍🦰 - ian is tall and likes to manhandle headcanon

the only cabinet in the kitchen that's tall enough for their boxes of cereal is above the refrigerator. this is, of course, no problem to ian who is practically eye level with it. mickey, however, has a little more difficulty.

he thought he was alone in the kitchen, he had left ian finishing getting ready in the bathroom, when he wanted the goddamn lucky charms.

mickey ungracefully climbed on top of the countertop and acquired the beloved box of sugary cereal. right then, he noticed he'd been caught -- ian leaning against the kitchen wall, amused as all hell.

ian stalked over, "can't reach, baby?"

"got it just fine, thanks." but mickey didn't make any effort to get down.

"hey, you're finally taller than me, never thought i'd see the day."

"fuck off."

"hmmm, dunno if i like this," ian said, looking up at mickey, "might have to do something about it."

"yeah? whatcha gonna do about it, big guy?"

in a swift motion, ian nudged mickey's legs apart a bit and held them on either side of him. mickey threw the box of cereal god knows where, fuck the cereal, and complied, wrapping his legs around ian's torso and his arms around ian's neck.

"oh, you'll see."

😠 - jealous headcanon (also hi @gardenerian , here's a little bit of gardener ian content for you🍅)

ian starts bonding with one of his neighbors about their plants in the community garden at their apartment. mickey was totally on board with ian's rants about his tomatoes and peppers, but all mickey can hear lately is julie this and julie that.

"julie bought this new fertilizer for me to use on my plot! she said it'll double the amount of tomatoes we get this year!"

"fuckin' great."

ian frowned, "i thought you were excited about the garden."

"i am."

"then why doesn't it sound like that?"

"julie just sounds like she likes you a bit too much is all."

"julie?"

"yeah, man, buyin' you shit, now. why doesn't fucking julie just suck your dick while she's at it?"

"what the fuck are you going on about now, mick?"

"you don't even wear your ring down there! i bet the bitch is just trynna get in your pants."

"mickey."

"no, it's cool, i get it, whatever."

"mickey. i don't wanna lose the ring in all the fuckin' dirt, but i promise julie knows all about you -- about us."

"yeah?"

"of course," ian crowded mickey's space a bit, judging how much his husband was really mad at him. he tilted his head down, "come down there with me next sunday, yeah? there's nothing to worry about."

mickey considered for a moment. he would love to size the bitch up, even if he had to wake up a bit earlier.

"fine."

"mmmm, good."

the following sunday, true to plan, mickey followed ian down to his garden plot. he'd been down here before, of course, but never early enough to chat with julie. he couldn't see her now, though, just some white-haired old lady in a big hat with an orange cat perched on her lap.

"ian, darling, good morning!"

"hey julie, good to see you!" ian said smiling as he crouched down to pet the cat's head, "you too, george." the cat purred against his hand.

oh.

"this is my husband, mickey. he was finally up early this morning, so i made him tag along."

"oh, what a pleasure, dear," julie smiled warmly, "i've heard so much about you."

"uh, yeah, ditto." mickey definitely didn't expect this -- she was genuinely sweet. she kind of reminded him of his great aunt back in ukraine.

"remind me to give you boys my new recipe for lemon tarts..." she trailed off.

mickey sat himself on a red modern-style chair as the two chatted the latest drama of some pests on antonio's plants and how sarah hadn't been out in weeks to water.

julie nudged the cat off her lap as she gestured for ian to follow her to one of the flower beds. george made his way over to where mickey was sitting.

"they're some of the good ones, huh?" mickey addressed the cat.

george slow blinked in return as he flopped over on the pavement.

they basked in the early morning sun, watching ian water both his plot and julie's as they laughed about something he couldn't hear.

he smiled. he could get used to sunday mornings like this.

#ask #mrsinistertype #shameless #gallavich #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #ian x mickey #shameless headcanon #gallavich headcanon #debbie gallagher #my posts

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deniigi · 4 years ago

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Jack and the other folks at the gym; how they met, what their relationships are like, how they are with Matt etc.

For you, anon. I have an old fic that answers all of these questions.

It’s written from the perspective of Jack’s best friend and sparring partner Rudy DeLuca.

Title: Tape

Summary: There were two generations of devils at Fogwell’s Gym

Warnings: child abuse, physical abuse, references to drug use and suicide/suicide attempts, and foster care

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

There was a famed baby at the gym at the moment and Rudy was scheming how to get it into his arms when the old man caught him leaning on the front desk and told him that he had two whole grandbabies waitin’ for him at home.

Matty took that moment to fly in from the back room where he’d been harrassing the shit out of the new ‘clerk’ (as Fogwell called him) to ask if Tina had finally popped.

Rudy was caught off guard by the image of Tina beating the shit out of Matt for that and then by the wave of nostalgia that the kid’s sudden enthusiasm bought.

“Well, look who’s here?” he drawled instead, slowly turning around towards the beast. “Where you been, neighbor?”

Matt beamed at him.

He looked good.

Happy.

Far, far too happy.

Rudy squinted.

Matt waited a beat, then scrambled back into staff entrance and knocked shit over on the desk back there in his haste to go hide behind Fogwell.

Uh-huh.

Yeah.

That’s right, troublemaker, go hide behind Grandpa. He’ll protect you, you little shit.

The new gym baby was a full two months old. He was fat and grumpy and his papa’s pride and joy already. Rudy managed to snag an opportunity to get the thing into his arms when Bert and Kenny came in, signaling for the youths that the senior citizen shift had begun.

Fogwell was the most distinguished of the senior citizens, but, of course, he would wait his turn until the rest of them had finished lavishing attention upon his fiftieth great-grandbaby.

Baby’s papa was proud as a peacock.

“His name’s Henry,” he told Rudy, while Henry wrinkled his nose and eyes up at him.

Henry.

Ehn.

Terrible name.

“He looks like a John,” Rudy said.

Papa, who Rudy had forgotten the name of at least six times since he’d joined the gym, laughed.

“I thought about callin’ him Jack,” he said. “But my girl drew the line there.”

Ah.

Right.

This was that kid.

Kenny had gathered everyone into a group huddle in the changing room the other week to explain seriously how they all needed to avoid the fuck out of this guy. He’d said in a whisper that the guy was one of them people into vintage shit.

A hipster, he meant.

A fuckin’ hipster in their midst.

God, there were more and more of them in the gym every day.

Rudy lifted an eyebrow at baby Henry.

He didn’t deserve to be called Henry. He really did look more like a John. But, for the sake of the dead, Rudy decided that he’d squint for as hard and long as it took for him to become a Henry.

---

Fogwell’s had been legendary back in the day for producing pro boxers out of good-for-nothin’, trouble-makin’ guys with no other prospects.

Fogwell was that general from Mulan who made men out of boys (and the occasional girl. And the most recent kid who said that they weren’t a guy or a gal and if anyone wanted to throw down about it, they were posting their number on the cork board by the front desk).

Back in Rudy’s youth, that had been appealing as hell. And so he’d had a swagger on into the place, thinking that maybe he would pop his guns a bit in Fogwell’s direction and get the polishing he needed to make enough money to buy his girl a ring.

On the upside, Fogwell had, in fact, noticed him. But the downside was that Rudy had had no fucking clue what that actually meant, and so three years later, he’d found himself smoking only twice a week instead of every day, drinking goddamn protein shakes, and doing a daily fuckin’ jog like a military brat.

Fogwell had no time for dumb shit. He didn’t care if you wanted to kill yourself slowly with whatever vice you picked from the basket, but if you walked into the ring with his name on your back, then you would disgrace that name on pain of divine retribution.

It was way easier just to get one step ahead of the guy’s nit-picking than to suffer his judgemental silence.

That had been Fogwell back in the day, and that was still Fogwell in the now.

But as with any force of nature, even if the old man had planted his feet and announced his intention to rest there in that place for the next two millenia, the world around him still carried on spinning around.

Fogwell’s wasn’t just a facility for churning out pros these days. It wasn’t just legendary, now.

It was a fuckin’ institution.

God help them.

They were a tourist destination. Ghost hunters, folks on buses, sports fans, teen girls with a mighty need for a vintage-lookin’ selfie. You name it. They pressed their noses up against the yellowed glass to watch the people inside break their bodies down to build them up into something money-making.

It wasn’t an unwarranted curiosity, to be fair.

Fogwell had produced twenty pro boxers in the last several decades who’d really made it. Like, really, really made it.

Bert was one of them—to literally every one of the senior citizens’ surprise.

Bert had been a empty-headed wise-guy with a porn-stache at best way back when. And like, don’t get Rudy wrong, he was still an empty-headed wise-guy. He was just an empty-headed wise guy with a head like a helmet and a whole lot of money now.

Not that you’d have known it from lookin’ at him.

Bless him.

He was paying college tuition for all his kids and he was helping the older ones vet kindergartens with tuition or what the fuck ever, doing all that he could so that those babies didn’t have to live life out of Kraft Mac ‘n Cheese boxes like him.

Bert had made it. That was the dream.

The dream was just that, though. A shot in the dark. A drop in a bucket. Kenny had done alright, just like Rudy had done alright. They’d had their ten minutes of time in the spotlight. Had made enough to get by. Had made enough to be comfortable in Hell’s Kitchen. To retire and become personal trainers or sports commentators or whatever the fuck opportunity jumped up in their faces.

A lot of fellas hadn’t made it, though. And then there were the Almosts.

Jackie had been an Almost, god rest his soul.

This new hipster kid at the gym with his baby had latched onto Jack’s image, found in old magazines and grainy footage, and had decided that that whole vibe fit the image that he wanted to live in.

It made Rudy sick. It made Kenny angry—hence the group huddle.

There were about seven of them left who’d both known Jackie and who still used the gym on the regular. Eight if you included Fogwell.

Nine if you included Matty.

Jesus fuckin’ help them.

This dumbass hipster kid didn’t even know who Matty was. Most of the newcomers didn’t. He was just some bright, perky blind guy to them. He was Center-Left-Second-Back bag. That was his bag.

And he was good.

He was a curiosity to the newcomers and the people pressed against glass—one of a handful of middle-weights in a sea of heavyweights. He didn’t look like everyone else. He wasn’t packing muscle like everyone else. He was lithe and coiled and looked, honestly, a little out of place to folks who didn’t know the gym as Home #2.

He was interesting to the newcomers mostly because he was 100% Fogwell’s favorite. Fogwell doted on him by ribbing him and bullying him viciously, by bumping into him and throwing him off mark left and right, and all the while, Matty just beamed.

The newbies thought he got preferential treatment because he was blind. But that wasn’t it. Matty got treated that way because that was how his grandpa told him he loved him.

---

Before Jake and Carlos and Omar and Matty, Jack had been Fogwell’s favorite up-and-coming rookie.

It had been no secret. Well. To most people.

Jack had been horrified when he’d found out.

No one wanted to be Fogwell’s favorite. That’s how you went pro whether you liked it or fucking not.

Jack had pleaded with Kenny for hours to take his place, but there was nothing that could be done. Jackie was the youngest and Jackie had come from a shit home life and Jackie would do anything and everything Fogwell told him to do because he was just that kind of sweet and respectful.

Fogwell could smell Jack’s lack of a father-figure on him like Chanelle No. 5.

He could smell it miles away.

Jack had actually been at the gym before Rudy had joined up. He’d been around since he was about seventeen. He’d come in on the heels of his big brother who wanted to go pro.

It quickly became apparent to Fogwell that Tom Murdock didn’t have what it took to be a boxer. He was just a bully. But that little brother of his, Tom’s punching bag, now he had some talent. He had the diligence and respect that the game, in Fogwell’s opinion, was severely lacking.

So Fogwell did what he did best and drove a wedge slowly between Tom and baby Jackie, separating the two of them so that he could get his mitts on Jackie and do something with him before Tom and his junkie sister took Jackie down with them.

Rudy had met Jack soon after Jack’s eldest brother had been arrested for murdering his wife and stepdaughter.

The kid was a wreck. He’d just turned 18.

He didn’t talk. He just fought and fought and fought until he cried and cried and cried. All on his own, from 5pm to 1am, at Center-Left-Second-Back.

Fogwell let him.

Fogwell came over to put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed when he finally dropped from exhaustion.

It was hard to watch.

The older guard at the time had bared their teeth and clenched their jaws as Jackie had pummeled his heart out against that bag.

No one could help him.

Everyone but Rudy, at that time, had seen the man he’d walked into the gym with. They’d seen this coming a mile away. And over a few days of that, it become clear to Rudy that Jack didn’t have a home to go back to that didn’t scream at him from morning until night. At that time, the gym for him was Home #1.

---

It took about a year, but Rudy eventually got to know this weeping, heartbroken boy from the worst side of the Kitchen.

Rudy learned from the others about the Murdocks.

They were sinners and drunkards and addicts, word had it. The police were always in and out of their rooms, taking one of the five kids or one of the parents to jail for some damn reason or another. Neighbors wasted their hard-earned money on phone calls to the police for domestic disputes and violence and so on and so on. Everyone on the streets said to be careful of the Murdocks, especially them boys.

They got the devil in ‘em.

But not Jackie, Rudy learned.

He was shy, bless him. He wasn’t suited to those others’ kind of life.

Rudy actually had felt, for the second time in his life, strong brotherly feelings around this kid. He and his own sister didn’t get on until someone threatened the other. Then it was no-holds-barred, bear-like feelings. Just them against the world.

But Jack was different. He had puppy eyes with a constant black one and perpetually chapped lips. It had never occurred to him that he could spend a buck buying chapstick. It had never occurred to him that he could have friends that he didn’t have to smile at until his face hurt.

He didn’t really get what it meant to have relationships with other people and for the first six months of their acquaintance, Jack refused to meet Rudy’s eye, much less say more than five words to him.

He was more than respectful.

He was skittish.

The other guys, who were happy to haze Rudy, warned him that he if so much as looked at that kid, Fogwell would break his bones and his career would be over before it even started.

It had definitely turned into a kind of spite thing.

Rudy had absolutely been that kind of shithead back then.

He’d started by offering to hold Jack’s bag while he worked out his aggression. That had been a mistake.

He’d caught Fogwell snickering at him about ten minutes into it, after trying and failing that whole time to find a way to plant his feet that would let him actually hold onto the bag.

Jack had noticed.

Jack had gotten flustered and freaked out bad enough that Rudy had been forced to leave him be or else he’d hyperventilate or go hide in the backroom in a cupboard or something in self-flagellation.

It took some practice and some muscle, but they got there in the end.

Jack was a great sparring partner because he did not fucking go down. It was like trying to fight a pine tree sometimes. He would, could, and did take hit after hit without batting an eye.

And when it was his turn for offense?

Rudy was well aware that he’d signed up to be a human punching bag, but this? This was a lot.

Fogwell critiqued the fuck out of Jack’s everything.

His form.

His posture.

His aim.

His drive.

His commitment.

His tape.

His fucking hair.

Jack thought he was like that with everyone.

Rudy loved that kid like a brother, but he wasn’t the brightest crayon in the box. Not by far.

That had become more clear when Kenny joined their mottley crew and, aggravatingly sharp, had taken to teasing Jack. That was more frustrating for Kenny than anyone else because Jackie didn’t get a single joke or jibe.

No, Jack didn’t know Seinfield. Or Friends. Or Charlie’s Angels. No, he didn’t know anything about cars. No, he didn’t know about physics or chemistry or math. What the fuck was English lit? Wait, what’s the difference between books and literature?

God.

Bless.

That.

Kid.

He wasn’t unintelligent, he just wasn’t academic.

He was sweet about it, though. The youngest of five, he had no choice but to be sweet because all his siblings called him hopeless and useless and stupid, so he had to be something and so pretty it was.

Rudy had never met someone who performed so well under pressure and around two years into their friendship and, suddenly privy to the full extent of Jack’s honestly horrific, borderline surreal upbringing, he finally got it.

But then along came Grace.

The Lord’s agent herself.

Jack was a good Catholic boy who saw a nun and dropped his eyes, but for some reason, this novice caught his gaze and he was gone.

He got dopey and dreamy the night after she and some friends had snuck out in their novice habits to see a load of guys in desperate need of the Lord hitting on each other.

It was tooth-decaying the way Jack swooned for that girl.

Her name was Margaret, she told him saucily at the church one street over from the one he’d grown up attending, but he could call her ‘Grace.’

Jack banged his melon on a locker a week later at the gym and the jolt make him realize that he was in love with her.

He cracked his head a second time with everyone watching him in a mix of pity, exhaustion, and indulgence and then scurried off to the bathroom to hyperventilate over a urinal.

“Someone go keep Baby M from drowning in a sink,” Horace Whalin, a professional beast at the start of his career, had sighed.

Everyone had looked right at Rudy.

---

Grace was the worst thing that could ever have happened to Jack.

Everyone at the gym knew it. Fogwell hated that girl with a cold passion.

She made Jack stupider than usual. Bolder than ever.

She made him think and made him question things and like, that was probably a good thing in terms of Jack’s life experience and mental health, but in terms of boxing?

Not good.

Fogwell was openly dreaming up schemes to break them up the day Jack came tearing into the gym and announced that he was getting married.

It took everything in Rudy not to start cackling right then and there. The entire gym’s necklines bulged with the effort not to fucking laugh. Fogwell went silent and blank.

He’d waved Jack in close and and when he came—because he would always come to Fogwell, no matter what—the old man set a hand on Jack’s shoulder and told him that if he brought that woman into the gym he’d kill him.

Jack stared up at him and said that they were getting married in a church, Coach. Why would he bring her to the gym?

At that point, it would have taken a saint not to laugh and the gym was full of only sinners.

---

Grace was the worst thing that had ever happened to Jack, but Matty was by far, the best thing.

Fogwell, after being vindicated upon Jack and Grace’s abrupt and tragic separation, found that Matt could be used as a motivator for his up-and-comer.

Matty, of course, played the part beautifully.

He was unfairly cute with those delicate, whispy red locks and them big hazel eyes. He was bubbly and chatty. An unrelenting troublemaker. Just a barrel of laughs.

Fogwell took to letting Jack put Matty’s carrier on a bench next to the ring or on one of the metal bleachers around the mats in the weights and sparring room. He found that if Matty started whining or crying, that Jack got twice as motivated to finish whatever task was at hand with maximum efficiency.

Matt was the best thing to ever happen to Jack’s boxing career, truly.

He also immediately became the gym’s darling because all the veterans there at that point were dads. Rudy himself had had his first girl Tina the year before, but unlike Jack, the rest of them had childcare arrangements and the money to maintain them.

---

It was just natural for people to gravitate towards the baby. Out of paternal instincts, yeah, but also because Matty was a source of constant entertainment.

He called everyone uncle until he was seven and he needed to be negotiated with to leave Fogwell be until he was nine. Fogwell didn’t mind him. Fogwell had unwittingly adopted him.

Matty didn’t meet his own uncles and grandpa. Jack couldn’t bear that. He took Matty to meet Bill, Jack’s eldest brother—the one who’d killed his wife—in jail and afterwards had been heart-broken and anxious for days.

Grace did not approve, it turned out.

Grace, who went by Maggie at that point, and who had given up her rights to be the mother of Jack’s child, remained one of Jack’s closest and dearest friends.

They still loved each other, and in Fogwell’s very correct opinion, that was nothing but trouble. He snatched Matty at every opportunity and informed him softly but firmly that he was not going to fall in love with a nun when he was big or there would be consequences.

Matt seemed to have come to understand this rule over time, but he never seemed to put together pieces as to why Fogwell was so insistent about it.

---

When Jack turned up murdered, everyone at the gym decided that it was their fault.

It was surreal.

Unbelieveable.

He’d been right there, just fine, laughing and smiling the day before. Rudy had held his bag and Jack had told him to tell the girls and Mel that he missed them.

And, in a moment of crushing realization back then, Rudy had understood the implications of those words and then remembered how good Jack had always been about smiling at people.

He knew how to make himself seem okay and unimportant. He knew how to fade into the background.

Fogwell took it hard.

He blamed himself for not recognizing how bad things had gotten at home for Jack and Matty. He blamed himself for not booking him for more jobs, for pushing him harder and harder on his form lately.

Matty was taken away by social services and his absence from the table at the gym the next day finally brought out the tears that Rudy hadn’t been able to let fall.

He tried.

He tried, he did.

Over the years, Matty had become a brother to Tina, Angie, and Penelope. He fit right in that two-year gap between Tina and Angie. Rudy had him over when Jack worked and Jack had the girls when Mel needed a break from the screaming and crying. And really, by then, everyone’s kids were everyone’s at the gym.

It wasn’t a matter of who belonged to who, it was more of a matter of when someone belonged to someone.

Rudy tried to get custody or at least foster rights. Mel gave herself an ulcer over it, trying to think of how to arrange things to make their home safe for Matt. Trying to think of how to make space for him. He could share a room with Tina. They were still young. They probably wouldn’t mind after some growing pains. But social services said that that wasn’t possible. Matt was too high-risk for them. They didn’t have enough experience with ‘his type of child.’

Which was bullshit.

Matt wasn’t high-risk, Matty was traumatized and scared and with people he didn’t know, who didn’t know him.

That was what made him high-risk.

He knew Rudy and Mel’s house. He knew their girls. He knew their neighborhood.

Still, nothing.

Fogwell himself tried. Shocked the shit out of everyone at the gym, but Social services sadly shook their heads.

By then, Matt had been placed out already.

---

Matt disappeared for five years. Just vanished completely. There was no sight of him until one day, Tina came home and said that ‘oh yeah, I saw Matty today’ while playing with her food at the dinner table.

Rudy and Mel had set down their forks.

Tina sighed and said that he was taller now, but he didn’t look good.

He looked sick, she said. With dark rings around his eyes and broken sunglasses. He’d been sleeping, leaning against the side of some stairs out in his school uniform at the Catholic highschool a few blocks away.

She’d poked at her chicken and then set down her fork and excused herself.

Rudy stroked her hair that night as she cried into her pillow for her lost brother.

---

Matt was, by fifteen, a troubled kid.

Rudy heard shouting one day from Clinton Church and stepped out to see what was happening. He was shocked to see that familiar ginger mop struggling in the arms of two cops, swearing that if these people took him back to wherever he’d come from, that he’d kill himself. He’d do it. Don’t try him.

The priest was called.

Matt was forced down to the ground and handcuffed, still fighting.

It was--it was a whole lot to see. Kenny swore softly behind him and Bert left them to go back inside. He went to the bathroom and didn’t join them out on the mats for a while.

---

Fogwell decided around then that enough was enough.

He went to the church and asked if he could borrow Matt for a while. He needed some help getting his accounts together and he knew Matt was a bright kid. Giving him a little work experience in a familiar and disciplined setting would be good for him.

But Matt wasn’t there.

---

The hospital didn’t allow anyone to visit Matt. He apparently hadn’t earned the privilege of visitors from anyone who wasn’t on his care team.

Rudy felt numb at the front desk.

Jack’s boy had tried to kill himself. He’d warned them all that he would do it.

He’d apparently screamed himself hoarse that he wanted to be with his dad in the ground.

He was still screaming.

This wasn’t the first time he’d done any of this, Rudy came to learn through a few whispered conversations with some nuns from St. Agnes.

Grace had found him after the three attempts the nuns knew of. This last one was just bad enough that she couldn’t bring him back from the edge.

Grace’s eldest younger sister had committed suicide. Grace had found her and then left home immediately become a novice. To find her own son as she’d once found her sister was cosmic and divine cruelty—enough that even Fogwell shook his head and said it just wasn’t right.

---

The first time Rudy saw Matty after the whole situation, he looked exactly as Tina said he did. Tired. With dark circles. Thin. His clothes threatened to fall off of him. They were threadbare and had holes in them here and there.

Matty didn’t talk.

He moved his head around a lot and jerked when anyone spoke to him or brushed against him, and he scrambled back and tripped sometimes if he was touched directly.

It was like looking at a smaller, thinner version of Jack all those years ago—this time with tightly bound wrists and a hospital bracelet that looked like it had been stretched and torn and chewed on.

Fogwell asked Matt if he thought he could do something with the accounts.

Matt said nothing.

Fogwell gave him a box of receipts and bits and bobs of payment cards and IOUs and Matt had frowned and put his hand into the box to touch its feathery contents. He’d lifted his face up in Fogwell’s direction and sneered.

“You can’t seriously live like this,” he’d said in a voice that almost brought tears to Rudy’s eyes. He’d heard Kenny clear his throat behind him.

---

Matty was the smartest person Rudy had ever met.

He set Fogwell’s accounts into order in an afternoon and then he fucked off for a few days, only to come back and digitize the whole thing after making the Big Man himself sit with him and read everything out individually to him as punishment for his nasty, twentieth-century ways.

Matt was disgusted with Grandpa’s living conditions.

He banged into every object in the backroom and swore like a sailor, loud enough that the folks hitting shit in the front room could hear him.

It was hard not to laugh.

“WHY?” Matt finally raged at Grandpa. “WHY. WHY. WHY?”

Grandpa shrugged.

Matt flailed at him in agitation at the lack of verbal answer and told him to get into the fartherest corner of the room and to get a pen, they were going to organize.

Matt was the reason that Fogwell’s Gym had survived for long enough to become a tourist trap.

Matt put every document in that place in order, ready for an audit. He made computer systems for payments and receipts and direct debits. He singlehandedly bullied Fogwell into the new century and made him get a card machine.

He bitched and moaned and belly-ached until Fogwell had interviewed a handful of tax people with actual, non-criminal reputations and picked one and once he was done with all that, Matt harrassed him to invest in a deep clean for the place and to make it accessible by ADA guidelines—the whole nine yards.

Matt, at fifteen, breathed new life into Fogwell’s Gym and it was kind of amazing how the place went from barely hanging on to a decent business once more.

---

After that, Matt seemed to be doing a lot better.

He didn’t have any more foster home placements. He didn’t try to hurt himself again. He decided, instead, that he was going to graduate highschool. He’d failed a fuckload of classes, though. Rudy found him despairing in the backroom over these and settled in across from him and asked to see the reports.

They weren’t good.

Matty’s teachers wrote constantly that Matt was extremely bright, but failed to participate in class or turn pretty much anything in for a grade. He slept in class. He seemed dazed. He didn’t ask for help or give any indication that he needed it.

His assigned para said that she found him challenging to work with. He was resistant to questions and seemed to be angry or, at best, uninterested in her speaking to him.

He was way behind.

Rudy had tapped the reports against the table back there and had taken a deep breath.

“It’s okay,” he told Matt. “We’ve got two years. We can make this work.”

And Matty’s head had jerked up from the table.

“We?” he’d asked in a small voice.

---

Matt really, really struggled with high school. Not because he wasn’t smart enough, but because his experience was so wildly different from other kids. He didn’t go home like they did. He went to St. Agnes’s. He didn’t play video games, he read books. He didn’t smoke cigarettes or joints. He didn’t drink. He was under constant surveillance.

He was bullied. Relentlessly.

Fogwell was quietly furious when Matt came in a few times a week to type away at the desk, inputting receipts for the new secretary to deal with later. Matt was always hurt. Always fighting.

He got his classwork done out of spite, seemingly, but then went home to the orphanage and got harrassed the whole way.

He fought his peers like the devil himself.

It was…

There was…

Something not quite right with him.

---

Bert pointed out when Matt was seventeen that he didn’t always use his stick like other blind folks. He forgot it sometimes and wandered around the gym like anyone else.

He didn’t trip over anything or keep fingers touching the wall like he usually did in other places.

They all chocked it up to him having grown up in the place.

Matt asked Fogwell to let him train.

Center-left-second-back.

That was Jack’s bag.

That was his son’s bag.

The veteran boxers all cycled through teaching Matt how to box. He knew—they all knew Matt already knew how, but there was always shit to learn.

Except that sometimes there wasn’t?

Matt seemed to already know everything that they taught him, including the nit-picky, little things. He listened to their descriptions, let them manipulate his hands and arms and hips, and then did what they asked immediately and with perfect form.

It was eerie.

It just wasn’t right. There was just something about it that wasn’t right. Rudy couldn’t put his finger on it.

---

Matt graduated highschool the year after Tina and it was only when Rudy saw the draft of the commencement program slip out of his bag on one of the benches that Rudy realized that Matty hadn’t mentioned it to anyone.

He picked up the program while Matt was attacking his bag and considered it, then did what was done in the gym and handed the program off to Fogwell who, in a booming voice, told Baby M to get the fuck over there, front and center.

Matt clung to his bag in terror at the sound. He, unlike his daddy, had the good sense to be reluctant to follow Fogwell’s orders. Eventually, with his tail between his legs, he skulked over and had his nose shoved in the program.

He pawed at it when Fogwell made him acknowledge it and mumbled something about not going.

Which was absurd.

“It’s not a big deal,” Matt said. “I’m not valedictorian or anything. It’s just highschool. And no one’s got time to go anyways, so what’s the point if it’s just me?”

God, this kid.

---

Matt’s graduation was very Catholic. Far more Catholic than Tina’s had been, but when Rudy looked over his shoulder, he was pretty sure that even a school this Catholic hadn’t been prepared for the influx of nuns hurrying down from Clinton’s church, all bustling and excited about young Matthew actually getting his diploma.

Between those four (aw, Grace. Look at you trying to play it smooth) and the seven boxing families who’d shown up, Matt was embarrassed to the point of tears. He’d hidden behind his mortarboard for the thirty minutes it took for people started calling folks up on stage.

He didn’t want to come out to take any pictures afterwards, but Tina wasn’t letting that happen. Her sisters leapt on board with the program and Rudy had managed at least one picture of the four of them smiling. Even better, he had one of Matt trying desperately to keep a smile while Fogwell stood stiffly next to him in stone-faced approval.

---

Matty was the first in the gym’s kid’s generation to graduate college, and then he was the only one to go on to law school.

It was only at that big graduation that Rudy finally saw Matt beaming like a loon—like he had up at Jack as a baby, but this time at the long-haired, chubby guy next to him.

This, legend had it, was the Roommate.

The one Matt refused to speak about to anyone at the gym.

Period.

At all.

There was no discussion.

That is, until he was forced by Fogwell standing menacingly over him in silent demand for a hug, to introduce them all to Foggy.

Foggy Nelson.

And then, just like that. It was exactly Jack all over again.

Veins bulging as everyone tried desperately not to laugh at Fogwell’s face at the realization that Matty had gone out and found a better, nicer Fog-person to be friends with.

---

Foggy Nelson—Edward Nelson from the hardware store’s son—was not fucking good enough for Matty, Fogwell decided. He’d begun a stoic campaign to introduce Matt to every available boxer’s son and daughter in the city in the hopes that a little nudge would get Matty away from all them conniving lawyer-folk. That was all fine and well with Matt because Matt, they’d all learned after a few years in his company again, was a horrendous flirt.

God, this boy.

Incorrigible.

He flirted with Tina and Angie and Penelope and got slapped every time.

He flirted with Bert’s daughter Becka.

He flirted with Becka’s husband.

He flirted with Kenny’s son’s best friend at the son’s wedding.

He flirted with the new secretary’s sister-in-law.

He was completely unstoppable.

Kenny approved.

But Kenny also asked Matt pointedly if he and his roommate had worked things out yet and that sent Matt scowling and shuffling off to go hide behind Fogwell, wherever he was, for emotional support.

---

Matt was Daredevil.

He had to be.

Everyone in the gym suspected this.

He was too good at fighting. To flexible. Too sturdy and relentless and angry to be anyone else. They all recogized his shoulders in those little blips of videos people posted online. They recognized how close he got to people from the way he get up in his bag’s imagined face.

He had some kind of superpower—some kind of 360 degree awareness was the best Rudy could describe it.

He felt like he remembered Jack freaking out about something like this a million years ago. Nattering on about super-senses in the aftermath of the accident.

Fogwell was the one who’d brought it up again after he’d noticed that Matt liked to come in at night and spar on his own.

One time, just once, he’d left one of the security cameras on, concerned that Matty might get mugged in the night on his own there.

But Matty wasn’t getting mugged anytime soon.

No, for real.

Matt was…maybe something a little beyond them.

The video Fogwell had shown the older guys before deleting it and telling everyone to mind their own fucking business had shown Matt throwing his weight at the bag—throwing legs and fists—in complicated, almost choreographed movements that spoke of lethal intent.

He moved like a weasel. Like a predator.

Like a devil.

God knew where he’d learned those moves. The boy had lived a lot of life in those few years he’d fallen off of the gym’s radar. There was no telling who he’d met or how he’d learned to be as he was, but things made a lot more sense after that.

Jackie had had a devil in him. It only made sense that his dramatic-ass kid had one, too.

Matty had made something more of himself than his daddy. In so many other things, but in this, too.

Fogwell’s Gym was protected. It was home to a devil in disguise.

---

The hipster Jack-fan appeared with baby Henry a few more times before Bert asked him if he knew that his hero’s kid, who’d lived the life baby Henry was currently living, was actually a regular at the gym.

Hipster-kid gaped and fell over himself trying to ask Bert if he could meet the guy.

Bert smirked. And then waved across the place over to where Matt had just slithered in with absurd orange sneakers that he was very proud of. He was clearly on the hunt to go show Fogwell so that he could be disgusted.

He froze when Bert called his name.

The hipster’s jaw dropped.

“Matty, come tell this man about your daddy,” Bert said.

Matt stared.

Then made a sad, aborted gesture with his free hand that said that he had very important annoyances to make of himself, so could this maybe wait?

“You’re—you’re--?” the hipster stammered.

“Matt Murdock,” Matt said hurriedly. “Great to meet you? You’re the one with the kid, right? Congrats. Have either of you seen Fogwell?”

The hipster blinked.

“Uh?” he said. “Not today?”

Matt scowled.

“He’s not escaping these,” he said, tapping his way angrily back to the door. “I got him a matching set. No one is escaping them.”

The gym at large watched him stalk back out the door, tapping away furiously, no doubt on the way down the block to Fogwell’s house.

“That’s Matt Murdock?” the hipster asked.

“Man, I thought he’d be taller,” another newbie said.

“Kid, that is the least of your problems when it comes to Matt Murdock,” Bert laughed. “Now, all of you, back to work. This ain’t a dog and pony show. Go on.”

---

#daredevil #fic #ficlet #jack murdock

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liquorisce · 4 years ago

Text

reading between the lines (High School Years, Ch 2)

pairing: eren x mikasa (shingeki no kyojin) // mild erehisu, yumihisu

rating: t

summary: (modern au) Junior year is difficult, especially for Mikasa, because it turns out Eren’s decided to test the dating scene.

(banter, jealousy... and lots of feelings)

part 1 | read on ao3

A/N: this chapter has been a long time coming (5 years omg), and tbh I have a lovely anon to thank, who messaged me asking for a sequel to hsy, which made me actually want to put down my scrambled headcanons on paper. if you're reading this anon, i'm truly grateful for the push you gave me.

NOTE: although i intended a sequel, this is a COMPANION fic to chapter 1, it is meant to fill up the gaps in the story that the previous chapter didnt tell you. i hope you enjoy :)

Today was not one of Eren’s favourite days, for 2 reasons. For one, the day started off with … an encounter. Two, today they would be getting the results of their final trig assessment, which Eren knows perfectly well he didn’t have a chance of passing.

The ‘encounter’ happens pretty much without preamble.

…

“… Hey, it’s Eren, right?” He turns around from his conversation with Armin, to see the same guy from a couple of weeks ago, the one who was talking about Mikasa, and her pretty hair. (he wasn’t wrong)

“Yeah?” He does his best not to let the subconscious irritation seep into his tone.

“I think we got off on the wrong foot the other day,” the guy with the oddly horse-shaped face says, “… My name’s Jean.”

“… Nice to meet you,” he says awkwardly delivering his dishonest words.

“… So, I wanted to be straight up with you,” Jean says, cheeks oddly pink. “About Mikasa… and you. I’ve heard some rumours, and I thought it best to address it with you directly, because I really don’t want to cause any trouble.” Clearing his throat, he says, “Are you guys… y’know, together?”

It’s in the way Jean speaks, he thinks, or the way he talks about Mikasa (or even thinks of her?) - it makes him want to ram his fist right in the middle of his ugly face. And because he was too busy clenching his fists to actually respond, Armin says with a laugh, “… Ah, don’t worry, Mikasa is totally single.”

And then proceeds to wink at Jean.

Eren can barely believe his eyes and ears. And once Jean is out of earshot he hisses, “… what the fuck, Armin?”

Armin blinks up at him innocently. “What? Did I say something wrong?”

“… You didn’t have to encourage him,” Eren mumbles petulantly, when he admits to himself that Armin did, in fact, say nothing wrong.

“Erm, why not?” He sighs, “Look, I know you… worry about Mikasa,” Armin keeps his tone as neutral and veiled as possible, because worried is definitely not all Eren feels for Mikasa, “… but Jean is a good guy! And if anyone deserves attention from a good guy, it’s her.”

…

ii.

She finds him lurking near his locker, stuffing his crumpled papers in, probably wishing away their existence.

“That bad, huh?” She asks, hiding away her grin at his predictable reaction. Eren has always been predisposed too sulking - whether he was a 7-year-old who wasn’t the fastest on the field or 16-something and having just received his trigonometry results.

“… You look like you did just fine,” he mutters, not having to see the A+ on her paper to know that Mikasa had no problem acing the trig test (or any other test).

“You could just ask me for help, Eren. I could help you out for the retakes,” she offers softly, not for the first time.

He sighs. When he glances at her, dark eyes offering earnestly, he knows she means it without any pride or arrogance, but he isn’t able to suppress the prick of his own ego that has him mumbling, “… the mandatory remedial lessons should do just fine.”

…

iii.

When he shows up for class, he sees only a couple of others unfamiliar faces, so he curses under his breath at his own ineptitude towards mathematics for getting him in this situation and takes a spot at the back of the class.

The Support teacher - Erd, he calls himself, apparently too young to be addressed ‘Mr.’ or any of that - seems just as tired as the rest of them, sighing at the lack of answers, obviously frustrated at the complete lack of interest or gratitude of the teenagers in front of him.

So, 20 minutes into the 1-hour lesson, when the short blonde walks in, out-of-breath and apologetic, the sarcasm in his tone is biting. “You’ve already missed 1/3rd of this class, you might as well have stayed out entirely and practiced your cheer routines.”

Eren watches sympathetically at the visible cringe on Krista’s face and offers her an empathetic smile as she takes the seat next to him.

Later when they’ve been informed that the retake is just an assignment filled with proofs and average difficulty problems that they can do in pairs, he looks at Krista, the only known person in the room.

They weren’t that close, but they had quite a few mutual friends what with him playing basketball and her being part of the cheer team. So, when she says, “… see you at the library tomorrow evening?” with a pretty smile across her pretty features, he grins gratefully.

She doesn’t struggle with trig even half as much as he does. In fact, she seemed to be happy to do most of the work herself and explain her solutions - if he actually had the interest to understand them.

“I don’t understand,” he admits after she solves the 5th problem in a row effortlessly, “you seem to have everything down already. How come you didn’t pass the test?”

Her eyes skittered nervously away from him. “I was… sick,” she mutters. “I couldn’t really focus.”

He eyes her closely, observing the sudden change in her countenance. Usually Krista was all easy smiles, twinkle in her blue eyes. Now, she looks uneasy, unwell almost. Deciding it wasn’t his place to pry, “… Well, I guess I turned out to be the lucky one in all this,” he grins, “… I get to hang out with you and have you do my assignment.”

She rolls her eyes. To be honest, she’d enjoyed the past couple of evenings with him. Eren was easy to talk to, despite being somewhat of an airhead and being completely incapable of anything remotely math related. But regardless, he made her laugh and just about forget what happened the morning before she showed up for this test, with fresh tears choking her throat, and purpling bruises on her thighs.

“I guess you owe me then,” she quips back, smugly.

“… I definitely do,” he says smoothly, green eyes watching her in a way that makes her feel warm. “How can I make it up to you?”

Flustered, because she hadn’t expected his easy response, she mumbles, “… Dinner?” And with red cheeks hidden by her blonde bangs, she whispers, “I like pizza.”

…

iv.

She finds him at the end of the day, on one of the wooden tables outside the basketball court, chin resting in his hands, eyes glued to his laptop.

“… Hey,” she breathes, giggling when startled green eyes flash up to her, body jerking in surprise.

“Damn, you got me,” he grins, pushing his laptop away and leaning up for a brief kiss. She’s happy to return it, and she lets her fingers wind into his hair, enjoying it for a moment longer.

“Mmm,” she mumbles, “I saw you closing that browser window,” she teases, wrestling control of his laptop, “watcha lookin’ at?”

When she manages to open his browser history – much to Eren’s protest – her eyes widen. “Women’s dresses, spring collection??” She waggles her eyebrows at him.

“… It’s not for me,” he grumbles, deciding to make it painstakingly clear before Krista enthusiastically begins to tell him what dress would suit him the most – he knows his girlfriend, crossdressing would be absolutely acceptable, if not encouraged – and he watches her eyes feign disappointment.

“… Boring,” she sighs, rolling her pretty blue eyes, “I don’t see how you’re not curious about how you look in a dress,” – she gasps, hand flying over her mouth, “Wait… was that… a surprise… for me?”

“… Um,” Eren starts, intelligently, because the situation that was already awkward in his opinion, just became even more so. “Well,” he gulps, taking in the sparkle in her eyes, knowing fully well just how much she likes surprises, feeling guilty even thought he needn’t be, “itsformikasa.”

He hangs his head in apparent apology, but more so because he doesn’t want to see the disappointment flit across her features.

“… Oh.”

He chances a glance at her, and there’s no particular emotion per se, and it worries him, because she gets this faraway look in her eye sometimes, and he can’t really tell what’s going on, and they’ve only been together a few months and he’s not an expert in reading her silences –

“I see, is it for her birthday or something?” Her tone is measured, and she’s looking pointedly at the screen.

“Um… yeah.” Eren sighs, wondering what the hell was up with his own reaction. He had nothing to feel guilty about – where did that even come from anyway? – Mikasa’s his… family (or something). Shopping for her was normal. He did it every year. This isn’t something he needed to hide.

“Yeah, it’s next month,” he says, giving her a smile. There was no need for this to be awkward if he didn’t make it so. Besides, it wasn’t like he was buying her lingerie or something! (he brushed this thought aside faster than the red blush crept up his neck)

“Do you think, you could help me with it?” He blurts this out, partially in an attempt to distract the weird atmosphere, and also partially because he could really use the help.

Krista blinks. “Err, yeah. Sure.” She pulls up Mikasa’s profile on Instagram. “Let’s see,” she murmurs… Turtlenecks… Jeans… a ridiculously modest swimsuit that she wore to a pool party two years ago. The sexiest outfit on her entire profile was probably her in her tennis shorts and that had more to do with Mikasa’s undeniably ripped body than anything else.

She looks up at Eren, who’s still looking at her tentatively, green eyes unsure.

This whole thing was silly anyway, she thinks, offering him a genuine smile. He and Mikasa were close (and they lived together, which she did her best not to think about), but this wasn’t a surprise so it’s about time that it came up in some way in their relationship. In any case, she hadn’t felt any hostility from the raven-haired beauty and Eren was usually quite forthcoming about everything, so she didn’t really have anything to worry about.

“So, um, does she have a favourite colour or something?” She’s eager to kill the awkward mood and is grateful to see his shoulders visibly relax as he ponders.

“… Red, I think. Maybe, like, a darker shade. Sort of… maroon, y’know?” He thinks of the scarf he gave Mikasa when they were younger. It was a ratty, yet fluffy maroon thing which she was absolutely terrible at tying, but she wears it everywhere during the winter, even though his father had a bought her a better one at some point.

They peruse their options for a bit, and Krista picks out a deep red number, a shimmery satin one, with slinky straps and a slit that travels up an already high hemline. It wasn’t really a spring dress but more of a cocktail night outfit, and Eren is weirdly embarrassed thinking of Mikasa in it.

He eyes the screen incredulously. “… Somehow, I just can’t picture Mikasa wearing something like that.” He opens up another link, to a denim overall dress, “… now this, she would wear.”

“And that,” Krista retorts, “is why she’s still single. She has an amazing body; she should flaunt it.”

“… What would she wear it to?” Eren asks, unconvinced. (Also, what was wrong with Mikasa being single?) “… Student council meetings? Debate competitions?! I just,” –

“Parties, Eren,” she says, exasperated, “… it’s high school!”

“You know she doesn’t” –

“Drag her to some! C’mon, we’re going to be seniors soon. She’ll thank you for it!”

…

Six hours later, she’s closing up her shift at her part-time job. It’s a job she’d rather keep hidden – from her friends at school and the law – because she isn’t sure what the age policy was in these kinds of establishments. It worked out because it was close enough to home, and between her and the bartender, the tips compensated the poor wages. Plus, the bartender – a slightly older girl named Ymir with a pretty fringe and a sharp tongue – was genuinely fan to hang out with. And she was surprisingly protective of the small blonde, particularly with the rougher customers, whom Ymir scared off quite effectively with her glares.

“So,” she says, as she scrubs the counter clean, “… I helped my boyfriend buy a dress today.”

She doesn’t turn back to see her, but she can hear Ymir’s raised eyebrows as she says, cheekily, “… I didn’t realize you guys were into that stuff.”

Snorting, she replies, “Well that would be interesting. But no, it was for his, um, friend. Or something.” Or something, because sometimes Eren refers to Mikasa as his best friend, sometimes his family, and sometimes it just felt like… something else, basically.

She turns around to look at Ymir, who says nothing, continuing to rinse the rest of the glasses. “Her name’s Mikasa,” she continues, her voice getting oddly unsure, “They’ve known each other forever. They even… live together.”

“… What,” Ymir stares at her in disbelief.

“It’s not like that,” Krista finds herself sounding defensive, “Eren’s dad is her guardian… or something. Has been for some years. So, it’s not like they moved in together…”

She elects to skip the part where Eren’s dad is a doctor with Doctors without Borders and is barely home for more than a couple of months a year. She didn’t like the look Ymir was giving her anyway.

“So… they’re like brother-sister or what?”

“No,” she says, realizing that the word came out more vehement than she intended. But she knows that was definitely not the way Eren saw their relationship.

“… Krista,” Ymir starts, and the blonde can tell by the tone of her voice that she’s going to get all protective on her, “… I know you’re in high school, and… you’re dating – as you should – but you don’t have to waste your time on shady boys.”

At this she laughs because, “Eren’s not shady, he’s a nice guy,” –

“… You could get anyone you want; I mean look at you, you’re beautiful.”

The defense that was bubbling up in her throat suddenly stilled, because there’s something about the way Ymir just said that – called her beautiful – earnestly, quietly, and it made her feel funny. It took her breath away for a very brief second and replaced it with a warm flush that creeps up her neck.

It’s strange, she’s heard it before from so many boys with obvious motivations; Eren’s always calling her pretty, and complimenting her eyes or whatever… But when Ymir said it, and looked at her like that, honey brown eyes, deep with unnamed emotion, all she could do was avert her eyes.

…

vi.

It’s 7pm and the library’s home only to the nerds by now. The librarian is lax (and underpaid) enough to ignore the low buzz of two over-enthusiastic AP chemistry students that grates on Mikasa’s ears.

Ordinarily she’d just plug her earphones in and ignore the world to focus on the assignment at hand. But today she accepts anything to distract her from the scene earlier at home. And even though Armin’s sitting right next to her, supposedly doing his own thing, she doesn’t miss the worried glances he sends her every now and then, which she really doesn’t want to address.

Her feelings for Eren were a well-known secret by now, just as well-known as the fact that he clearly didn’t return those feelings, so she wasn’t particularly in the mood for Armin’s indulgent pity… regardless of how well-intentioned it was.

So, when its 8pm and the librarian is shooing them out, and she bumps into Jean, she’s grateful for the few extra minutes of conversation surrounding absolutely nothing important.

When they continue to the parking lot, their conversation having progressed from awkward conversation starters to an animated discussion on Jean’s tennis form, Armin’s well and truly realized that he has no place here.

After Armin’s said his goodbyes and Mikasa recognizes that she doesn’t mind staying away from home and possibly Eren and Krista in the middle of their 5th round, she asks Jean, “… so do you like Chinese food?”

…

When she walks in a little after 10 pm, cheeks cold from the night air, there’s a small grin on her cheeks, because she’s made a new friend today, whose company she genuinely enjoyed.

But when she enters the living room to see Eren fast asleep on the couch, she finds herself staring in the face of the reality she’d tried so hard to escape. It’s difficult to ignore the ruffled quality of his brown hair, mussed up in a way that could only have been achieved by someone (a very blonde, very beautiful someone) raking their hands through it.

She can’t help the wave of irritation that sweeps through her - so she doesn’t bother to soften her footsteps as she walks up the wooden stairs.

Minutes later, she hears his sleepy voice at her door. “Hey,” he says, and she can hear the smile in his voice, “you were out pretty late, so I left you some dinner. We made pasta, it’s not as good as yours but,” -

“… I ate already,” she says, tone clipped.

“Oh.” He’s quiet, just watching her put her things away, and there’s irrational tears pricking at her eyes, anger, and frustration that she knows she doesn’t have the right to, so she doesn’t turn to acknowledge him. “… Mikasa, are you…,” he clears his throat, “… is something wrong?”

When she says nothing, he sighs, turning, “… Well, if you want to talk about it, you know I’m always here,” -

“… Could you please go over to Krista’s house next time?”

She colours, surprised at herself for her outburst of honesty. But her blush pales in comparison to Eren’s as he processes what she’s saying. “… This is my house,” he sputters, “… I don’t think it’s unreasonable for me to want to bring my girlfriend over.”

“Well, it’s not just ‘bringing her over’, is it?”

His eyes widen in disbelief. “… What I do with Krista, in my personal space, is definitely not your business, Mikasa.”

“It is when I can hear it, Eren,” she retorts, as he shuts the door forcefully behind him.

…

vii.

It’s been two weeks since that… confrontation, and Mikasa’s barely spoken to him since.

She leaves before he does, makes sure dinner’s left out on the stove for him, whether he needs it or not, and locks her door when she’s done. And although he’s found himself staring awkwardly at that shut door multiple times, he’s never had the courage to actually knock.

He simply cannot comprehend this situation because despite the numerous arguments they’ve had in the past - it was always him, whining about something like a petty child and sulking till he got his way - she’d never truly been mad at him. And she’d never, ever, gone days without talking to him. And as he stares at the locker next to his (it was Mikasa’s) with a horrible ache in his chest, he is well and truly sure that he loathes this situation.

So, when small hands reach around his waist, enveloping him in a tight embrace, his subconscious reaction is to jerk back in annoyance. “I didn’t realise it was you,” he murmurs apologetically, rubbing her hands softly.

“… Who else would it be?” Krista asks, somewhat thrown off by this mood that had been festering for days now.

“You ask some very valid questions there, babe,” he mutters, a distracted half-smile on his face.

Taking a deep breath (determined to shake him out of his pensive aura), she whispers, “… You know, I don’t have work today.” She leans against him, reaching up to murmur in his ear, “we could hang out at yours for a while, if you want?”

She makes it clear what she means by “hanging out” by the way she presses up against him, and even though he’s responded with fervent enthusiasm to a similar invitation in the past, today he just averts his gaze, awkwardly.

Swallowing the rejection with a graceful exterior, she puts an arm’s length of distance between them. “… What’s going on, Eren? Your head’s been somewhere else all week.”

And before he starts to stay that it’s nothing, just that he has some stuff going on, she says, “… does this have something to do with Mikasa?”

His green gaze jerks up at her, startled with unfortunate honesty. “… I haven’t seen you talk to her all week.”

“…I,” he starts, but his throat closes up, for some reason, unsure whether he should really tell her what happened. He doesn’t want to put her in the middle of something that was clearly between him and Mikasa.

But with every passing second, the guilty look on his face only begins to feed the fears that she had successfully kept dormant all this while. “… Did something happen between the two of you?”

And when he looks into her eyes, bright blues seeping insecurity, he says, hurriedly, “… wait, I hope you aren’t thinking that we,” - he inhales sharply, wondering how he manages so successfully to upset the women in his life - “God, no. We had a misunderstanding, that’s all. She said something, I was pretty rude to her, and I shouldn’t have been.”

“And,” he murmurs, admitting it to himself, finally, “I’ve just taken too long to apologize.”

…

She’s barely finished washing the vegetables for dinner, when she hears the thud of the front door closing loudly.

(She remembers Carla reprimanding him every time, for not being gentler)

Mikasa has managed to avoid Eren successfully these past days, because she knows his schedule, knows that despite his complete lack of organization, he’s fairly predictable. And with his recent interest in a particular cheerleader, he almost invariably never comes home before 8.30 PM. So, when she hears him enter their kitchen at little over 7, she isn’t prepared.

She isn’t prepared because she’s been quite cowardly, saying things that she had no business saying, and then being unable to own up to it, unable to apologize to him. Because she knew that when she looks at him, she’ll feel the way she feels right now - taking in the sight of him, drizzle droplets fresh in his brown hair, as he runs a hand through it, his mouth twisting into an awkward grin. She knew she’d realize that her feelings for Eren were never really much of a choice, they just were.

“… I brought your favourite dumplings from Li’s,” he announces. “And I brought an extra serving of the spicy soy sauce so we don’t have to fight over who gets the last bit.”

…

He’s grateful for the small smile that forms on her face when she accepts the dumplings (the peace treaty as he calls it in his head), and for the small banter that she indulges him in as they eat.

After they’re stuffed with dumplings and inconsequential conversation, he clears his throat, because he remembers he came home early tonight with a certain conviction.

But as she does with most things, she beats him to it. “… Eren, about the other day,” she looks at him earnestly, “… I had no right to demand that of you. I’m sorry.”

And when he’s still quiet, she mumbles quickly, “I don’t know what got into me that day, honestly, I,” -

“Don’t apologise, Mikasa,” he says, a strange disquiet taking over him as he replays her words, “… the last thing I want, is to make you feel uncomfortable.” Or to make you feel like you can’t demand what you want from me.

This is the part that settles into him slowly, that somehow, the one person in his life that he’s always felt he could ask anything of, could demand anything of, and actually receive it without fail… she didn’t feel that she could count on the same from him. And it twisted painfully inside of him.

“I appreciate that, Eren. But honestly, I’ll get used to it… so don’t worry.” She smiles, in that genuine way of hers, small lips, curving shyly, “… and who knows, maybe someday I’ll want to ‘bring someone over’ too.”

She laughs as she does the air quotes and even though he manages a small grin in response, all he can say, without really meaning it, is –

“Yeah… Of course, yeah.”

…

viii.

She takes her frustration out on the cash register. “… Damn thing doesn’t open when I need it to, and doesn’t close when I want it to,” she mutters under her breath.

“You just need to show it some love,” Ymir says, amused, promptly closing the problematic register without any difficulty. “… Go sit, I’ll close up here.”

She does as she’s told, pouting slightly, but she’s grateful for the older girl’s help and understanding. “So… want a beer before I close the tap?” Ymir asks with a wink.

“You need to stop offering underage girls alcohol,” Krista whispers, scanning the room hastily.

The brunette rolls her eyes. “You need to stop with the innocent act every time. You’re a hot cheerleader for god’s sakes, everyone knows what goes on at your high school parties,” -

“Ok ok,” she acquiesces, suppressing the blush at Ymir’s offhanded compliment and deciding that that there was no point in panicking every time they did this, “… but only if you join me.”

“Cheers,” Ymir says, offering her glass to Krista’s and taking a generous gulp. “So, tell me. Boy trouble, again?”

Krista nurses her drink slowly before taking a sip.

To Krista, Eren was a breath of fresh air. He didn’t hover, he didn’t foam at the mouth every time she spoke to another guy, didn’t hound her if she didn’t pick up his phone call.

Does he even care? Ymir had asked her once scathingly, but she had disregarded it, grateful for the freedom she felt in his embrace. Freedom from toxic attachment, from past trauma or unresolved baggage like the one she was destined to carry. When she was around him, she had felt different. Lighter almost, as if this persona that she had created for herself could actually have a shot at happiness after all.

But lately she’d begun to wonder if she’d just been fooling herself… again. She’d begun to question if she had just convinced herself to see the promise of something that was never there.

“… I thought this guy was one of the good ones,” Ymir says, watching Krista closely.

“He is…” she sighs, “He is one of the good ones. It’s just…” she trails off, unsure if she should give voice to her thoughts. “Ah fuck it, I’m just feeling a little insecure, it’ll be fine…”

“… Is this about that sexy flatmate of his?”

She winces, feeling exposed. It often felt that way with Ymir. Like there was no point to any of the barriers she had worked so hard in constructing.

“She is attractive,” Krista admits, begrudgingly. “… I’m only surprised Eren hasn’t noticed that.”

“… But that’s what you’re worried about, aren’t you? That he has noticed that of late?” Ymir narrows her eyes at Krista. “You should just ask him about it!”

“I did,” she states defensively, “… and he said there was nothing,” -

“… Oh, sure there’s nothing. I can’t believe he thinks he can lie to you and get away with it,” -

“Ymir, I trust him, he’s my boyfriend,” -

“But that’s the problem with you. You just trust everyone, and you let them walk all over you. You did this with Reiner and now with,” -

“Ok,” she whispers, “Stop it, Ymir.”

“… Krista, you need to trust your gut about this sort of thing. If your gut is telling you that he’s a lying asshole, then you should just dump his ass and,” -

“… See this is why I didn’t want to tell you about this,” she cries, her voice rising In frustration. Because this is how it’s always been with Ymir, no one she dates is ever good enough, no decision she makes is ever smart enough.

“You’re always shitting on my boyfriends. And I know you were justified about the last one, but,” her voice cracks just a little bit, because at the end of it all, she just feels weak, “… it feels like you’re just taking a massive crap on me as well.”

“I didn’t mean,” Ymir starts apologetically, brown eyes remorseful, “… look, that wasn’t my intention.”

She takes her hand, slowly, lets her long fingers intertwine with Krista’s smaller, dainty ones. The crumpled expression on Krista’s features has her regretting ever opening her big mouth. But she was tired of seeing one person after another, enter her Krista’s life, and undo the progress she was trying so desperately to make.

“… The truth is,” she takes a deep breath, ready to unleash a truth that’s been stifled for so long, she can’t even remember when it first sprouted, “I think you’re pretty fucking amazing. And I see you wasting all your time and your feelings on these stupid boys who don’t deserve you.” The words come out quickly, rushed almost. A sharp contrast to how long they’ve festered in Ymir’s chest, growing and growing until these feelings knew no reason.

Ymir doesn’t look at her, she keeps her gaze focused on Krista’s hand, afraid of what might happen if Krista understands the depth of feeling behind her words. But more important than her feelings, there were some things she wanted Krista to see clearly.

“Did you tell him about your father, Krista? What he does to you when his wife isn’t looking?”

Krista tugs on her hand, a wave of unbridled panic spreading at the mention of her father. “I trusted you with that information, Ymir, you promised you’d never bring it up,” -

“… Did you tell him your real name?”

She can’t answer this question, even though she knows the answer, knows it’s an emphatic ‘no’ - but she cannot answer because there’s an overwhelming lump in her throat, and it’s taking everything from her to barely keep it together.

“… Let go of me, Ymir,” she pleads, and that’s when Ymir loosens her grip.

“… You trusted me to keep quiet about your secrets - and I’m fine with that. I’m fine with doing anything you ask of me,” her teeth grit together, because she doesn’t know, Krista doesn’t know just how much she would do.

“You asked me not to do anything about the fact that your father is hurting you, and it even though it kills me, I listened to you. But now I see you hurting yourself in this farcical relationship with fabricated feelings for some boy who doesn’t treat you the way you deserve, and I don’t know if I can be quiet about that anymore.”

And because it’s grown too large, too much to keep inside of her anymore, she whispers, “I love you, Historia. And if you want me to let go of you, I will. But,” she brushes her lips gently against Krista’s cheek, “… You can trust me with your secrets, and your heart, if you’d let me, because I could take care of you.” She feels a warm tear roll down Krista’s cheek and her heart clenches, “… I could make you happy.”

…

ix.

“… I really appreciate you making time for this,” she murmurs, as she watches him lay the white lilies at her parent’s grave.

He always remembers, without her prompting, because the first time he’d come with her, she’d spent hours crying at their gravestone, telling him tear-filled anecdotes of the dishes her Mama cooked, the bedtime stories her Papa told, the flowers that they used to grow in their garden together (white lilies).

“C’mon Mikasa,” he rolls his eyes at her, “… we do this every year. Why wouldn’t I make time for this?” And why the hell are you thanking me?

She can’t really explain it to him, the possibly childish notion that she thought he might be too busy with his girlfriend to remember the death anniversary of her parents. She regrets doubting him, regrets that of late she’s been so clouded by petty jealousy, that she hasn’t truly appreciated how little he’s changed around her.

“It’s ridiculous,” she confesses, softly, “… you’ve given me everything. A home… A family.” She smiles at him, somewhat blurry. “But I can’t help it, every year on this day, my mind always goes back to that… moment. I lost them… in what felt like the blink of an eye.”

He tenses, as he always does when he sees her upset, or shedding a tear. There is a fundamental part of him that deeply despises the sadness on her features; it makes him feel helpless. So, he does the only thing he can - he wraps an arm around her, tucking her face into his shoulder as she snuggles into him.

“I miss them every day. But you saved me, Eren,” she whispers, dark eyes looking up at him with a gratefulness that he has never known how to accept, and never felt worthy of. “… and now I have you.”

Her voice trails off, almost wistful. “… I guess the world really can be cruel but beautiful at the same time.”

…

When he stops to think about it, he supposes it really is ridiculous it took them so long to get here. And by here he means - Mikasa wrapped securely in his arms, in his lap, on their couch, taking advantage of the privacy they’ve had all along.

He feels her tongue flick against his - it makes him shiver - and he can do little more than just wrap himself around her tighter, and sigh into her kiss. Her fingers make their way into his hair, cradling his head, pressing sweet kisses on the side of his mouth, on his jaw, and on the sensitive spot beneath his ear.

And because Mikasa’s always been a quick study (she’s learnt what he likes, what he’s weak for), he stills her exploration (very reluctantly) before she goes too far.

“Are you okay…?” He whispers, rubbing a thumb along the dried tear stains on her cheek – a reminder of her tears, of knowing the pain that he’d caused her, bubbled quietly within him, having been quelled temporarily by the glorious feeling of having her in his arms.

She laughs, shaking her head, “… I love you. I can’t believe I finally get to say it.” She rests her forehead against his, a happy smile forming on her lips.

“… You could have said it ages ago; you know. No one asked you to keep it inside for this long.” Even though he teases her with his words, his lips drift back to hers, brushing softly, unable to stay away for too long.

“… Well, you never know, I actually might have said it. If it wasn’t for, you know, you having a girlfriend.” He senses the eye roll, the teasing lilt of her voice, but he can’t help but regret the time he wasted. Because even though Krista was a dear friend, and there were no ill intentions there, now that he is here, chest to chest with the girl he loves, he only wishes he’d been here sooner.

“You’re going to use that against me forever, aren’t you?”

She grins in response. “… I have a question though.”

“Shoot,” he murmurs, nibbling against her lower lip.

“… Why’d you guys break up?”

He groans, kissing her jaw testily. “… Do you really want to go into that right now?”

She hesitates, torn between potentially ruining the mood and needing to know what happened. God knows, she had spent countless nights losing sleep over the details anyway. “If you don’t want to talk about it, it’s okay, I guess…”

“It’s fine,” he says quickly, realising that if he wanted to set a precedent where she could ask him anything, then it‘s best he starts now, “… She’s in love with someone else. A girl, actually.”

Her eyes widen, not having expected that turn of events. “… Please tell me you didn’t ask for a threesome.”

“What the fuck, Mikasa, of course not!” He pulls back, offended.

“Good,” she murmurs cheekily, “I’ve raised you well.”

“Hmm,” he hums, “Speaking of ‘raising me’, you should probably stop saying stuff like that. Do you know that Connie asked if you were like a ’sister’ to me?”

He grins, seeing the shocked expression on her face. That’s exactly how he had felt when he was posed that question, with a little mortification added to the mix. “… Is that really how everyone sees our… relationship?”

His fingers drift to hers, where they rest on his chest. “We’ve been living together for a while now,” he caresses her knuckles absentmindedly, “Kids our age… they don’t really understand it, I guess. Anyway, it doesn’t matter.”

“My turn: I have a question for you,” he murmurs. This is a question he’s long considered, stopped only by his embarrassment, fielding it from others only to put the vaguest labels on it.

“… What am I to you, Mikasa?”

The question throws her, because even though she’s told him candidly how she feels, that she loves him, she always has, he is asking her, right now, to define their relationship.

The very notion, the expression that flits on her tongue, bubbles up in her heart with an exciting warmth, even though she hopes this is just temporary, that it will grow, that Eren is so many things and will be so many things to her that she cannot possibly define right now - “… My boyfriend, of course.”

- fin -

A/N: i've been really nervous to post em, because its just been so long, and the writer that wrote chap 1 is different from the one that wrote chap 2, and honestly i dont even know if there are inconsistencies. so my request to you, dear reader, is to please let me know if i have made any fuck ups in writing this - or if you have any ideas for pacing, or storytelling that could possibly help me improve.

also there will be a chapter 3 focusing on eremika’s sexual exploration~

#eremika #erehisu #yumihisu #eren jaeger #mikasa ackerman #shingeki no kyojin #liquorisce fanfiction

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sometimesiwritebadly · 4 years ago

Text

Doctor Agent Super Genius (Spencer Reid x Reader)

Summary: You’re in a band and you wrote a song about Spencer.

Warnings: Language.

Notes: Not me going from posting nothing for months to posting two fics in one day. Nope, I’d never do that. Also this is kinda a Dumbass!Reader x Spencer, but like not really. That’s how I started it but it didn’t really end like that so whatever. Fluff, as usual. Spencer blushes way more than any normal person.

Word Count: 2.4k

Masterlist

You and Spencer couldn’t be more different.

Well, that’s not entirely true. You’re the same age, live in the same city. You both like reading and sci-fi. You both listen to a lot of music and love your jobs.

Of course, you can’t agree on any of those things. He reads classic novels in their original languages, and you read cheesy romance books. He likes Star Trek, you like Star Wars. He listens to classical music, and you listen to rock. He’s an FBI agent with multiple doctorates, and you’re a part time bartender/part time lead singer of a not-so-famous band who barely graduated high school. By all accounts, you two shouldn’t work. But somehow, despite all your differences, you’ve been dating for nearly a year now.

Your relationship really couldn’t be stronger; you live together, you’ve met his mother, he’s met your parents- but there was still one line the two of you hadn’t crossed. Meeting his coworkers. You know that he’s told them he’s dating someone, after all, they’re profilers. They could tell he was with someone after your first date. But for some reason, Spencer was still hesitant to introduce them to you. You tried not to let your insecurities cloud your thoughts, but well, how could you not? Was he embarrassed by you? Did he think they’d judge you for your lack of education and career? Would he break up with you if they didn’t approve?

You’d brought up meeting his coworkers on multiple occasions, of course, but he always had a reason to put it off.

“We’re all so busy, we’d probably get called off to a case before they even get to know you.”

“They’re just gonna profile you, Y/N, trust me, you don’t want that.”

“It’s a team bonding thing, I don’t want you to feel left out. Next time?”

So, when you found out the entire BAU was getting a week off after almost non-stop cases for the past two months, you knew this was your chance. You didn’t care if they were going to judge you, or profile you, you wanted to get to know the people closest to Spencer. So, when Spencer came home that night, he was met with you, holding a flyer for your band’s next gig.

~~~

“What’s this?” He asked, taking off his bag and putting it on the ground next to the door. Normally, you’d scold him for that - “There’s a perfectly good hook right there, Spencer.” - but you let it slide this time.

“Band’s doing a gig at the bar on Friday. And you have this week off, which means you get to come!” You handed him the flyer, and planted a kiss on his cheek as he answered.

“Of course, you know I never miss your-”

“And so can the rest of the BAU!” You cut him off with a sweet, and convincing smile on your face.

“Honey…” He started, but you wouldn’t let him talk you out of it this time.

“C’mon Spence! We’ve been together for almost a year now! I want to get to know these people, they’re basically your family! What’s the harm in having them come to the bar?” You paused for a moment, taking a deep breath before your next words, “Do you really think they’ll hate me so much?”

“What?” Spencer was shocked you would even suggest that the BAU wouldn’t like you - how could they not love you? “No! They’ll love you!”

“Then why won’t you let me meet them?”

Now it was Spencer’s turn to share his insecurities. “W- I just...you and I are so different,” He started, before you scoffed.

“Yeah, no shit, Spence. Unless you have secret nipple piercings too.” You said sarcastically, enjoying the redness that covered Spencer’s cheeks at the mention of your piercings.

“Anyways...you and I are really different, and they’ll point it out. And make fun of me. And..and probably make you realize that you could do better than nerdy old me.” Spencer let out a breath at his confession, feeling a weight leave his chest that he’d been carrying for months.

“Are you insane? Spence, if anyone can do better it’s you!” Spencer opened his mouth to protest, but you kept talking, “I mean really Spencer, you’re a badass FBI agent! You’re a doctor! You’re a genius! Any girl would kill to have a guy like-” Spencer cut you off with an intense kiss. When he finally pulled away, just for a moment, he spoke quietly.

“So Friday, huh? You really wanna meet them?”

“Yes, you idiot. I really wanna meet them.”

~~~

When Friday came rolling around, you were both extremely excited and nervous. On one hand, you were meeting the BAU, who are practically Spencer’s family, and you knew their opinion of you could make or break your relationship. But, you’d written a song this week that you had yet to show Spencer, and you couldn’t wait for him to hear it at the gig. Again, you were nervous for him and the team to hear the song, but part of being a musician is being vulnerable.

You’d been rehearsing the song with your band all week - they were a little mad that you’d wanted to add a brand new song so last minute, but they all agreed it was good enough that it had to be on the setlist - so you hadn’t gotten to spend as much of Spencer’s week off with him as you’d have liked. Hopefully when he heard the song tonight, he’d forgive you for it.

“Why can’t I go to your sound check again?” He asked you for the fifth time that day, as you were getting ready for your gig. Normally, you’d love to have Spencer at sound check, and he much preferred watching you perform when there wasn’t an obnoxious crowd surrounding him.

“I told you, I have a surprise for you during the show, and if you come to sound check-”

“It’ll be ruined, I know. I was just hoping you’d change your mind.” He pouted, making you almost regret saying no to him. Almost.

“Trust me babe, it’ll be worth it. Go to dinner with the team, and I’ll meet you all at the bar at 8.”

“Are you sure you want to meet them?”

“Yes, genius, I’m sure. 8 o’clock.”

“Okay, 8 o’clock.”

~~~

When you walked onto the small stage with the band, you could immediately spot Spencer and the BAU in the crowd. There was a decent turn out, but Spencer stood out like a sore thumb. At least, he always stood out to you. You gave him a smile and wink, before standing in front of the mic to introduce the band.

The set started like normal, playing the songs Spencer knew by heart (of course, he only needed to hear the songs once to know them by heart, but it still made your heart soar when you saw him singing the lyrics in the crowd). You noticed the other members of the BAU enjoying the songs as well, which settled your nerves greatly. You saw who you could only assume to be Garcia and Morgan dancing provocatively together, the two other women - probably Prentiss and JJ - dancing modestly together, pausing to talk every now and then. You recognized Rossi from the back cover of his books, enjoying the music with a scotch and a slight bobbing of his head to the beat. The last person, from the process of elimination, Hotch, didn’t appear to be enjoying himself at first glance - but you could see a hint of a smile on his face as he lightly swayed to the music.

When you got to the final song in your set, you were looking right at Spencer as you introduced the song. “So, this next song is gonna be the last of the night -” A roar of upset came from the crowd, causing you to laugh as you wiped the sweat from your forehead. “I know, I know, I’m not happy about it either guys. But, it is a brand new song, and the inspiration for it is right here in the room.” The crowd grew in excitement this time, looking around at each other as if they could figure out who the mystery muse was. Spencer already felt a blush growing on his cheeks as he realized what your surprise was going to be. “This song is called Doctor Agent Super Genius!” You said with a large smile on your face, as the guitarist began playing the beginning chords.

Spencer’s blush was even more obvious now, especially since all his coworkers had looked away from the stage and towards him. He only shrugged in response, trying to show that he knew nothing about it. Before any of them could question him, you began to sing.

Most girls go for tall, dark, and handsome

But that’s not how I’d describe you

You’re a little scrawny,

Your hair is kinda funny,

And you’ve got enough brains for two

The music began to build, and you were looking right at Spencer as you sang.

You talk my ear off about random facts

That I don’t give a shit about, but,

I’ll smile and nod

As you go on and on

Cause I want you to take me out

You laughed a little, then began playing your own guitar along with the lead guitarist before the chorus hit.

You see he’s got

1 2 3!

PHDs, and he knows exactly what I’m thinkin’ just by lookin’ at me

He knows everything about everything

Especially what to do in between the sheets, hey!

As you played your guitar and did your best to interact with the crowd before the next verse hit, Spencer’s blush had hit an all time high. The team, clearly enjoying the suggestive lyrics and the way Spencer had reacted to them, were now all dancing. Well, except Hotch. He was just laughing at Spencer along with the team.

You claim that you don’t have luck with girls

But I don’t see how that’s true

Cause those ladies are insane if they don’t want an agent

Who’s as fucking cute as you

Yeah, you talk my ear off about random facts

That I don’t give a shit about, but

I’ll smile and nod, ask a question or two,

Cause I’m kind of in love with you

Once again, you played guitar as the crowd got ready to sing along, now familiar with the words to the chorus. Spencer wasn’t looking, but Garcia had pulled out her phone to catch his reaction. (She already had plans to play the video at your wedding one day)

You see he’s got

1 2 3!

PHDs, and he knows exactly what I’m thinkin’ just by lookin’ at me

He knows everything about everything

Especially what to do in between the sheets

Because he’s got

1 2 3!

PHDs, so he shoulda known better than to be with someone like me

He’ll never forget a single moment of it

I just hope he won’t regret it…

Dear God, please don’t regret it!

Doctor Agent Super Genius,

It’s time to be an idiot and,

Fall in love with me

The lead guitarist had one last moment to shine as the song ended, and the crowd went wild before the band exited the stage.

~~~

It had been 15 minutes since your show had ended, and you finally made your way out of the back. After a change of clothes, and a small pep talk from the drummer in your band, you spotted Spencer and the team at a table in the back. As you made your way over, you caught the eye of Penelope Garcia, who immediately stood up and pulled you into an unexpected hug.

“Y/N Y/L/N! I am so excited to finally meet you!” She said, letting you go for only a brief moment before pulling you into a chair between herself and your boyfriend. He only got to give you a brief hello before Penelope began introducing you to everyone. “This is Derek, Emily, JJ, Rossi, and Hotch. Oh! And I’m Penelope, your new best friend.” You laughed at her excitement, taking it all in stride.

“Hi everyone, I’m Y/N. I hope you liked the show!” At the mention of the show, Spencer’s cheeks, which had only just begun to resemble his normal skin tone, turned red again.

“Oh trust me, Y/L/N, that was the best concert I’ve ever seen.” Derek said, laughing at Spencer’s reaction.

“You did amazing, as always.” Spencer said, glaring at Derek briefly before planting a light kiss on your cheek. This time, it was your turn to have your cheeks heat up.

“Please tell me you guys have a CD or something I can buy, I mean honestly, I’d be listening to your music even if it wasn’t for you dating the super genius.” Emily said, causing your face to light up.

“We don’t have any physical CDs yet, but all of our music is on itunes and spotify! We’re hoping to put together an album soon, once we record Doctor Agent Super Genius and a couple other songs we’ve written recently…” And you were off, talking about your music was always something you could do for hours.

As you got to know the team, and they got to know you, Spencer realized how stupid it had been of him to put this off. Sure, you and Spencer were completely different, but you fit into his life perfectly. He could already tell the team loved you, and knew you’d be a part of all of their lives for years to come.

~~~

When you got home after a long night of talking at the bar, you were surprised to immediately be pulled into a kiss by your boyfriend. When he finally pulled away from you, your could only laugh before you spoke.

“What was that for?”

“Doctor Agent Super Genius.” Was his answer, before he pecked your lips one more time.

“Oh yeah? Did you like the song?” You asked, even though you already knew the answer.

“I loved it. Although, you got something wrong.” You laughed lightly, expecting him to correct some grammar or fact from the song. “Falling in love with you wasn’t stupid. It’s the smartest thing I’ve ever done.” You beamed before kissing him this time, pouring all of your love into it as best you could.

“But you were right about me knowing everything. Especially in between the sheets. Care to let me prove it?” He said once you pulled away.

You happily let him prove his genius all night.

~~~

taglist: @dr-reid-ismyspiritanimal @la-vie-en-amour1 @peculiarinsomniac @andreasworlsboring101 @rexorangecouny @rosyskies

#spencer reid #Spencer Reid fic #spencer reid angst #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds fic #the bau

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baalzebufo · 3 years ago

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🔫😃 give us them monster au Majima deets I dare you /hj

I'm invested, I wanna know stuff, like; What was the interaction between Kiryu and Majima like after the reveal? How did Haruka find out? Was it because she lives with Kiryu or did Majima tey to keep her oblivious to it as long as he can because no.?

I WANT THE DEETS AND I WANT EM NOW

(ya don't need ta do nothin if ya don't wanna, take yer time, I just wanna show excitement with this :>)

THANK YOU for the interest I am constantly excited to talk about things and will 100% share what deets I have

(Update: this got... WAY longer than I anticipated. So im putting it behind a readmore. sorry for the wall of text I got very passionate suddenly!!)

disclaimer: I have very little solid 'canon' established and 99% of this will be stuff I make up on the spot cause thats just how I do these things

So, in my head this all takes place after the events of the first game- Kiryu's been to jail, gets out, 10 billion yen drama ect. I think it would be peak drama if Majima accidentally let slip during the fight at Shangri-la that he isn't human, he got so hyped up on the idea of a 'fight to the death' with Kiryu (which, lets be honest, was probably a bit of suicidal ideation on his part because he wanted Kiryu to utterly destroy him) that he couldn't control himself and Kiryu gets an eyeful of claws and teeth and horns. But because things are so fucking manic during that point in the game, Kiryu deadass writes it off as a weird hallucination/'this might as well be happening' because he has WAY too much going on.

it's only after the games finished and Kiryu settles down, decides hes going to adopt Haruka and is trying to get his affairs in order when he's like. Holy Shit What Was Up With That.

Majima hasn't shown his face around him since because he becomes convinced Kiryu seeing that means hes going to despise him and/or try to kill him so he crawls into his hole to mope about it and Kiryu has to genuinely jump through hoops trying to find where he is. He was concerned! Eventually he gets in touch with Nishida who is equally worried about his boss (he knows Majima's secret but is sworn not to tell anyone) so he just. quietly tells Kiryu where Majima is living right now and prays it wont come back to bite him in the ass

He goes, Majima initially attempts to be like 'haha you hit your head pretty hard down there-' and write it off like that but Kiryu is nothing if not persistent and eventually he has a little meltdown about it and finally just shows him. Majimas been in a super weird mental state since Shimano died and hes just like, at his breaking point, so he figures 'fuck it, if Kiryu hates me, whatever' at that point

OBVIOUSLY Kiryu doesnt, hes just like. dude are you okay

they have a long ass talk about it and what happened and it all sort of culminates in an awkward love confession because turns out wow you two REALLY care about each other, huh!

Majima also shares that hes only really still in the yakuza because he feels like its the only place he belongs, that a monster like him doesn't deserve anything resembling a normal life. its that conversation that starts him on the path to realizing he's not happy there tbh

Im SEVERELY rambling at this point but. after a lot of emotional catharsis between these two they promise to try to make something work. majima considers leaving the yakuza, and kiryus going to make a home with haruka. and while hes not ready to join them properly, just yet, he's... thinking about it. in the meantime, he's heard some cool stuff about construction as a business, and he's lookin' into it.

they kept it from Haruka for a while, mostly because Majima is super not comfortable showing people. He didnt spend a lot of time around her because he still felt guilty about the kidnapping thing, but eventually Kiryu pushes him to try to apologize properly and make amends. Haruka is obviously suspicious of him but, I think shes got a good judge of character when it comes to if someones being earnest, and its clear Majima wasn't acting of his own volition. (She blackmails him for lots of ice cream as an apology.)

Eventually she picks up on the fact they're hiding *something* because of how like, furtive Majima becomes when he stays with Kiryu and how he's almost never actually around, especially since he loves being the center of attention otherwise. So they brace themselves for it all to come crashing down when they tell her.

It honestly... goes fine. Maybe its just cause she's a kid and was way more willing to believe monsters exist, but it's not quite the 100% world-shaking revelation. It does set them back a bit and there's a lot of convincing that 'not all monsters are evil', but eventually she settles on. 'he's not scary. he's just kind of weird.' and you know what? majima will 100% take that.

(also she thinks its funny how he purrs when you touch his ears a certain way. he's like a big weird puppy.)

okay goddamn this post got long enough as is but. thank you again for the interest I have... so many words in my brain about this. Ideally id love to write a proper fic but im really not great at structured writing like that- it takes a helluva lot of a work compared to just infodumping into a big nightmare post like this. One Day.

I mad appreciate any and all interest though! Like, at its heart this is a hurt/comfort kinda au, and my end-goal is for Majima to realize being a monster doesn't mean he doesn't get to be happy or that he doesn't deserve to be treated like a human. it is vitally important to me that these two old sad men be happy together and build a better life lmao

#I hope its ok to put this in the main tag im. just i like talking about this aaahh #goro majima #kazuma kiryu #monster au #im also gonna tag all this content as #longjima #because thats my silly nickname for his monster form #this is probably very disjointed and weird to read i am just!! my syndromes are activating you know

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belpheroo · 5 years ago

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Title: Untitled Genre: Hurt/Comfort, short bit of fluff. Pairing: Mammon x MC Summary: In which Mammon gets in trouble, Lucifer makes a half-hearted declaration Mammon then takes way too seriously and MC is there to make it better. Notes: I just like taking an insecure Mammon and showering him with affirmations until he cries. - MC Includes some of my headcanons about pact bonds aka emotional walkie talkie and pact marks appearing in the same spot on both MC and the bros. There is a passing reference to my other fic Between the Flash and the Thunder in this one, but you don’t need to read it to know what is going on.

In Mammon’s defense, he had done nothing that he hadn’t done before, so why Lucifer was so angry over some missing dusty old statue was truly a mystery. Lucifer turned a blind eye so often to his petty thefts and insurmountable debts to highly shrewd yet beautiful witches, but for some reason today was different.

He could practically feel the heat radiating off Lucifer’s body, a faint scent of sulfur warning that he could, at any moment, transform. Mammon knew better than to talk back in these moments so instead he waited with his arms crossed over his chest, head ducked down as if he could make himself smaller and unnoticable.

“You gave those harpies a relic of immense value.” Lucifer said, voice teetering between even and ragged, “It was one of the components that protects and seals this House from outside intruders… evidently… we have far worse concerns within!”

His voice raised to a near shout at the end, but Lucifer restrained it back, eyes shut tightly as he composed himself. Mammon felt his pulse all the way to his fingertips, clenching the fabric of his sleeves tight in his fists, focusing on the solidness of the floor beneath him rather than the lightness that threatened to swarm through his head.

“… I-I’ll get it back.”

“No. You will not. I will retrieve it. You can not be trusted to any position of responsibility. In fact, I begin to think I made a mistake entrusting the well being of our human guest with such an irresponsible lout.”

Insults were nothing, Mammon felt the blow of words meant in teasing and in earnest all the time… but this was different. His eyes widened, a breath caught in his chest. He wheezed trying to form words of protest, but Lucifer simply threw up his hand, silencing him.

“These thefts will stop. Do you understand me?”

“Yeah…”

“I will think upon your status as protector. Until then, if you so much as step one centimeter out of line—“

“I got it, okay? …I got it. I’m sorry.” Mammon hurried to change his tone and must have appeared sufficiently abashed because Lucifer’s shoulders relaxed and he turned his eyes away from Mammon. That alone hurt worse than anything his brother had said.

“…okay. Good.”

As always, something softened in Lucifer’s features and Mammon could feel the regret mixed into his anger. It wasn’t like Lucifer enjoyed this shit and Mammon knew that… but thievery was a compulsion he wasn’t likely to kick for good anytime soon. Perks of being the Avatar of Greed.

“You can go back to class.” Lucifer said instead of what else was on his mind and Mammon did.

—

It was nearly impossible not to hide the sharpness in his breath as Mammon half gasped and half panted as he strode down the halls of RAD. Being away from the House was good, it got out from under the oppressive aura Lucifer gave off when he was angry… but in the back of his mind he kept hearing those words over and over.

…I made a mistake entrusting the well being of our human guest…

The thought of Lucifer taking her away from him made his stomach churn. He’d still see her, sure, but her concerns? Her needs and her wants? Those would fall to another brother. He’d be sidelined and unimportant, pushed aside. Would she make a pact with that brother? Who would it be? Asmo? Beel? Most likely Satan if Lucifer could stomach granting such a privilege to him. He was reliable, he was smart.

Mammon growled under his breath, pushing a hand roughly through his hair and tugging, trying to distract himself with the pain.

“Stupid, worthless idiot… shut the fuck up, stop thinkin’ bout it.”

It was no use. His thoughts were spiraling and his chest was prickling with tightness. His eyes stung and Mammon knew then, without a shadow of a doubt, he needed to get out of sight. He found an empty classroom just in time, forcing open the door and slamming it closed as he furiously began rubbing at his eyes with the back of his fist.

Why the hell was he so upset?! He didn’t give a shit about Lucifer being mad! Luci would posture and raise his voice and be rough and then by tomorrow he’d be apologetic … even if Mammon did probably deserve this scolding and worse for having stolen from Lucifer yet again.

But… but dammit just the thought of Lucifer giving her to someone else made him want to fuckin’ scream. He didn’t want them near her! She was his to protect! He was the one she should be comin’ to in the middle of the night, when she was scared of thunderstorms. He was the one who should be taking her around Devildom, the one she was glued to and brought her homework to when she needed “help”… even if they just played on Devilgram the whole time instead.

Mammon was so preoccupied with these thoughts he jolted when the classroom door opened and softly someone slipped in.

“… hey um— so. You like, okay?”

Her voice was quiet and strained, but he knew the human exchange student’s voice anymore. In confusion, Mammon turned and saw in the light that her eyes were red-rimmed and her cheeks blotchy… as if she had been crying. His entire demeanor shifted, brows snapping together as he stood up taller.

“Whose responsible for this, huh? Who messed with ya?”

“Uh? What? Dude. I’m not crying because I want to. It’s you!” She waved back and forth between them, indicating to something invisible.

“Ha…w-what? Me? The Great Mammon? Absolutely not, I would never be all weepy and pitiful and junk.”

She gave him a skeptical look, one well-groomed brow lifting and a smirk on her lips. She reached into the pocket of her RAD uniform and produced a handkerchief.

“Your nose is running.”

He swiped it with a scowl, balling it up and roughly scrubbing his face.

“It’s the pact. I can feel what you feel when you are close.”

Mammon grumbled some reply, but it was indecipherable behind the handkerchief.

“You wanna talk about it?”

“No… man, this sucks. Just stupid really, but it’s gonna mess everything up.”

She nodded, not pointing out he had said “no” and then proceeded to begin talking about it. That was pretty typical Mammon behavior.

“I got in trouble.” He mumbled, looking away from her sheepishly, “…Lucifer said I ain’t responsible enough to be lookin’ after ya anymore. So… guess ya will have to get used to Satan or someone.”

The silence after he stopped speaking was deafening, but he felt something in his chest… a tiny twinge of anxiety similar to what he had felt before but… faded. Like someone speaking through a tin can on a string into his heart. Mammon risked a short sideways glance over to her and found she was standing rigid, fists clenched at her sides. Her glossy lips were pressed tight together, redness spreading from her cheeks down her throat like a lit fuse before she exploded.

“Lucifer can shove it, I’m not taking anyone else! He can’t make me.”

“W-well… I dunno, it might be better cause I ain’t exactly the most reliable kinda guy. Ya probably would be better off if you had someone else watchin’ out—“

“What? What? What are you saying? Like, I can’t hear you over Lucifer talking out your mouth!”

Not what he had expected, he’d give her that.

“Say sike like right now!!!” she demanded.

“Wha- wait?! Why are you mad at me!”

“Because I don’t hear you saying you told him no!” She said, crossing her arms tightly against her chest and huffing, “Because you are standing there talking bad about my best friend… I don’t want someone ‘more’ reliable or whatever. I rely on you just fine. You are…I…”

She struggled to get the words out, the redness in her face having little to do with anger now.

“Mammon, I want you. No one else. I don’t care whether they are better at the job or not, they will suck at it because they aren’t you!”

Relief was immediate, followed closely by sheer embarrassment as Mammon hid his face with her handkerchief, covering his nose and mouth and hoping she wouldn’t notice the flush creeping down his own neck now.

She took in a shaky breath, eyes going wide as her chest rose and fell a bit faster.

“Wow… wow, I can like totally feel that.” She said, voice hushed, “You’re so��“

“Shuddup!” Mammon groaned, tossing aside her handkerchief and dragging her close. With her face pressed into his chest, she couldn’t see his face anymore and honestly… Mammon couldn’t bare to let her see him, pact or no pact.

His embrace was crushing and no doubt not very comfortable, but she softened under his touch and gently her hands came up to soothe over his back.

It was too much. It was just too fuckin’ much.

“…you’re just so happy.” She murmured into his shirt and Mammon swore he could feel her smiling.

“What if I am?! W-what’s it to ya, huh? Human?”

She giggled, arms wrapping around him fully as she squeezed back as tightly as she could.

“You’re so weak… puny human arms. Nuthin’ compared to the Mammon.”

“Ohhh, can you pick me up!? That’d be fun!”

“N-no!”

“Oh, so you can’t? Got puny demon arms?”

Mammon wasn’t one to take a challenge laying down. Her feet lifted off the floor as he hoisted her up, wiggling and giggling with delight. She got her arms up between them so she could wrap them around his neck, hooking her legs behind his own.

“Whee! Much better.” She hummed, looking down at his very unamused face with a smile. She had succeeded in her goal of distracting him and Mammon knew it.

“...I ain’t got puny arms.”

“I know, Mammon.”

“You’re bein’ extra needy, human.”

It wasn’t true. He was the one who needed and needed and needed. Her affirmation, her affection… don’t look at anyone else. Don’t be with anyone else. Mammon was suddenly struck with the knowledge he’d give up every penny in his bank accounts if it meant no one else ever got to have her.

And he didn’t know what that meant, but he knew what she wanted it to mean right now.

“…I’ll tell Lucifer no.”

“Hmm? What was that?” She cooed, voice teasing and light.

“I said I’ll tell um no! I ain’t given ya up!”

She weighed next to nothing with his strength, but still he settled her unto the instructor’s desk, palms flat on either side of it’s smooth surface as he leaned in, caging her.

She kept her legs locked around him, but now she could put them around his waist. Her hands slid from his neck down his arms, coming to rest on his forearms where she kneaded and rubbed at the bare skin where his sleeves were rolled up.

Normally, this kind of position would have Mammon a stuttering mess, but there was something determined and direct in his eyes, as if he couldn’t focus on anything right now but making sure she knew he was in earnest when he said what he said.

“I’m not giving you up either.”

Simple words, and yet she could feel where they pierced into his heart, leaving him half joy and half agony. Why did it hurt him so much when she spoke kindly to him? Mammon craved the words, but something held him back.

“You aren’t stupid.” She whispered, gently lifting her hand and resting it on his neck, watching as the pact mark began to appear exactly on him where it was on her. Her thumb found it, pressing and rubbing in firm circles until she pulled a groan from Mammon’s throat and he tipped his head forward to bury his face against her neck.

She felt his lips brush her mark, a touch more than a kiss, but a kiss all the same.

“You’re my first guy… you’re my favorite guy. I like you best.”

She knew if she kept it up, she was going to make him fall apart… and part of her wanted to. Part of her thought it was exactly what he needed. Instead, she gently kissed the side of his head with a loud and pronounced “mu-wah”.

“C’mon! Let’s cut class.” She said, gently wiping Mammon’s cheeks with the back of her hand when he untangled himself from her. He sniffed once, refusing to meet her eyes and nodding vigorously as he got himself composed.

“Eh… Lucifer did say somethin’ bout not breakin’ anymore rules today.”

“I’ll tell him I was sick and needed company.”

“You ain’t sick!”

“I’ll tell him it was ‘girl troubles’. That one gets him so quiet you’d think I was the Avatar of Awkward Silences.”

Mammon laughed, rolling his eyes which were starting to look a bit less red and a bit more mischievous as he considered the possibilities of ditching. Taking the opportunity, she slid off the desk with a tiny flourish, spinning to fluff out her skirt before brushing it down resolutely.

“It’s decided! Two hellfire boba teas and chocolate newts are what the doctor ordered!”

She took his hand and he resisted only for a moment so he could relish the feel of her tugging him towards her and the sight of her pouting before she stamped her little booted foot on the floor.

“C’mooooon!”

“Alright, human. You’re buying."

#i am a two trick pony #i see obey me bro #i write hurt comfort #i write smut #obey me mammon #obey me mammon x mc #obey me fanfic #obey me fanfiction #more like a ficlet #anyway it isnt very polished but someone might like it!#this was more of a writing exercise for me to play around with MC's speech mannerisms #and write some Mammon feels #im explorin' the boys psyche about being SHAT ON all the time #but lucifer isnt meant to be a bad guy here he is arguable got GOOD REASON to be mad #that mammon STEALS FROM HIS BROTHERS is a big yikes to me #but Lucifer will forgive him because it's Mammon

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msmarvelwrites · 4 years ago

Text

The Winter Ghost - Part 9

Info: A Devastating car crash causes you to lose your memory and start over. The only thing left in the wreckage was the horrific nightmares which plagued your mind. If you knew what today would entail you would have just stayed in bed. But you didn’t and because of that, everything you knew was about to change.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Warnings: swearing, angst if you squint.

W/c: 2.5 k

A/n: Thank you so much to all of you have have given this fic so much love. And thank you to @cutie1365 for all her help and support! Hope you all are having a great week! Also I promise more Y/n x Bucky interactions are coming soon!

It had been exactly five days since the three men left on their recon mission to see what Zemo knew. Five days. Besides the occasional report on Natasha’s part, you haven't heard from Bucky again since that night.

This was a good thing, you thought. Maybe he was respecting your space. Maybe he had come to his senses. Maybe he meant that text for someone else. Ouch, You hurt your own feelings with that one.

In any case, the time away from the Super Soldier had given you the clarity you needed to think. You and Natasha trained almost every morning and in your spare time you would work out with Sam. He was a good trainer, besides the lingering eyes when he asked you to do squats. You didn't really mind though. You weren't really sure why you were training. It's not like anyone knew where you were, or even cared at that point. The Avengers in New York had their own problems and as far as the rest of the world knew, Y/n L/n didn't exist.

Everytime you would ask Nat what this was all for she would only shrug and say something about ‘Avengers must be prepared.’ The idea that you could even be compared to the world saving team was insane and frankly terrifying to say the least. You were just Y/n. Sure Hydra had pumped you full of some mystery serum but without your memories you weren't even sure what that meant.

Speaking of, since that fateful day at the market, you had no sign of anything else coming back to you. You felt like you were letting everyone down. Especially Shuri who had been working tirelessly to help try and regain something, anything that would make you remember. A part of you worried that no matter what she did, you would never truly know. And a small part of you was maybe a little thankful. The idea of your past life terrified and fascinated you all at once.

Over the past few days, Wanda helped teach you that little mind trick of yours. Once you got the hang of it, it was hard to say out of people's heads. Though you had more control over your ability than before, sometimes your friends were just too loud; you couldn't help but pick them out of a room.

“Hey good lookin'! You ready to hit the gym?” Sam's voice echoed through the kitchen while you poured yourself a tall mug of coffee. You signed, still sore from yesterday's workout.

“Don’t you guys do anything other than workout?” You asked, eyeing him sceptically.

“What's it look like?” He winked, flexing his bicep.

Guess that's a no.

“Okay, okay. Just let me enjoy this small fleeting moment of peace while I drink my coffee. I’ll meet you there in fifteen.” You spoke, exasperated. You weren't getting out of this one. You knew that, and so did he.

“Fine, but if you're late, we’re sparring. And you know damn well I fight dirty.” He smirked, jogging out of the room. God, he was insufferable. Over the time since Sam had come back you both had spent a lot of time together. He was a flirt and you were awkward as hell, but the two of you became close friends. Plus, he liked to shit talk Bucky as much as you did.

You brought your mug up to your lips and took a big sip, letting the rich aromatic smell of coffee invade your senses. While the others would lay down their respective lives to save the world, you would do it just for this moment. Were you a junky? The thought made you giggle.

“What's so funny, dear?” Nat strolled into the kitchen, eyeing you while you only shook your head.

“Oh, nothing.” You paused as she looked through the fridge for her usual morning orange juice.

“Top shelf, on the left.” You spoke.

“Got it. Thanks. What are your plans for today?” She questioned, grabbing a glass from the cabinet.

“I’m heading to the gym in a few, if you care to join me. Besides that, I’m open. Why what’s up?” You asked, bringing the mug back to your mouth and finishing what little coffee you had left.

“No reason… the boys are coming home today and-” the coffee that once resided in your mouth spewed out in an almost cartoonish spit-take. Your hand flew up to your face, but it was too late. You choked on the fluid over coughs and apologies.

“Wait- What?” You asked dumbfounded.

…………..................................................................................................................

“Wait- what?” Steve asked in shock, his eyes almost bulging out of his face. Bucky couldn't help but chuckle at his friend's delayed reaction.

“I kissed her Steve” He reiterated again, “… Or maybe she kissed me- I don't know, it just kinda’ happened.” Bucky huffed, rubbing the back of his head as his eyebrows knitted together. It didn't matter now anyways, he had ruined it. He knew he had to, but dammit, that didn't mean it hurt any less. Knowing no matter who actually initiated the kiss- it happened, and in turn, completely altered their relationship. Whatever it had been in the first place.

“How could you let this happen, Barnes?” Steve barked, knocking him out of his train of thought.

“Don't give me that ‘Captain’ bullshit, punk. Not with me. I don’t know, there's something about that girl. She just-”

“She's just nothing. No Buck, absolutely not. Do not go down this road. I’m warning you.” Steve pointed a finger at Bucky's chest, the sheer strength pushing him back a few pases. He held his ground though as to not let on that little Stevie was capable of such strength.

“Well it doesn't matter, I called it off anyways.” Bucky mumbled. Steve only sharply nodded in confirmation.

“Why do you care, anyways?” Bucky asked, watching his friend carefully.

“I- I don't. I don’t care. I mean- yes! I care, of course I do. You're my best friend… I don't want to see you get hurt…” Steve stuttered.

After all these years Bucky would have thought he’d get better at lying but, wanting to drop the conversation he nodded, accepting his failed attempt.

“I’m glad you broke it off with her, Buck. There's so much you-” He coughed, though it sounded like more of a choke, “We. there's so much we don't know.” He finished, obviously staring at Bucky’s forehead, rather than his eyes.

Damn he was bad at lying.

“Anyways…” Bucky started, desperate to change the subject from Y/n to something less gut wrenching. “When’s ship out?” He asked, as the two men walked back to their motel.

They had landed in Berlin five days ago. Five excruciatingly long days. Bucky had called and hung up on Y/n seventeen times since they got there. He prayed to whatever God he believed in the calls never made it to her end.

Meeting with Zemo took a lot out of Bucky. The man knew the deepest parts of himself. The parts that shamed him, and caused him nothing but heartache and pain. T’Challa had helped to sneak Steve and him into the Joint Counter Terroist Center, giving them a little less than thirty minutes to interrogate the man.

Bucky wasn't sure about any of this. Why would Zemo want anything to do with Y/n? Unless he was just a cog. The whole thing made very little sense, but then again, he trusted Y/n. With every fiber of his body he trusted her. Even if Steve wasn't quite as sold.

That's only because he hasn't kissed her sweet lips. God, if he only knew how you tasted.

Ouch, he hurt his own feelings with that one.

The memory for Zemo’s twisted smile knocked him out of his daze.

“The prodigal son returns, it seems,” He chuckled, sadistically. Even his voice sent a shiver down Bucky's spine. The idea of this man's hands on Y/n in any capacity was enough to send him into a blind rage. But they hadn't come to tear his head clean off his body, though Bucky knew he could do it without even flinching.

“Here to ask you some questions. And you're going to answer them.” Steve barked in his most authoritative Captain voice. Zemo chuckled, never once taking his eyes off Bucky.

“The Winter Soldier and his boyfriend. What a pleasure…” Steve only huffed in response causing a sadistic smirk to tug on the prisoners mouth.

“Twenty minutes.” T’Challa spoke into their coms.

“What do you know about Y/n L/n?” Bucky spoke this time. He hoped Zemo didn't see his harsh expression falter as the mere mention of her name.

“Ah, Agent L/n… Quite a specimen, wouldn't you agree, hound?” Zemo practically spit the word. Steve reached his arm out, gripping onto Bucky’s shoulder, holding him back.

He wouldn't even flinch. It would take seconds.

“Answer the Question.” Steve boomed.

“Yes, Y/n and I go way back. You have her don't you? Found her triggers yet? Does she even remember her own name?” He laughed, almost maniacally, like something out of those old comic books Bucky was so fond of.

“Steve…” Buck warned, knowing that he wasn't going to be able to hold it together much longer. Steve nodded, turning his gaze back to the small man in the cell.

“What's in the serum, Zemo. What exactly did you give her?” He asked, stepping closer to the glass case he was sitting in.

“Couldn't tell you if I wanted to. But she knows… And when she remembers, oh. What. A. Day.” He smirked, tapping on the glass with every word.

“What does that mean? What are her triggers?” Steve questioned. When Zemo only shrugged the Captain’s fist flew against the glass, sending a booming echo through the room.

“Ten minutes.” T’Challa’s voice ran through their coms again. It was now or never. They probably wouldn't get another chance like this. The men were fugitives. The mere fact they crossed the European border was a god send.

“Why didn't you just kill her? Huh? Why go to all this trouble...Why give her the serum?” Bucky asked, trying, truly trying to keep his voice level. The idea of never meeting Y/n made his heart ache.

“We tried to clone the serum. She's a smart one, мой ребенок. Made it so that without being mixed with her blood and exposed to radiation, it would be useless. Her fail safe. I don't think she ever thought...” He chuckled, shaking his head from side to side. “Tell me, did her arm heal okay?”

Bucky gritted his teeth. The smug bastard. The thought of the torture Hydra must have put her though made him feel physically ill. Worse than anything they could have ever done to him. They touched her. He could practically hear her screams ringing through his mind.

He wouldn't. Even. Flinch.

“We must leave. Someone's alerted a guard.” T'Challa's panicked voice shook Bucky out of his rage. Zemo seemed to notice.

“Give my regard to мой ребенок.” He flashed a toothy smile, taking a seat again.

“Get out of there!” The king's voice boomed, but Bucky didn't move. Steve yanked on his arm, pulling him towards the doors.

“They know where she is.” Zemo spoke so quietly the two men almost didn't hear. But they did.

“Who?” Bucky snapped. The man only chuckled, and waved as Steve yanked him out of the room.

…………..................................................................................................................

You met Sam and Nat in the gym, fifteen minutes later.

He was coming home today. You always knew eventually he would, but you were hopeful you'd have a little more time. Time for what, you weren't sure. All you knew is your heart still ached with his final words.

The idea of seeing Bucky’s face again made a lump appear in your throat. You weren’t ready. I mean, truthfully, you weren’t sure you'd ever be.

You had dealt with rejection before, sure. Your freshman boyfriend asked Angie Cordillia to the winter formal instead of you. You cried all night. But this- this was different. You knew it. You felt it, and it ripped through your heart like a chainsaw to paper.

“You're late!” Sam shouted from the treadmill going full speed. Well, not full speed- it was made for Steve and Bucky after all.

“I am not. Right on-” You looked down at your watch. “Time…” Oh shit. One minute past ten.

“I’m just warming up, and then I’m coming for you… Ya ready, beautiful?” Sam asked, sending a wink your way.

You looked to Natasha who only sent you a smirk while she stretched on the gym mat.

You huffed, tying your hair back into a ponytail. “Listen, Sam, I know what you said but I’m just really not feeling-“

“You know why you’re here?” Sam suddenly interrupted. All joking tones had melted out of his words as you approached him.

“Well, do you?” He repeated.

You thought about that for a moment. Yeah, you knew why. The team needed to find out whatever serum was in your system before Hydra would clone it. You were a means to an end. You were of course willing to be that cog, if to help right the wrong you had done in your past life, but that’s all it was.

“You’re here because Y/n, the old Y/n was the best of the best. She was a fighter. And whether you remember or not, she’s in there. Maybe there’s a way to take that serum out of ya, maybe you can just start over. But if you can’t, whatever you believe in has put it in there to make you stronger. So you decide, are you just here to be here, or are you a fucking Avenger?” His words hit you like a ton of bricks.

Sam was never the sentimental type. Far from it, in fact. You’d never heard him speak with such passion. You wanted to believe he meant it, but a gnawing feeling in the fit of your stomach kept you from fully retaining his worlds.

“I- I’m not an Avenger.” You signed, wanted nothing more than to be the kind of person to spring into action after his speech, but you weren’t. You knew that was because you were no hero.

“Maybe not officially. The bands kinda broken up at the moment. But lemme’ just say this,” He placed a hand on your shoulder, “You’re here for a reason. So we’re not going to sit around in Shuri’s lab all day. We’re going to train and maybe, if I kick your ass enough, you’ll realize just how special you are.” He gave you a little shove, knocking you back a little. You tried to speak but your voice betrayed you.

“Dammit.” You finally spoke.

“Yeah, I don’t know where that came from either…” Sam chucked. You wanted to protest, to argue that you weren’t the person he thought you were. But you didn’t.

You weren’t sure if it was the look in his eyes, or the intro to Shoot to Thrill by AC/DC that came blaring out of the gym speakers, but in any case, you believed him.

“Fine, Give me your best shot, Wilson.”

................................................................................................................................

A/N: Thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed please remember to leave a like or reblog <3 Your validation means to much to me lol Hope you all are having an amazing weekend! Remember to take some time for yourself and practice self care! Lord knows we all need it right now.

@kalesrebellion

@projectcampbell

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freshouttaparsnips · 4 years ago

Photo

Stretch is healing, getting over the hurts of the past. Until they come literally knocking at his front door.

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this is a sad fic ya’ll, no happy endings yet but there will be a continuation! (if anyone wants to fund a chapter or two, it’ll be sooner rather than later XD)

tags: Hurt/Comfort, minor fluff, Angst, relationship angst, this is basically just sad, no happy endings here, at least not yet, fluff in the future!

read it on Ao3

or read it below!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They were all having fun, for once. Blue had dragged him out of bed a few hours before to get a shower and get dressed, which was a lot easier these days than it had been. It’d only been a few days since his last shower, this time, which made it easier to step inside the little glass box and scrub down until his bones tingled.

Stepping up to his closet, towel around his waist and water droplets shining under the titty light on the ceiling. He could wear the “Bad to the BONE” shirt today, Papyrus would get a kick out of it and it’d make his brother smile, at least a little.

Or the “I make science puns periodically”, that was a favorite, and the texture of the shirt was nice and soft after repeated washes. His decision having been made, his bones were succinctly dried and the shirt was pulled on, as well as a pair of soft boxers and one of his pairs of light blue sweats.

It’d warmed up outside significantly, enough that the sweats might have been a little bit of overkill, but it was a party. He wanted to at least be comfortable in his own home. He hadn’t gotten a lot of that until a month or two ago, so it was a nice sensation to have back.

Blue was waiting downstairs when he tromped down them, holding the handle to the vacuum cleaner and grinning wide as Stretch took it without a word. He’d partially made the mess in the living room over the past week, and it looked like Blue had already taken all the extra dishes and trash out, so the least he could do was clean the floor a little.

The whir of the vacuum was soothing, at least until he hit a few things it didn’t want to suck up, that was always a fun mini heart attack. They were all easily taken care of though, so he let his mind wander as he went about the floor.

Blue must have started cooking that morning, seeing as how there were already a couple cheese trays sitting out on the tables in the living room. Monster cheese, so it wouldn’t spoil being out, but Stretch had almost preferred dairy cheese; he hoped Blue had another tray of it in the fridge or something.

He could smell the rich scents of something chocolate and something fruity coming from where Blue had disappeared in the kitchen, making his stomach grumble. He’d have to get some breakfast after this, maybe some toast with a nice piece of american cheese sandwiched between the bread.

He hoped Red actually came this time. Stretch had taken the whole thing pretty hard, but Red had taken it the hardest. Hadn’t left his house for weeks, hadn’t come to join them for a movie night for at least a year.

He still didn’t come every time, and always had a vague vibe of guilt whenever he looked at Stretch, not that he cared.

What happened, happened. There wasn’t anything anyone could have done differently. And it’d been three years, so it wasn’t like it really mattered that much anymore either way.

The vacuum clicking off, the glorious white noise gone, Stretch noticed a faint hint of sinatra playing in the kitchen, and for a moment more, he was taken back.

Back to warm hands holding his own, the music turned loud as he laughed and swayed with his soon to be husband. Red eyelights staring at him in adoration, a small, secret grin stolen from the music that danced with them both.

Shaking himself out of it, Stretch wiped at his face with his sleeve until the wayward tears were gone. He wasn’t going to ruin today.

Blue smiled softly at him as he walked into the kitchen, taking a large loaf of what looked and smelled like banana bread out of the oven. Stretch went to pinch a piece, laughing as he was smacked away before grabbing the bread and popping two pieces in the toaster.

Blue set about icing the tray of cookies he’d been letting cool, studiously not looking up at Stretch.

“Red said he’d come this time. He’s been busy at the Embassy, but he needed the break.”

Stretch nodded, watching the toaster rather than look at the despondency of his brother. He and Red, at one point, had been thick as thieves. Stretch would have believed it fully if they’d ever gotten serious, but as time went on… well. Things happen, and you lose sight of what used to be important, but wasn’t anymore.

The pop of the toaster startled him, a small laugh forced out as he grabbed a slice and began buttering.

“I just wanted you to know, in case he brings anything with him. I know the last couple times he hid a few bottles of whiskey in his damn coat, so I told him to at least bring a case to share if he was going to bring alcohol.”

Stretch paused, trying not to outwardly wince.

Blue was many things… and frugal with alcohol when he was depressed was not one of them.

“Just…” Stretch started, but closed his mouth. Blue was an adult, older than him even. If he wanted to spend a night getting drunk with his friends, when he’d done so well recently, then Stretch wouldn’t say anything.

He’d worry from the sidelines, but he wouldn’t say anything.

“Just be careful, yeah?” he finally settled on, and Blue chuckled.

“Don’t worry, I will.”

The rest of the afternoon was spent making the actual food they’d be eating; a whole platter of nachos that would do actual restaurants proud, as well as several servings of rice and beans and homemade quesos.

All of it made Stretch’s mouth water; his bro was no slouch when it came to cooking mexican food.

But he waited diligently, snacking on a sandwich just before the first guests were set to arrive.

Blue had told everyone to come around 6, which meant that just about now…

The knock at the door, hard and unrelenting, was almost comically on time, Stretch letting his brother have the option to go answer it. He did, letting Red in with a small smile that Red returned.

There might be something more there, someday. Stretch hoped so, they both deserved it.

“‘Ey Stretch, how’s it shakin’?” Red asked, setting two boxes of beer on the side table Blue had directed him to. Stretch tried not to glare at it all, instead focusing on Red.

“Its been fine. Better.”

Red nodded, seemingly pleased. “Good to hear.” And with that he settled on the floor, pulling an X Box out of his inventory and setting it up to their jacked up TV. Stretch left him to it; he’d get a chance to play something later. Right now he was waiting on their second batch of guests, which… also were the last, but that was okay.

It took another half hour for the customary shake and a haircut to sound at the door, and this time Stretch answered, finishing the song and letting Papyrus and Sans inside. They were both carrying tupperware of what looked and smelled like more food… they were having a real feast that night, huh?

Blue greeted Papyrus warmly, the two of them taking off to the kitchen to unpack, leaving Stretch with Sans.

Sans was giving him that searching look that he honestly hated, but there was also really nothing to do but stand there and bear it. Let the old man get his reassurance that Stretch wasn’t about to fall down… it was worth it so they wouldn’t all worry.

“Lookin’ better today, bro.” Sans finally said, satisfied with whatever he saw, and Stretch grinned, nodding.

“Yeah, and you’re looking old as ever.”

Flopping back on the couch, Sans raised a hand to his chest. “I’m wounded, kiddo, how could you do me this way.”

“He could be a lot worse and call you an old fartin’ bastard, like yer are.” Red piped up, playing some kind of platformer while he waited. Stretch and Sans both snickered, but Sans glanced up at Stretch, looking him up and down before patting the couch cushion he wasn’t taking up.

“Park it, kid, the food’ll be done soon and Paps wanted to say somethin’ before we all ate.”

Stretch glanced to the kitchen, but after looking down at an earnest Sans, he did as told, flopping on the opposite end of the couch so he could stretch (heh) his legs out.

Things were quiet, the only sounds coming from Red’s game, which was turned down, and Blue and Papyrus talking in the kitchen.

At least until they started moving the food into the living room on the fold out table Blue had set up, the smells and sights mouthwatering.

It all looked delicious, Stretch saying so and relishing in the pride it brought on their faces.

But before they all got up, Papyrus stood tall, ready to say whatever it was he needed to say, Stretch waiting with an open mind to listen… when a final knock came at the door.

There wasn’t supposed to be anyone else coming… so Stretch stood, walking past confused and wary guests alike, walking to the door and unlocking it before opening… only to find Edge standing there.

He looked. Tired. Worn down. His thick leather jacket looked like it’d seen better days, and Stretch would know, seeing as how it’d been an anniversary present.

His eyelights were smaller, less bright red. He had a few more scars on the bones that Stretch could see, and all in all, he no longer had any of that pride about him that had bugged Stretch so much.

It threw him back, back to the day that he’d proposed to Edge. They’d both been happy, crying and kissing each other as Edge slipped the ring on his own finger and Stretch had gotten up, to go take a shower.

Just a shower. Just to get clean, so they could go out of their little shared apartment and tell their brothers.

It’d been silent, the whole time he’d been inside, so Stretch had called for Edge a few times, but nothing had been answered.

When he got out, it was like a silent storm had blown through, clothes strewn everywhere, one of their suitcases missing and most of Edge’s favorite clothes gone as well.

He’d left. Without saying a word, without even taking his phone. Without saying goodbye.

And here he stood, three years later, looking like a kicked puppy and if that didn’t piss Stretch off more than nothing else had, he wasn’t sure he would ever be this angry again.

“You left.”

The words hung in the air between them, seeming almost like a physical blow to Edge’s soul, seeing as how his HP dropped a few digits hearing it.

“I know.” was the whispered reply. Not an explanation. Not an apology. Just “I know.”

“Then you know where you belong. And its not here.” Stretch answered, shutting the door with a click.

He knew everyone behind him was waiting, waiting for the answers he needed to give them about who was at the door.

By the way Red was standing, stock still in the middle of the room, Stretch had a feeling he already knew.

But he couldn’t do this. Taking a short cut up to his room, he listened as pandemonium broke out downstairs, his door locked as Blue tried to come up and ask him what the hell was going on, but Stretch just said a simple “Go answer the door.” and left it at that.

He felt… numb. Emotionless would have been incorrect, because on the inside he was furious. Seething, he sat up, wrapping his arms around himself.

Edge didn’t care about him. That was the bottom line. If he had, he never would have left.

And as far as Stretch was concerned? He never came back.

#fresh writes #undertale #papcest #spicyhoney #angst #relationship angst #hurt/comfort

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brelione · 4 years ago

Text

Intervene (Barry X Reader)

Request:could you write a fic where Rafe is hitting on you at a party, but doesn't realize your Barry's girl? Rafe does something gross/awful and you take offense. Barry just stands back and watches you handle the situation, only stepping in before you go too far.

TW:Harrassment,sexual innuendos.

Being Barry’s girl meant helping him out at parties.Carrying a pistol,weed and coke for when shit started happening.It was one of those huge ass kook parties with loud music and plenty of stupid teenagers that were looking to buy.

Barry never forced you to leave the trailer, letting you do whatever you wanted most of the time as long as he knew where you were and that you were safe and had your phone on you just in case things went south and broke out into a fight.

He always made sure you were armed, didnt matter where you were going or who you would be with.He always had you carry a gun or a knife.He cared a lot for you, you were probably the one person on the island that he actually gave a shit about.

He remembered meeting you and immediately having an attraction to you, not just to your appearance but your overall aura and the way you spoke.He had listened to every word, the way you began to stutter when you were nervous.

He knew how you would act at parties, secretly watching you like some stalker.He admired the way that you’d take their keys, hiding them and writing a note on their leg for when they were sober enough to see properly.

You’d stay with the younger folks that were doing hard drugs to make sure that they wouldnt overdose or accidentally hurt themselves.He couldnt understand how you had the space in your mind to care about these random clients and he couldnt understand why he cared about you either.

It made him smile when you brought the money back to him, listening to the rules that he had given you and bringing back just as much as you should have.

Most of his workers would take some of the money from themselves or spend a fraction on something but you never did, not until he told you that you could when he found out that you lived in a shed with a shitty mattress on the floor with a battery powered lantern.

He would invite you over so you could sleep in a real bed and then at some point you had moved in with him.He didnt even know how he ended up falling for you and kissing you good night, hugging you from behind and pulling you to sit in his lap while he played a card game with a client.

He had noticed little things about you, how you were ready to fight anyone that dared to talk back to him.You were the only one allowed to do that and for anyone else to do that was a direct attack on both you and Barry.

Tonight Rafe had a good amount of shit on him,looking for people that were stupid enough.He had seen you at Barry’s plenty of times, never understanding where you were or why you were there.

Barry had gone to get alcohol,letting you roam free.He liked to watch you in your natural habitat,easily getting the crowds to split so you could get through.He sipped a beer,keeping an eye on you,chuckling when he noticed Rafe approach you.

He knew how much you hated the tall boy and how annoying Rafe was.He was excited to see how things would play out, a smirk on his face, taking a quick shot of fireball before turning to watch again.

“Hey beautiful.”Rafe smirked,refusing to move out of your way.You rolled your eyes,going to move around him only for him to grab your arm,squeezing your wrist. “Dont try to ignore me.”He whispered,his eyes moving down to places that they shouldnt be.You knew that you could easily destroy him, not feeling worried because you had the upper hand.Rafe just didnt know it yet.

You sighed,attempting to move past him again. “What?You think you’re too good to have a conversation with me?Dont be like that.”He chuckled,pretty much undressing you with his eyes.It was absolutely disgusting. “Im a fucking pogue,you’re not my type.”You hoped that would work.

You knew how much he despised the residents of The Cut.He shrugged, not really caring. “Doesnt matter,you’re hot.”He replied,biting down on his bottom lip. “Get the fuck out of my way.”You repeated, not backing down.

His smirk turned into nothing but emotionless,staring down at you and gripping your waist tight to hold you in place.You knew him as Rafe Cameron or ‘Country Club’.You had heard his name thrown around, mainly from Barry and the kids that Rafe terrorized.You couldnt even imagine being so pathetic that you started to beat up 16 year olds that were just living their lives.

He was a coke addict,an asshole and an all around terrible guy.He would stare at you whenever he saw you in Barry’s place,whether it be on the bed or in the main room with a blunt in between your fingers.His eyes would go wide when they fell on your practically bare chest,his face flushing and looking away quickly.It was annoying as all hell.

“Do you know who the fuck I am?”He asked,fingernails digging into your skin. “Yeah?You think youre cool shit?Nobody gives a fuck who you are.”You snarled at him,scratching up both his wrists with your nails,creating red bloody lines.He stared down in horror.

“You fucking bitch-I should punish you.”He grabbed at both your wrists,seeming like he was trying to throw you to the ground but not succeeding.He smiled a bit,licking his lips. “Can you imagine if I fucked you?You’re gonna look at me and tell me youre not interested?”He asked, looking you up and down.Managing to get one of your arms free,grabbing your pistol and holding the cold metal against Rafe’s chest.

Barry sighed,finishing his beer,deciding to intervene before you pulled the trigger.If it were anyone else he probably would’ve let you shoot but because it was Rafe he would lose half of his business if the son of a bitch was dead.Rafe watched,eyebrows furrowed as Barry came up behind you,his arms locking around your waist,whispering in your ear.

“You wanna shoot him, baby?Go ahead and do it.Or you can let me punish the bitch, your choice.”He kissed your temple,smirking when you let out a sigh and dragged the cold metal down Rafe’s chest and put the pistol back in its place.

“What did I tell you about messing with my shit?”Barry asked, squeezing your waist with a grin on his face as Rafe’s eyes widened, gulping. “Huh?You’re not gonna answer me?”Barry was holding you by his side,a smirk on his face. “I-I dont...you said not to mess with anything.”Rafe mumbled,staring at your gun nervously.

Barry nodded,squeezing your waist. “Yeah,that includes my girl.”Barry glanced over at you, Rafe’s heart dropping into his stomach.He didnt know that you were Barry’s.He had seen you around the trailer plenty of times,even seeing you on Barry’s bed in just your bra and underwear but he had assumed you were just the drug dealer’s fuck buddy.

“I-I didnt know...im sorry.”Rafe mumbled, not quite satisfying you. “Why are you apologizing to me?Im not the one you tried to fuck, what?You dont got any respect for my girl? Fuckin misogynist ass.”Barry glared,thinking about a million ways he could absolutely pulverize the kook in front of him.

You chuckled,your arm around Barry. “Yeah, rich bitch.You want me to fucking shoot you in that ugly face of yours?I think your brain would look pretty great splattered across the ceiling.What do you think,Bear?”You asked your boyfriend,noticing the way his eyes were twinkling at the way you were being so assertive.

“I think it’d look great,some color in this fuckin prison lookin place.”Barry agreed,looking up at the bare ceiling. “No-no,please!Dont kill me-im sorry.Im sorry, I didnt realize.”Rafe stuttered,making you laugh.

“What?You’re only sorry because you know that im Barry’s bitch?What if I wasnt?”You asked,rolling your fingertip over the trigger of the gun.Rafe licked his lips,not knowing where to look or what to do.

“I just...I didnt mean it like that.”He muttered, quite literally about to shit his pants. “You didnt mean what?Didnt mean to what?To bruise me or say rude shit to me?Which is it?”You asked,watching Barry’s jaw clench.

You hummed when he didnt answer, lifting up your leg and kicking him hard in the crotch.The boy collapsed,gasping for air.You pulled Barry’s arm off you,kneeling down and grabbing Rafe by his hair,pulling his head up before slamming his face onto the tile and sending his teeth through his bottom lip.

You smiled,giggling as you grabbed Barry’s hand. “Alright, lets go home.”You smiled up at your boyfriend,kissing him gently before leading him out of the large house.Rafe’s friends were rushing towards him and trying to figure out what happened.

You couldnt care less, Rafe Cameron’s friends were a ton of pussies that wouldnt dare to mess with someone that had a gun.Barry twirled you around, chuckling as you got into the car, his hand on your thigh as he drove. “He was scared shitless, baby.Its cute when you’re all defensive.”He grinned,pulling in behind the trailer.

“Shut up.”You answered,going inside and getting on the bed,emptying your pockets of drugs,laying down properly.He came in a few moments later,stripping into just his boxers and his tanktop,climbing into the bed next to you, pulling one of the many blankets over the both of you with a sigh. “You shouldve shot him.”He grumbled. “Yeah, maybe next time.”You kissed his forehead.

@outerbongs @copper-boom @httpstarkey @teenwaywardasgardian @drewswannabegirl @simonsbluee @jiaraendgame @khiaraaa-in-spacee @on-socks-off

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#barry outerbanks #barry obx #barry #barry x reader #outer banks #outerbanks fanfic #outerbanks imagine #nick cirillo #outerbanks #rafe cameron #rafe obx

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