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dr-drckken · 1 year

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Day 12: Background NPC - Drakken’s Cellmate

Author’s note: just wanted to give the cursory: I’ve never been to prison and don’t know anyone who has. All the information I gathered was from the internet, so obviously it’s probably not at all accurate to what actually goes on in a prison. I don’t pretend to know what I am doing ever, esp on big button issues like this!!

Frugal Lucre, or as God knew him, Francis, had been in prison for about…eh? What had it been? 5 years now? About that much, yeah, he couldn’t really remember. Some people were always keeping time, counting down the days until their sentence would be up or when their lawyer had talked about parole or something. He still had a ways to go, figuring he could start counting when he got closer. It may not have seemed so hopeless that way.

He’d done pretty well for himself in the pen, being a man of economics and pretty good with computers, he had started a little side business. People would bring them his requests from commissary, because heaven knew that was the only edible food in this place, and in exchange he would get them what they needed. Mostly stuff online, things they couldn’t access without a little help.

It was a monotonous life, prison. A very controlled form of hell was how he liked to describe it. He got up, waited for count to be done, went to breakfast, went to the yard, came inside for down time, he read mostly or went about his business until lunch. After count he went back to the yard, took a few laps, enjoyed whatever the weather was whether it was a bitter cold or hotter than hell, catch up on what he missed with the other inmates. Count, dinner, more yard time, count, sleep.

Wake up, do it again.

Sometimes there were small divergences. Fights, that he would ignore since he was not the kind of guy who used his fists nor the type of guy stupid enough to think stepping in would do anything to help. Work, which was tough since the wage he got wasn’t worth a damn by the time they got to head to the store with what they had left, but he had been working in customer service all his life. That’s what had led him to being in there, hadn’t it?

And sometimes there were large discrepancies, stuff that would keep the whole block occupied for weeks with something to talk about.

Like when his cellmate, Kyle, had gotten transferred and some new guy had come to take his place.

“Hey,” Frugal said, when he’d come back from afternoon yard time to find someone in the cell. “I know you.”

“What?” the guy scoffed, eyes flickering over his person in a very judgemental way.

“You’re the blue guy!”

The man, whose skin was, in fact, blue, frowned. “I don’t-”

“Dragon? Right? Oh no! Don’t tell me, don’t tell me!” Frugal slapped a hand to his eyes, the other one waving at the man to keep him from talking. Then it hit him, eyes opening, smile wide as he declared, “Drakken! Right? Dr. Drakken?”

The man, who Frugal knew was Dr. Drakken knew, duh, it was sooo obvious!, was still frowning but his shoulders had slumped a little. Frugal didn’t blame him for being suspicious, he’d probably just gotten out of reception, thrown from the preparation stage right into the real thing. It had been pretty jarring for Frugal, too. Even though reception was pretty close, nothing could really prepare someone for what it was like on the inside. Especially since they kept you so occupied in there, going from one medical appointment to the next, counselors trying to pry into you as much as they could before your time was up and off you went.

“I’m a huge fan! I completely saw your vision. You know not everyone has the guts these days to think about taking over the world. You’re probably the scariest person in here! Well, aside from the guys who, you know, like hurting people,” Frugal tried to convince him, walking further into his cell so he could sit on his bed. “I was following your trial as best I could. Tough break, my friend. They said some kid tattled on you?”

Drakken nodded, movement stiff. Frugal blew out a low whistle. Tough break indeed.

“Well welcome! I can’t say it’s a great place to be but once you get used to it, you’ll get through it. Especially with me!” he grinned, patting the bed beside him for Drakken to sit. He did not. Just kept standing there, arms crossed over his chest.

Fair enough! Frugal’d break him eventually.

–

The first month Frugal watched Drakken go through what everyone went through when they got to prison. The guy hid it well but Frugal could tell he was scared. The way he would flinch at any tiny ding of the bars or hard footsteps in the yard. It was a pretty scary place! All the guys around you had been deemed criminals by someone, it was why they were there. That meant they were probably violent, right? That they were looking for trouble?

Sometimes that was true. Some guys came in looking for it because they thought if they could assert themselves as the dominant stereotype that no one would want to mess with them. Maybe that worked with some people but for the majority of them, they were just trying to live their lives until they could get out of there. They didn’t want trouble. They were already in a place they had no freedom in.

“Don’t worry, so long as you don’t piss anyone off, they aren’t going to mess with you,” Frugal told him one night after count. Drakken looked up from where he was reading, eyes squinting at him from over the top of the book. “The guards are really the only ones you’ve gotta worry about. Seriously. It’s just like the outside world, really. You don’t know them, they don’t know you, so long as you’re not being disrespectful to someone, they aren’t going to come get you for no reason. Usually. No one’s trying to extend their time in here, you know what I mean?”

His cellmate had nodded and went back to reading.

Frugal studied him for a minute longer. Everyone had been talking about Drakken for a while now, mostly due to the whole skin thing. It was hard not to. Blue skin? Come on, that was for the smurfs, that one guy who had the iron whatever going on, and Avatar.

The guy was smart, if very clumsy. He dropped stuff a lot, tripped and flailed out of his bed almost every morning. Drakken picked up on stuff faster than most of the new guys, and, honestly, faster than some of the people who had been in there for most of their lives, too.

Frugal liked him even if it did not seem like Drakken liked him very much. But, like he’d said, Frugal would make him warm up to him eventually.

–

Eventually meant a few months later, a lot of bribing with chocolate milk, and playing chess a lot. Which Frugal didn’t mind, actually. It wasn’t as boring as he thought it was going to be. After he learned what he was doing, with the help of Drakken’s teaching, it was pretty fun! They got a lot of the other guys to start playing, too. So many that when spring rolled around, while the other guys were out playing softball, they had a chess tournament out in the yard.

Drakken wound up winning, much to no one’s surprise, but it had still been pretty exciting! Frugal hadn’t seen that much buzz around the block since he’d been there.

“Let me give you and that big brain of yours something to keep it occupied,” Frugal insisted when he would find Drakken spending his time alone, taking notes about some science stuff that Frugal had no idea about. He didn’t like to see him sequestered. People liked him well enough, he was funny and quick, gaining him a certain amount of respect.

Not everyone liked him, though. He had a temper, would mumble to himself and glare. It made Frugal nervous.

“What do you mean? They’ve got me rebuilding computers, isn’t that enough?” Drakken complained.

“Yeah, but that’s not where the real moo-lah comes in!” he insisted. “You know Spanish, don’t you? Come on, I heard you talking to someone on the phone!”

“So?”

“So? So! You can be a teacher!”

“...what?”

“Lots of guys in here only speak Spanish,” Frugal said, then rolled his eyes. “Which, you know, sucks and says a lot about society but we all know that. The point is that some of them want to learn English. You’d be perfect to teach them since you know both. They’d pay you!”

“I’ve never-”

“Nonsense! You’re a smart guy, doc, you can figure it out. And then maybe you can teach other stuff. Like science!”

–

Frugal helped him, of course. He convinced the first couple of guys to actually talk to Drakken about it until, eventually, there was a whole tutoring system going on. It was fun to watch the guy teach, his movements big and expressions comical. Sometimes he would go on long rants about stuff that no one could keep up with, mostly self indulgent, but he would pull it back around eventually.

The guards noticed. At first they didn’t seem to like it but, after sensing that it wasn’t a meeting for anything other than learning purposes, they backed off. Marginally.

–

They talked a lot.

Or, well, Frugal did! Drakken complained about that, among many other things, in the first few months.

“Don’t you ever stop talking?” he’d asked Frugal one day, running a hand down the side of his face, blue skin pulling.

“Not really,” Frugal answered with a grin.

Which was true. It was a fault, he knew, but it was just who he was. He filled up spaces in every way he could. Silence with his voice, boredom with tasks. Keeping busy was a part of who he was.

He liked to share stuff about himself because it seemed like the more he shared about himself the more comfortable people got with him. No matter how annoyed they got, they always had some sense of trust in him, whether that was because they thought he was too sincere to be a threat or because they thought they could use that information against him if it came down to it. Even Drakken seemed to get that way, no longer seeing him as a threat of any sort.

“You never told me what you did,” Drakken said one night. There were a million conversations going on outside their cell, everyone having one on their block. The speaker kept going off, too. It always did. There was never a moment's peace in a place like this, whether you liked it or not, someone was always awake. Someone was always making noise. You either got used to it or you went a bit crazy. That was sort of the point.

“What do you mean?”

“To be in here,” Drakken huffed. “You don’t seem the type to be in here.”

“No? You think that about a lot of people in here?”

“Well, yes actually.”

Frugal chuckled, turning to lay on his stomach in his bed. He bunched up his pillow, stuffing it under his chest so he could fold his arms on it and rest his chin on them. It kept him at a good angle to look at Drakken where he was sitting at the desk, writing whatever it was he did at night.

“I tried to steal from the big man.”

Drakken frowned, glancing at him. “Who?”

“You know, the big man. The guy with all the money. Bald. Owns the big corporation that has everything you could ever need. Exploits his employees and deserves a pie in his face.”

“Jeff Bezos?”

“No, the other one.”

“Martin Smarty?” Drakken concluded after a small moment of silence. Frugal grinned, snapping his fingers.

“That’s the one!”

“How were you planning on doing that?”

“Well-!”

He launched into his whole plan. Frugal had worked for Amazon for a while, hated every moment of it! And he figured it would be easy enough to just take what he wanted, so long as he did it right. For a moment he thought he had gotten away with it, but, of course, a hitch in his system had brought his plan to a crash and burn.

As soon as he was finished telling his tale Drakken cracked up laughing.

“That was you?” he asked, turning in his chair, one arm hanging over the back. “Didn’t you have a mustache or something back then?”

“Ah, so you do know of me! Yes, I did, but it wasn’t real. I was trying to be in disguise.”

“Maybe you should have gone with a full mask instead if you weren’t looking to get caught by your employer. Who has your face on record every time you enter one of their facilities. And invested in a voice modulator, that accent was horrendous.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know. I know,” he waved a hand. “But, uh, other than that, what did you think?”

“Of what?”

“Of my plan! I know I didn’t build a death ray or anything exciting, but I thought it was pretty good!”

Drakken nodded, “The end goal was sound, but I don’t think you would have gotten what you wanted.”

“What do you mean?”

“Revenge, right? On Martin?”

“Sure.”

“Well, he wouldn’t have probably even noticed that money was missing unless you hadn’t sent that video,” Drakken said. “If you really wanted to hurt him, you’d have thought of something bigger.”

Frugal frowned, brow pinching together as he thought this over.

Maybe Drakken was right.

It also made him wonder who the guy who wanted to take over the whole entire world wanted to hurt.

–

Drakken was getting out!

It was great news, even if Frugal had no idea how the guy had managed to pull it off.

“I’ll have to look you up when I get out,” Frugal told him on their last night together as cellmates.

To think, he was going to have someone new. Two new people in the span of 2 years. Crazy.

“Sure,” Drakken said and then smiled. “If you can find me.”

“Oh, hoo hoo,” Frugal pointed at him, knowingly. Drakken had never seemed like the kind of guy to give up. If the life of crime was what called to him then it was going to be what he continued doing, even if he had gotten caught. That was the thing about prison, wasn’t it. It had a lot of people coming and going. Some vowed to stay away from it, never to return, but sometimes it was inevitable. Life was not always the perfect story of getting to turn it all around. Most of the time this place made it worse. Made it hard to go back to society, the life inside having become all you know and getting back out there with a black mark next to you name advertising where you had been for a few years instead of on a sabbatical made it impossible to get a job. Friends. People to trust you.

Frugal didn’t doubt Drakken, though.

“Hey, if you’re in charge before my times up, promise you’ll come get me out?” he asked.

Drakken nodded. “I’ll replace Smarty with you in here, Lucre. Promise.”

He laughed. “Hey, maybe you could teach me. I can be, like, your criminal apprentice or something.”

“If you get out and are able to find me, we’ll see.”

When Frugal left for breakfast that morning, someone came to escort Drakken out. They waved goodbye to one another in the corridor.

“Hey, where’s Blue?” someone asked as he sat down with his food.

“He’s getting out today,” someone else filled in for them.

“Damn, what made him so special? He was only here for, what? A month?”

“A year.”

“Must have had a good lawyer.”

“Something like that,” Frugal smiled.

Or maybe someone with some good computer skills had done a little finagling, a little black mail, and gotten a good man another chance.

#swynwrimo

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maddieinwonder · 3 years

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A Lesson In Romance #3: The Cast

Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1.5k

Plot: Reader keeps getting caught in rom-com situations with Spencer Reid. This time, the team figures it out.

A/N: I'm guilty of writing too much Morgan and Garcia but I can't help it — they're so much fun! I think them plus Emily would have the most dramatic reactions to Spencer in a (potential) relationship, though I'm excited to write about the rest too.

(Also, the reference at the end is from Lord of the Rings, because I love Lord of the Rings.)

Masterlist | All chapters here!

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If you've learned anything from rom-coms, it's that every romantic lead needed a supporting cast. Whether they were siblings, parents, or childhood best friends, the main character needed somebody who would drop everything to talk to them — preferably showing up at their doorstep with face masks, nail polish, and a bottle of wine.

In your life right now, you suppose those people would be your teammates from the BAU.

Of course, this hypothetical scenario didn't require your potential love interest to be from work, but let's say for the purposes of the discussion that they were. Then you hoped, at least, that they would have an IQ of 150 or higher and a propensity for wearing mismatched socks.

But you were getting ahead of yourself. You were simply imagining the hypothetical scenario where your life was a rom-com. Hypothetically, you would need a love interest, and hypothetically, you kind of already had one.

“Hey,” Spencer waved you over from across the coffee shop. It wasn’t difficult to spot him when the place was nearly vacant. Everything was slow and quiet this early in the morning, and you weren’t going to make an exception.

“Morning,” you greeted softly as you sat down, relaxing into the smell of freshly roasted coffee and baked goods.

“I already ordered yours.” He smiled, tucking his book away in his messenger bag. “They had bagels this morning. Yours is cream cheese, but mine is strawberry jelly.” He looked overly pleased with himself, and you couldn’t help but crack a sleepy smile.

You eyed the spread in front of you, before lifting your gaze to meet his. “So your theory that you can predict my taste in desserts seems to be getting better.”

"Yes!" He shout-whispered, silently raising his fists in victory. “I knew I was right.”

You giggled at his overexcitement over something as small as getting your dessert order right. Although, he did once spend ten whole minutes explaining to you why dessert for breakfast was an underrated concept, so you couldn't say this was beyond your expectations for Dr. Spencer Reid.

You propped your head up with your arms, a smile plastered over your face. “Have I ever told you that you’re a weirdo, doctor?” You teased.

“Why, yes. Yes you have.” He replied with a smile, gesturing at you to try the bagel. His own was almost-gone, so they must be good.

And it was. Your eyes fluttered shut as the heavenly combination of carbs and cream woke up your taste buds. It was made even better with a sip of the perfect cup of coffee.

"Perfect," you sighed happily, digging into your breakfast further as Spencer quietly caught you up on the latest news in classical art.

Two weeks ago, you wouldn't have guessed that you would talk to Spencer alone, much less spend your mornings together with him. But as it turned out, a lot could change in a few days.

After the initial awkwardness between you had passed, you found that the two of you shared a lot more interests than interdimensional doctors and space opera. You both loved coffee, obviously, but you also had a mutual love for desserts, classical literature, and history.

It didn't take long for these interests to seep into the weekend, resulting in a suspiciously date-like afternoon with Spencer at his favourite museum. But you tried not to think too much into it. After all, the day had ended with a "see you at work", and not a "would you like to come in?"

Still, your dance between friendship and something more continued to grow wilder as days passed, until it reached a point where it inhabited your every waking thought. The only time it didn't, ironically, was when you were spending time with the person in question and every stray thought seemed to fall away.

Your mornings with him brought a necessary reprieve to the dark realities of this job, and some days you almost had to drag yourself out of your seat, knowing that you were straying from the calm of his company straight into the lion's mouth. But duty always called.

Your sudden hesitance to be apart from the resident genius hadn't gone unnoticed by the rest of your team either; ever since the two of you walked into office one morning with matching coffee cups and smiles on your faces.

At first you enjoyed Spencer's company too much to care, but you knew that it was going to bite you back one day. And today seemed to be that day.

You could tell, because the lift doors to the BAU opened to one very determined Penelope Garcia with her arms folded across her chest. "Spit it out, you two," she said sharply without any greeting.

You and Spencer looked at each other, confused, before looking back at Penelope. "Spit out what, Pen?" You asked, a frown starting to form between your eyes.

"You know what I mean!" She squeaked, dropping her stern facade for a brief moment. "Are the two of you dating? The entire team has been dying to know, and I mean, d-y-i-n-g because there's a huge pot of money with my name on it if you are."

"Ah— No— I mean, you think—" Spencer stammered, his face instantly turning beet red in embarrassment, while your face began to grow red for another reason entirely.

"I think what he means is 'no', and what I mean to say is— what do you mean the entire team?" You half-yelled the question, while Penelope raised her hands defensively.

"What I mean, sugar, is that the two of you went from avoiding each other completely, to coming into work together everyday — and I know you spent last weekend together too, because you couldn't stop talking about it the next day at work and everybody noticed." She stated, pushing up her glasses.

"Not to mention, Dr. Reid here started wearing brighter colours subconsciously." She continued with her observations. "I know this, because in the almost four years I've worked with this man, I've never seen him wear anything brighter than violet. Or white. Or beige. But those don't count." She shook her head, getting back to her point.

"You get what I mean— and you," she pointed her pen in your direction, causing you to jump slightly. "You finally stopped doubting yourself as a part of this team. I knew this when you started talking more often during briefings — which I have nothing against, B-T-W, I totally support any effort in self-care and personal growth — but you also stopped shifting in your seat which you used to do when you felt nervous."

Penelope took a deep breath, preparing for the climax. "So all I can assume, is either you've been attending one of the 52 self-help classes that happen every weekend in Virginia, or somebody has been helping you find some serious zen."

"And my money's on the latter because every time you think nobody's watching, you're making eyes at Reid. But you're wrong. Garcia is always watching." She concluded triumphantly, raising one finger to point at herself.

"You might make a good profiler yet, doll." Derek remarked, walking up to the group with a smirk firmly affixed to his face.

"Expert at all things romance, and Cupid of the Behavioural Analysis Unit, Penelope Garcia at your service." She smiled, graciously curtseying to your other teammate.

"I know you're smart like that, babygirl," he grinned, draping his arm around her shoulder, "but you also don't know pretty boy as well as I do, because they aren't in a relationship."

He turned to you questioningly. "Are you?"

"No." You replied, glancing hesitantly at Spencer for his response, but his face simply looked blank with shock.

"See? Now it's time to collect my payout." Derek grinned at the tech analyst, making the motion of raining dollar bills.

Penelope tailed behind him grumpily as he walked into the BAU office, surely to share the "good news" with everybody else.

You hesitated to follow, imagining what teasing and looks would follow regardless of the outcome. Then you felt a tap on your shoulder. Turning around, Spencer gestured back at the empty lift with his head and you smiled, realising what he meant.

"That is the best hypothesis you've had all morning," you said. The two of you shared a laugh as you got back into the lift.

Even behind glass doors, you could hear a muffled "What?!" that you guessed came from Emily. "There's absolutely no way those two aren't together already. Have you seen them?"

There was a brief pause, then a loud groan.

"I know, that's what I told him!" Penelope's high-pitched voice was clear. "You know I'm going to be right about them eventually—"

The lift doors finally closed, blocking out the rest of their conversation. You looked up at Spencer, your gaze meeting his clear hazel eyes. He looked at his watch briefly before saying the next words.

"We've got time. Are you up for second breakfast?" He asked, referencing a movie from a conversation two weeks ago. He remembered. Of course he remembered.

You cleared your throat before replying the next line. "What about elevenses? Luncheon? Afternoon tea? Dinner? Supper?"

He laughed, and you felt a familiar peace return to you.

Whatever your teammates were yelling about, the two of you could deal with it later. Together.

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Tag list:

@blue-space-porgs @nobutalsoyes @lady-loves-a-lot

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sirenascales · 3 years

Text

-> double black [part three] 18+

-> Chuuya x 1stPOV!F!Reader x Dazai

-> Who knew getting fired from work could lead to this?

-> Content: SMUT, slight angst, violence, murder, swearing

A man is murdered and things get interesting as the investigation starts. [Chuuya x 1stPOV!F!Reader x Dazai]

2,981 words

note: no smut in this one hehe, but things are gonna get fun. enjoy!

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Final || masterlist

"Hey... are you okay?" Kenji asked me a few days later, noticing the scowl on my face and realizing that I had been tapping my nail on my desk repeatedly for the last fifteen minutes. "You seem... pissed?"

I grunted, closing my eyes and slowly taking a deep breath. "I'm okay, Kenji. Just having a bad day." The others shared looks with each other, but chose not to pry. The frown on my face never left, my fists clenched as my blood continued to boil.

Then that all went away, when I felt a gentle hand against the back of my neck. I looked over at Dazai, who had lazily rolled himself in his chair over to me. He grinned. "I could see the steam coming from your ears!"

His hand never left my neck, moving until his fingers loosely wrapped around the column of my throat. Strangely enough, my anger had completely gone away when he touched me, and it felt nice to finally breathe. "With the day I'm having..." I sighed, the whole world seemingly melting away, Dazai's thumb stroking along my jaw.

Kunikida was clearly unimpressed, the man gritting his teeth. Atsushi looked shocked, his face tinged red while Ranpo and Kenji just touched their own necks gently.

"Does she like to get choked?"

"Who knows, man."

"Hey, I know what will make you feel better," Dazai suggested and I tilted my head, waiting for him to continue. He leaned in and would have kissed me if it weren't for a book smacking right into the side of Dazai's head.

"Do that on your own time! We have a schedule!" Kunikida fumed while I quickly turned around to cover my face, simply to muffle down my obnoxious laughter.

"Oh, dude!"

"Kunikida! What was that for!"

"Public indecency!"

Dazai rubbed his head, whining from the pain while I just giggled behind my hands. Dazai almost looked betrayed at me laughing at him and I just shrugged my shoulders. "Hey, that's what you get for trying to play grab ass."

I purposely ignored Dazai's pouty face for the rest of the day, the man clearly upset that he didn't get to kiss me. I shook my head, glaring at him from across the office while threateningly pointing my pen at him.

"Work, dammit."

"I don't wanna! Bella, don't be so mean!"

I fixed him another glare before going back to my work, finishing up the final report for the last case we were on. After going through and making sure it was perfect, I saved and emailed it to the President, just as the door to the office slammed opened.

"He's gone!"

"Keiko?! What the he- Keiko, what's wrong?"

I stood up from my desk, my best friend standing before me in a frazzled state. She looked extremely distressed, tears falling down her face. I rushed to her, the woman collapsing into my arms as we both fell to our knees.

"He's gone!" she exclaimed before she started to sob into my chest. "He's gone! He's gone! He's gone!"

"Keiko..." I looked up at the others with wide eyes, them looking on with alarm. I turned back to Keiko, rubbing on her back as she continued to sob.

Taichi was killed. He was found in an alleyway with multiple stab wounds. Keiko had received a call from the police after his identity was discovered, the detectives revealing the tragic news to her.

"I'm so sorry, Keiko..." I said to her softly, sitting with her in one of the small areas of the office, separated by simple dividers. "... how the hell did this happen? We just saw him last night when he dropped you off at my place..."

Keiko had finished crying, but the terrible sadness in her eyes was a clear indication of how devastated she was. I clenched my fists, feeling my anger from earlier building up again.

"I'm going to have to make my statement," Keiko said softly, chewing on her bottom lip.

"Do you want me to go with you to the station?" I asked and she shook her head.

"No... it's okay..."

"The thing is, you are also one of the last people to see him alive," Kunikida spoke up, standing by with Dazai and Atsushi. "You'll have to give your account too..."

Sighing deeply, I absentmindedly reached under my skirt, pausing when I didn't feel my knife against my thigh where it usually was. I gritted my teeth, shaking my head to myself before I went back to rubbing on Keiko's back in an attempt to comfort her.

Soon, Keiko and I left the Agency and headed on over to the police station. We gave our accounts of the night before when we last saw Taichi, us talking separately with a different agent.

"Now you know, Mr. Kamiya was in the Port Mafia," the agent said and I nodded. "And they have quite a bit of history with your little organization."

I didn't like the condescending tone in his voice, but I kept my cool. "Of course, but none of us have anything to do with this man's murder, and you have no evidence proving otherwise."

He just rolled his eyes at me. "Well, this is all we need. You're free to go."

I nodded before quietly making my way out of the interview room. I met with Keiko, who looked like she had been crying again and I pulled her into a comforting hug. "It's okay. This will be over soon."

Later on, I found myself back at the Agency, Keiko choosing to go home, despite my protests. My head was buried in my arms, not moving as I felt someone put their hand on my head, lightly scratching my scalp.

"Looks like the police will keep on investigating Taichi's murder," Dazai said and I peeked one eye out to find him leaning against my desk. "Thing is, I'm sure the Port Mafia will also be conducting their own investigation. Ohh, this is gonna get interesting~"

"So is it better if we stay out of this, then?" I asked, sitting up in my chair. "I mean, unless we're asked... we don't have to touch this."

Dazai regarded me for a moment, a mysterious smile growing on his face before he just threw his hands up nonchalantly. "I get it, you were friends with the guy."

"Not really," I corrected him immediately. "Keiko is my friend."

"Ohhhhh," Dazai just hummed, tapping his forefinger on his chin. "Well anywho, the police are gonna have their hands full if the Port Mafia really gets involved! It wouldn't hurt to help, right?"

I hesitated, a small smile soon growing on my face as I nodded. "Sure. Let's start tomorrow."

"How about tonight instead?!" Dazai asked with a cheerful smile while I just glared at him angrily, the two of us now standing in the middle of the crime scene.

"Why do I even bother believing a word you say?" I hissed at him, attempting to kick the man but he quickly side stepped me. I gritted my teeth. "Ugh, plus it's already dark, Dazai. It's gonna be harder to find any evidence." Indeed, the only light we were getting was from the full moon up ahead, and the shitty lights above the side door of one of the buildings. "Are we even allowed to be here?"

Dazai simply nodded his head. "Of course, we were assigned to this case, afterall."

"... you told me the police were keeping it," I said, eyebrows twitching in annoyance. Was he serious?!

Dazai just smiled and threw his hands up. "Guess I was mistaken," he hummed and I sighed deeply, rubbing my temples.

"Okay so... what now?" I asked, finally looking around the crime scene. It was obviously taped off and Taichi's body was removed. All there was left was a giant stain of blood, which I now looked at with a worried face.

"Just by the nature of the crime alone, we can easily say it was a crime of passion. If this was a local gang or rival, he would have been shot, or even jumped and beaten to death. Official word is, he was stabbed over sixty times," Dazai explained, standing beside me and staring at the blood. "There is no sign of the murder weapon, no other physical evidence besides Taichi's dead body and blood. We'll have to wait for forensics to give us their final word, but I can tell... this might not be so easy to crack."

I nodded solemnly, my fists clenched tightly.

"Or... will it?"

I took in a deep breath before turning and sending Dazai a sheepish smile. "Well, we got our work cut out for us, huh."

Dazai chuckled softly. "Yeah, but that's what makes it fun."

"So Dazai," I started, crossing my arms over my chest. "I have a question."

"I may have an answer."

"Have you ever killed anyone before?"

Silence followed after my question and I turned to look at the man. His hands were in his pockets, a weird smile on his face. "I have. Quite a few."

For some reason, the answer didn't shock me as much as it probably should. "How do you sleep at night?"

More silence, before Dazai stood before me. I looked up at him, heart thudding when I saw that same dim look in his eyes. His lips curled up and he leaned in, making me hold my breath as he whispered.

"Like a baby."

My breath hitched in my throat, eyes going wide. I licked my lips nervously, nodding my head slowly. "I see..." Just... wow.

"You know, I could have gone without seeing your ugly face, Dazai."

A look of distaste grew on Dazai's face as the newcomer came sauntering up to us. He wore black, a familiar hat resting upon a familiar head of red hair. Blue eyes stared daggers into my coworker, mouth curled into a displeased snarl.

"Ah, Chuuya! It is a small world, after all," Dazai sang, the glare in his eyes not meeting the jovial tone of his voice.

Chuuya scoffed. "I thought you'd be fucking dead by now, but of course, you always love to piss me off."

"'Cause it's so much fun!"

The two men clearly didn't like each other, but that was the least of my concerns. All I could do was stare at Chuuya in shock. Of course, Taichi was one of his subordinates, he would want to find out who his killer was and get retribution. That was just how the Port Mafia worked.

I gulped, carefully trying to back away from the two. They could stand there and bicker with each other all they want. I had to get out of here before-

"Oh wait, meet my new friend!" Dazai wrapped his arm around my neck, wrestling me to his side effortlessly as I tried to break free. He knew I was trying to escape and made sure that didn't happen.

"Hey, let me go!" I hissed, not pleased with being pulled into a damn chokehold.

"Not until you meet my old friend!"

Chuuya growled. "We're not friends, damn traitor!"

Traitor? I grew confused, eyebrows pinched even as I fought against Dazai's hold. Chuuya narrowed his eyes when he finally got a good look at me.

"Hey... do I know you?"

Crap. "Uh..." I laughed sheepishly, Dazai now confused as he looked back and forth between the two of us.

"You know each other?"

"W-well..."

"We met a few months ago," Chuuya spoke up, his eyes widening in realization before his eyes narrowed and he snarled. "Knew you couldn't be trusted."

"Wait!" I exclaimed, making it out of Dazai's hold and holding my hands up to Chuuya. "I swear... I didn't even know about the ADA when we met. It was just as I said that night, I lost my job and was there to drink my pain away."

"Tch," Chuuya sounded, his eyes still narrowed. "And now you work with this traitorous bastard. Lucky you."

There was that word again.

"What do you mean by traitor?" I asked, at the same time Dazai spoke up.

"How the hell do you two know each other?"

Chuuya scoffed. "I fucked her."

I squeaked, Dazai's eyebrows raising.

"Interesting. I'm fucking her too."

I squeaked again, waving my hands wildly before either man could respond. "D-don't we have a murder to solve, huh?!"

It fell on deaf ears, the two men staring each other down, all before their eyes were on me and my trembling form.

"You know... I feel like we've been here before, Chuuya."

Said man snorted. "When you fucked my girls?"

"Like you haven't fucked mine?"

Okay, now I was confused. "Um... I don't understand..."

"Oh yeah!" Dazai exclaimed a bit too cheerfully, putting a hand on Chuuya's shoulder, earning a withering glare. "Chuuya and I go way back. Were the best of friends."

"No we weren't."

"We were partners! The best there was!"

"... tch."

Partners? What the hell did Dazai mean by partners? I looked between the two men, lips formed in a thin line. Then, the answer struck and my mouth fell open in shock. There was no fucking way... Dazai? I swallowed thickly, shaking my head for this was not the time or place to be thinking about this.

"Okay... I can only imagine just how deep this shit goes," I started, the men looking at me curiously. "But we have a murder to solve. Whatever... this," I gestured my hand between the two of them. "Is... it can wait. Y'all can make out or whatever later."

That was my attempt at breaking whatever tension there was, but I was the only one cackling when Dazai and Chuuya immediately protested.

"I will kill you!"

"That is not funny, bella!"

"Ugggh, I don't have the time for this. I should have known that the ADA would be investigating this, and that just pisses me off. You two should just stay out of my way," Chuuya said, hands in his coat pocket. "Though you... word is that you were one of the lasts who saw Taichi alive."

My heart dropped when Chuuya looked at me and I frowned. "And I told the police that I saw him when he dropped Keiko off at my apartment. There are cameras in the lobby that will show that I never left the apartment. We even ordered food in."

"Fuck. And there is no other evidence right now. No weapon, no hints of DNA. It's like the killer just vanished," Chuuya said to himself and I glanced at Dazai, seeing the amused look on his face.

"What if it was an ability user?" Dazai suggested. Chuuya gritted his teeth.

"Shut up! I don't need your help!"

"Really? Are you sure?" Dazai taunted the red head, quickly ducking when Chuuya swung his foot in a wide kick. Dazai didn't get hit, but the wall behind him took the damage, large cracks forming on the surface. I swallowed thickly. Just how strong was Chuuya?

"H-hey," I started nervously, foolishly getting between the two men before they could start a fight. "We're after the same goal, right? Why don't we just... work together?" The fierce glares I got made me shrink. "O-o-or! Or not! That's fine! Just don't fight!"

"Bella is right... fighting is so beneath me," Dazai said wistfully and I sighed deeply.

"Dazai, I'm being serious. This man was my best friend's boyfriend. I want to find his killer too."

"Just stay out of it," Chuuya growled. "This has nothing to do with either of you. The Port Mafia will handle this."

"Let's make it a race then." Both Chuuya and I were dumbfounded as we looked at Dazai, waiting for him to continue. "A competition to see who figures this out, the ADA or the Port Mafia."

"Dazai... what the hell?" I asked in disbelief, Chuuya stepped closer to him.

"What's the prize?"

Dazai smirked, raising a bandaged hand and pointing right to me. "Our bella."

My jaw dropped. "You're fucking kidding me?"

"No," Dazai answered rather seriously. "I'm not."

Chuuya is strangely quiet, his unreadable eyes now trained on me. I fidgeted under his gaze, looking away to find Dazai staring at me all the same. I shivered. I hated this; hated being part of such a stupid competition as a prize, and I hated that I fucking loved it. I screwed my eyes shut.

"Deal," Chuuya finally said and I gasped when I felt his familiar leather clad fingers cup my face, him moving my head to make me look at him. "Gotta say, I didn't expect to see you again, but I'm glad our paths have crossed a second time." I became extremely flustered and Chuuya smirked. "Tell me, Dazai. What was it like having my sloppy seconds?"

I gasped sharply with Dazai only laughing darkly, suddenly feeling his presence behind me. "Can't say it was too bad..." he answered and I just completely clocked out, breath hitching as I felt a bit embarrassed. And turned on. They knew exactly what to say to get me riled up.

"Okay, I'm leaving! It's late and I still haven't eaten dinner yet! Bye!" I was frantic trying to rush away from them as fast as I could. I didn't even turn back when Dazai called after me.

"See you tomorrow, bella!" Dazai chuckled softly, watching me disappear, hands stuffed in his pockets.

"A race? Really?" Chuuya asked incredulously, eyes piercing as he stared at his old partner.

"It will just make this all the more fun," Dazai hummed.

"You're a bastard," Chuuya scoffed, rolling his eyes. "Just stay out of my way. Taichi getting himself killed just ruined the investigation we had on him."

"Oh?" Dazai raised his eyebrows, amused. "Was he being a naughty boy?"

"Shut the fuck up, Dazai."

-End

I have this headcanon that Dazai and Chuuya definitely stole each other's girls and even shared them and had threesomes when they were partners and ya'll CANNOT tell me otherwise.

#bsd x reader #chuuya x reader #dazai x reader #chuuya smut #dazai smut #bsd smut #this case isnt gonna get too insane bc i just write a detailed investigation lmfao #im trying ok this is just lots of smut with a lil plot to make it juicy #anyway I hope you enjoy lol

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oh-for-fic-sake · 3 years

Note

What is August going to do if his little decides to play with his forbidden knife collection? :3

Omg so this took a while and i'm sorry but im sooo happy with this! It got a little long so im hidig it under a cut but i hope you enjoy! @littlefreya @viking-raider

August swore vehemently looking around for the blades he'd sharpened specifically for his next assignment.

This needed to be silent and precise, he'd sharpened each blade twice! Not once but twice!

He wouldnt even attempt his 'arm hair' shave test this time knowing he may have gone over board with the sharpening.

But he couldnt help it, he found it therapeutic running his hands over the blades again and again, it was like medatation for him.

But they were no where to be seen! Hed placed them each delicatly in the rolled travelling leather holster, useing the small poppers to lock each dangerous blade in place and then hid it in the small safe in the wardrobe.

"Baby girl! LITTLE ONE HAVE YOU BEEN IN THE SAFE?!" He shouted down the stairs only not to get an answer, the radio on the kitchen drowning him out.

You were baking, well 'bakeing' he had bought a 'unicorn gingerbread box kit' for you both to make today.

It was a small treat he would spend the day with you doing anything your little heart desires befor setting off onto his week long mission.

You were currently rolling out the gingrbread and he had decided to sneak his weapons into his bag while you were preoccupied.

August never liked rubbing innhis occupation with you, never liked faceing the awkward questions, he wont lie to you but in being truthfull he can sometimes frighten you.

In the bedroom he was as ruthless and rough and demanding as he was at work.

But like this when you were little, you drew out a softer side. Well as soft as he was capable of, he was a stern man in everything he did, even in daddying you.

August huffed and zipped his case violently stressing out he needed to go down and pversee ou before you did something foolish, like tried to put the gingerbread in the oven.

Your panicked hyperventilating and bitten 9ff screams drew his attention immediatly!

He bolted down the stairs as fast as he could, so panicked by the cries and screams from the kitchen he raced through the housestomping and crashing with all the grace of a bull in a china shop.

Oh hell.

He froze, face paling mouth agape as he took in the scene.

Then he roared in a way you'd never heard.

You cowered holding your hand tightly as it bled profusely red life blood poured all over the white counter ruining the sheet pan dusted with what was once pure white flour.

The blood was also over the rolled out gingerbread, along with a very familiar knife.

You cried and staggered over you august holding your wound tightly tripping over your feet to him, wandering blindly unable to see much through your tears. Or hear past your frantic crying and yelps of "daddy!?"

August quickly decended on you grasping a teatowel from the laundry basket on the counter and tookover holding your offered wounded hand whislts snappjng at you in worry fueled anger.

"What the fuck are you dojng with that!? They are daddies special knives! You know not to touch thwm you silly little girl!"

"I'm s-so-rry! OUCH, NO-OO DAD-DY IT HURTS!" You cried out complaining as he dabbed the wound inspecting it.

It wasnt to deep just long, across the whole of your palm. He could tell your slipped and probably didnt evwn notice youd cut yourself untill it'd sliced fully across.

He'd sharpened them that much.

"You will be! By god little lady you will ne so very very sorry when im done woth you!"

"Come on sit down before you pass out and bleed all over the kitchen" he said tying a knot in two corners ot the teatowle making a triangle like a sling and looped it around your palm then fetched a wooden spoon slotting it in the large opening and began twisting it tight making a tourniquet.

You hissed as he pulled the clother thighter and tighter then slipped the wooden spoon into your fingers holding the teatowel still, before raising your hand high letting gravityhelp slow the bleeding.

"Now hold that there, dont you move, w need to stop the bleeding so i can mend it" he snipped grunting to himself. He wasnt worried as such, it looked worse than it was he had tended to worse on himself.

"Y-you can fix it da-ddy?" You sobbed tryi g to be brave but you were shaking like a leaf, youd never bled that much before.

"Yes daddy can fix it poppet, daddy can always fix it" he said quickly pulling out his... vast medic kit that was fully stocked to deal with everything from burns and cuts to bullet woulds and decapitated fingers. Because ou never know.

"A-are you mad da-addy?!" You whined eyes wide as he huffed and sighed dragging his hands through hos hair irritated

"Im not angry im very very disappointed. And you can bet your little ass is gonna be meeting that spoon shortly!" He said vehemently trying to calm himself and remind himself it wasnt too serious and he could deal with this cut.

You didnt even argue just looked down, dropping your watery eyes to the floor like a kicked puppy, and it wasnt even to soften him either.

"Why were you touching daddies private things?" He spoke tyring to take both his and your mind off your wound as he located everything he needed from the box.

"A'cos i wa-nted to see...they were shiney after you were polishin'em" you explained hicupping slowly weeping still as the pain and throbbing set in.

"I was sharpening them poppet, not polishing" he uttered quickly with a sigh trying to find a quaze big enough to wrap in a bandage.

"I just wanted to see... Never gon' touch" you sobbed bijng your lip eyes flickingnup the the now red teatowel, your figers were going a ittle numb from the tight tourniquet.

"And then?" He asked quirking a brow as you before waling to the kitchen sink washing and rinsing the washing up bowl thoroughly befpre filling with fresh warm water and a new clean cloth.

"Then the box said cut round the unicorns with a knife... And I already got it out to look at" you said shrugging a little as he moveed down your hand. Luckily the bleedig had stopped.

"I also says let and adult do it" your daddy chided as he slowly and gwntly unwrapped your hand making our fingers sting a little at the renewed bloodflow

"Im an-adult" you argued weakly then hissed as he begancleani g the wound dabbig it ever so lightly knowig he had to use clean water instead of antiseptic that could slow the healing of the delicate skin.

"Your a baby" he said with a roll of his eyes 'a spoilt baby' he added as an after thought to himself.

"...but im carful never cut myself with my big girl knives!" You agrued then gasped giving a small 'uh oh' you mouth had run away with you again.

"You mean the kitchen knives?" August asked quickly coming down on the new information like a... well hammer on a land mine.

"No... my saftey knives daddy" you uttered under your breath hissing as he moved on to the next stage of tending to your wound pressing the gauze to it.

"What do you mean your safety onives little one?" He said paying close attention to the bandages he was unravling over your hand trying to keep it firm but comfortable.

"My safety knives... i-in my purse?... Incase of baddies" you whispered slowly praying he wouldnt hear you. But his fingers paused for a second before quickly tying off the bandage in a knot and gave you a fierce look.

"You have knives in your?- wait hold-" august frowned and held a hand up singnalling you to stay then left the kitchen.

He returned moments later and emptied your pjrse only to growl shaking his had as a plethora of 'cute' weapons fell out. Hello kitty switch blades, rainbow blades, pink pocket knives and suspicious looking comb, key knives, pen knives you name it! There was even a ... cat keyring obviously meant to be some sort of pointy eared knuckle duster.

"Really poppet? Knives and... knuckle dusters- these are" he began scolding you but you cut him off

"I know i know daddy im sorry-" your apology was halted as your daddy spoke over you in a warning to e, he didnt like being interrupted.

"No where near good enough! These are all close range! If your close enough to use these then your already fucked! No you need pepperspray and a tazer!" He growled quickly picking up the feeble knives that had no grip to them, and wasnt ever sharp!

"T-tazer?" You stuttered tiltinnyour head cradling your injured hand to your chest.

"Yes, they are close range but will stop any attacker in their tracks! You can get away whilst your attacker is convulsing and laying in a pool of his own piss!" August growled becoming more and more aggravated as he realised you had now real way of protecting yourself when he wasnt around, big or little!

"Im getting you a tazer- today! Before i leave" he decided nodding to himself as he binned the now soiled teatowel and wash cloth.

"...can i have a pink one daddy?" You asked not being the slightest bit against having a tazer, it would make you feel alot safer then a knife.

Knives needed a proper opening and some brute force to protect you and could really really hurt someone!

A tazer was just a button and could work nomatter where ou hit the baddy and would kill them just make em gall over and pee.

"You can have a pink one princess... or a lipstick one or a tampon one?" Auguast suggested trying to thinl of the best one for you... he was sure a smaller discreet one whould be better than a law enforcement grade.

"That sounds uncomfortable daddy..." you uttered shuddering at the thought of that... being mistaken.

"Its not really a- fuck it... Right come on lets get in the living room you can go pick a tazer online" he said beginni g to pack up the first aid kitpillig everthing neatly into the box.

"O-okay... but no spankies daddy... I'm hurt" you warned cautiously waving your bandaged hand

"Yes spankies! Absolutly spankies! You take this spoon with you and you can pop it on the table as a reminder!" He ordered holding you with a level gaze blue eyes warning you to do as you were told.

"But my hand-" you said sniffling cradling it.

"Will be the least of your problems when I'm tanning your naughty butt! Now go or else" he threataned clipping the first aid box shut still watching you, staring unblinkingly.

"Or else what-" you started but your daddy was havig none of it and cut you off again.

"There is a silicone butter icing spreader in this kitchen that will be much worse than thw wooden spoon! Now get in the living room befpre i make you find it" he growled not about to let you throw a paddy about getting your ass blistered after the stunt you pulled.

Your lower lip wobbled but yu nodded giving up, plucking the wooden spoon and turning around leaing the kitchen in a walk of shame muttering a tiny 'yes daddy, sorry daddy'

Auguast watched with a stern face, before turning his attention to the bloody kitchen he will clean before coming to deal with you.

A good fifteen mineut wait will let you have time to reflect before he comes in and tans you hide.

#henry cavill #henry cavill x reader #august walker x reader #august walker x little reader #oh for fic sake headcannon #oh for fic sake ask

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puckngrind · 3 years

Text

Leave Her Wild: Chapter 2 - N. MacKinnon

Summary: MacKenzie and her friends head to opening night for the Colorado Avalanche.

Warnings: swearing, alcohol

Word count: 2, 675

Series masterlist / Puck ‘n Grind’s masterlist

Flames.

"You are really gonna wear that?" Mosi looks her friend up and down.

"Yeah, why?" MacKenzie tugs at her jersey. Of course she was going to wear it. Opening night, only hockey jersey she owned. Was a Christmas gift from her parents last year. She did a little twirl to show it off to the group of unamused friends.

"Because..." Drew rolls his hands and she rolls her eyes.

"Laissez les bons temps rouler!" Remy waves his hands in the air.

"That means, Let..." MacKenzie starts.

"Let the good times roll! We know.” Drew and Mosi say in unison.

"Alright, Mac is going to be wearing that. Remy has clearly pre-gamed. Mosi should’ve. We have our tickets and I'm driving so let's go." Drew starts herding the friend group out of MacKenzie's condo.

Opening night at Pepsi Center was always an event. MacKenzie and Drew got tickets from their volunteer efforts so the group headed out for their first time ever. They had gone to a Rockies game after Remy moved to Denver but normally the friend group didn't really do sporting events as outings.

“Is someone gonna explain these rules?” Remy plopped down from his first beer run with Drew and handed MacKenzie one. Eyeing her for the answer.

“Yeah. Kinda like soccer. You know?” She started. Knowing she was the only one who knew anything about hockey. “You can yell, cheer, boo. Doesn't really matter because no one really pays attention to the crazy you say.” The group all nod and she knows they will just clap when those around them do.

“So pizza-Jeep boy is wearing what color?” Mosi whisper yells while leaning into MacKenzie’s side during warmups.

“He’s in the blue and maroon jersey. The white is the Flames.” MacKenzie doesn’t take her eyes off the ice looking for Nathan to point him out but feels Mosi’s eyes on her. “Yes, Mo?”

“But… um... never mind.” Mosi stutters strangely.

"There he is." Kenzie ignores and points to the screen where they have a close up of Nathan showing his stats from the previous season.

The game starts which quieted the group’s chatter while everyone but Kenzie tried following the puck and going from watching the ice to the screen and back.

“Let’s go boys!” MacKenzie stands and yells after a big play with everyone in her section turning to look at her.

“Mac!” Drew pulls her down to her seat. “Check your surroundings.”

“You know I don’t care, right?” MacKenzie starts clapping again with a little cheer.

“As always, you do you.” Drew slow claps along as the game progresses.

Even though MacKenzie warned her friends that there might be only a goal or two, the game was high scoring which the friends all enjoyed. Remy cheered when anyone scored regardless of team. Colorado winning made the home crowd pumped and buzzing about being the year.

"We realize the season has over 80 games, right?" Kenzie comments to no one in particular as they head down the stairs.

“Food! Real food and drinks that don’t cost a million bucks.” Mosi begs on the way out.

“Allons! Let’s go!” Remy points to the closest restaurant he can see. "That one! Onward." Remy leads the group over.

Drinks, food, laughter fill the table as they banter back and forth.

“Isn’t that her, Mac?” MacKenzie hears someone nearby. She turns to see Nathan, Cale and a few more guys at a table about ten feet away. Nathan nods. She raises her hand then quickly feels the blood rushing to her face.

“Kenzie Lou, why are you the same color as your jersey?” Remy looks her up and down.

“Oh.” Drew mumbles with his mouth full seeing the table MacKenzie just waved towards.

“Oh yeah, this is gonna be fun!” Mosi clapped and is greeted with a kick under the table. “Ouch. Well it is.”

MacKenzie huffs and stands to her feet. Inhales and walks right over to the table of what she assumed was full of professional hockey players.

“Nice game Nathan.” She stops right at the end of his table and knows her face is still bright red.

“Looks like you were rooting for the other team there. Sorry 'bout that.” One of the boys down the table barks out.

“Hi MacKenzie. Thanks. Were you there? At the game, I mean.” Nathan turns his body towards her.

“Yes. Got tickets because of the foundation thing so we all went.” She gestures towards her eager looking friends. They wave and Nathan waves back with a flick of his wrist.

“Oh cool. So you are a… a Calgary fan?” Nathan gulps hard taking in the home Flames jersey.

“Well, a Tkachuk fan, actually. Yeah.” MacKenzie looks over at the 19 on her shoulder. “He was phenomenal last… ya'll. Well. Yeah.” MacKenzie looks around the amused players and shuts up.

“Sorry, let me introduce you. Guys, this is the other Mac. MacKenzie. Uh. Shit. I never caught your last name.” Nathan looks at her searching for a name.

“Blackwood.” MacKenzie answers and the guy across from Nate spits out his drink. “Um.” She just looks at him.

Nate wipes his face and stares down his teammate. “Are you fucking serious, EJ?”

“Sorry man.” EJ hands him another napkin. “No teeth.” He flashes his massive gap which makes MacKenzie giggle softly and Nathan groan.

“Let me get this straight. You live in Cale and Tyson’s building, volunteer with youth, only seem to follow Tkachuk 'cause you don't seem to know Avs hockey.” He wipes his mouth to continue. MacKenzie recognizes him as the captain from the game. “Have the same name as a goalie in the league, and are giving my boy, Nate here a run for his money.” Gabe winks with a sinister smile.

“Wait what?” MacKenzie puts her fingers to the bridge of her nose.

“What he means is…” Nate starts and MacKenzie places a finger up to stop him.

“No the goalie thing. I’m choosing to ignore the last part for now.” She says which gets a reaction from the entire table.

“Mackenzie Blackwood is a goalie in New Jersey. You happen to have the same name.” Nate explains.

“Gotcha. I’ll be honest, I catch games when I can but it’s background noise.” MacKenzie still feels her cheeks on fire but doesn’t let it stop her. “I will go to a Flames games if I'm in town when they play ya'll then a Blues game when I’m home with my dad and brother. Most of my hockey following is checking stats or social media.” She takes a deep breath not wanting to look directly at the table that all seem mesmerized by her presence. “Anyway, just wanted to say hi, which I did. So…. Nice game gentleman. Enjoy your post game dinner. Good seeing you again Nate. Cale.” MacKenzie nods and turns on her heals to her friends who haven’t touched their food since she left.

"Kenzie Lou!" Remy softly squeals.

"Don't." MacKenzie grits her teeth.

"What the hell did you talk to an entire table of NHL players about?" Mosi ignores her friend's request.

"I guess I have the same name as a goalie in the league." She annoyingly answers.

Drew starts typing before anyone can respond. "Oh yes. Mackenzie Blackwood. K not capitalized. Canadian. 22. New Jersey rookie who started last year. Wait, how does that happen?" Drew looks at MacKenzie's face . "Later. I'll google it later."

"Could we eat please?" MacKenzie takes a drink of her water and starts to finish her meal. She feels a ping on her phone and turns it over to read the notification.

Nathan's i-phone wants to airdrop you. Accept?

MacKenzie looks over and he nods at the phone. She looks back to accept and sees a screenshot from his notes apologizing for being awkward and asking for her number. She seems confused.

"Kenz?" Mosi questions.

"He wants my number." MacKenzie whispers.

"I'm confused." Remy whispers back.

"Found my phone on airdrop. Smart at least." MacKenzie chuckles.

"So airdrop your digits back to him or I will." Mosi pulls her phone out. "I just need to turn on mine. Who keeps it on? You, of course you do Mac." Mosi looks at Kenzie amused.

"Should I?" MacKenzie pulls at her loose curl wrapping it around her finger and letting it bounce back.

"YES!" Drew almost yells. "What could it hurt? Have a new contact for work at the least." Drew knew exactly what would get MacKenzie to send her number. She looks down to see Remy had written down her number on his napkin. The man always had a pen on him.

"Snap this to 'em." Remy pushed it over so MacKenzie did just that. Almost throwing her phone down as soon as she did. It buzzed not even a minute later.

Maybe Nate: Hi Mackenzie. This is Nate.

MacKenzie: Hi Nate. You can call me Kenzie or Mac

Nate: Okay Kenzie.

She looks up at him and he smiles wide.

Kenzie: enjoy your dinner

Nate: Same. I’ll text you later

She didn’t expect to hear from Nate but the next morning while getting ready for work, MacKenzie hears her text notification.

Nate: good morning. We are off Sunday and a few of us are playing cards at Cale’s place. Would you and your friends want to come over? It’s not far for you.

She stares at the text and starts to pace. Then sends out a group text.

Kenzie: Nate and some of the Avs want us to come over Sunday. Thoughts?

MacKenzie got all three messages immediately in return.

Mosi: obviously yes

Drew: yes is the only answer

Remy: fuck ya!

MacKenzie sent a text to Nate saying yes and asked what they could bring. She wasn't surprised Nate said nothing just themselves.

Sunday rolled around. MacKenzie and her friends walked down to Cale’s condo. She stopped in front of the door and Drew reached over her to knock. Kenzie looked up at him.

"What, just making sure we don't have to stand here forever." The door swung open as Drew finishes his statement.

“Nate, they are here and at least she’s not in a Flames jersey today.” The curly haired guy MacKenzie knew was Tyson from a quick google search of the team over the weekend.

“Decided to leave that at home, Tyson, but I can go get it.” MacKenzie points while giving him a half smile.

“Oh, and she...” Tyson turns to see Nathan behind him. “And she knows my name.”

“Sorry, don’t mind him. He got checked a little too hard at practice this morning.” Nathan pulls Tyson back into the condo. “Come in please.” He gestured and they moved past Nathan into the condo that was the mirror image of MacKenzie’s just slightly larger.

"Make yourselves comfortable." Cale popped his head out from the kitchen. "I'm sure you know where everything is."

"Yeah, just backwards." MacKenzie looks down the hall to the rooms. "Two or three?"

"Three. You?" MacKenzie raises two fingers and realizes her friends have already made their way into the living room.

"Thanks for coming." Nate was still standing behind her and she jumped.

"Thanks for inviting us. My mother tells me I need to make more friends here." MacKenzie sighs.

"Same actually. Tells me the team isn't enough." Nathan looks over her at his friends that were also his coworkers.

"Work, travel, and such keep my circle small." MacKenzie admits. "Oddly, same. You travel for work?" Nathan pushes his hands into his pockets and leans against the wall.

"I do then try to do different things for fun, you know?" She leans against the other wall.

"That's cool. Where are you heading next?"

MacKenzie's mind normally would be racing. Thinking of all the reasons why she shouldn't tell this essential stranger her work schedule but something about him made her feel easy. Maybe how he had more to lose if he burnt her. He didn't know what she did for a living but she could make his life miserable. Maybe it was the simplicity of their conversation or the kindness in his eyes. She felt like she could talk to him.

"Colorado Springs then off to Washington D.C. for the rest of the week and into next week." She answered him.

"Oh, I think we are in D.C. next weekend or maybe the beginning of the week." He stares at his foot kicking the invisible dirt then looked back up at MacKenzie.

"We are. Now are you two just gonna talk in the hall or are you gonna play cards here?" Gabe leans around the corner. "We've already gotten to know Kenzie's friends... let's go!" He gives Nate a look that doesn't go unnoticed. The two walk into the living room.

“Do I need to make introductions?” Nate looks around the room at all the eyes on both of them.

“Well, I googled ya’ll in preparation for today… so… I think I’m good.” She scans the room and sees a few of the girlfriends or wives. “Well, I don’t know the ladies.”

Nate took a moment to identify the few sitting around the room and who they belonged to. Pulling out an empty chair for MacKenzie. “Here, you can play here.” She sat down and pulled her legs up criss crossed under her as Gabe explained the rules. The group played poker until there were four left. JT, Nathan, MacKenzie, and Mosi. Mosi kept saying she accidentally won her table which made the competitive men agitated but made MacKenzie amused. Eventually it was just Nathan and MacKenzie.

“Kenzie, I think you and Nate need a wager of some sort.” Drew drops a bottle of water next to her and she glares up at him.

“I’m game.” Nate pipes up.

“Okay, so what if I win?” Kenzie takes a sip of water.

“Glass seats at the game of your choice.” Gabe declares.

“Okay, and if Nate wins?” Kenzie directs her attention to the captain who now has his hands on Nathan’s shoulders.

“You go out to dinner with him.” Gabe squeezes Nathan’s shoulders and smiles at Kenzie.

“Uh…” Nathan tries to nervously interject.

“That’s fine.” Kenzie tries to control her blush by not directly looking at Nathan then overcomes it to look right into his soft eyes. "Let's play."

Cale starts to deal and everyone can feel the shift of all eyes on the table even though most had scattered once they were knocked out in individual conversations. After three hands, Nathan goes all in.

"I think he's bluffing." MacKenzie whispers and pushes all her chips to the center.

"Kenzie..." He breathes out and Gabe's hand returns to his shoulder.

They place their cards down and Nathan wins with a full house. The cheers start and Nathan just stares at Kenzie who gives him a small smile. She gets up and heads to the kitchen to grab a drink. Finding Cale's rum and starts pouring more than necessary into her diet coke. Takes a drink and feels someone behind her.

"Drew, I'm not that competitive." She doesn't even turn around.

"It's not Drew." Nate murmurs.

MacKenzie turns around slowly. "Sorry. Nice game." She raises her glass to him.

"We don't have to go out for dinner, you know." Nathan shifts his weight.

"Well, a deal is a deal, right?" Kenzie tries not to breath him in as he reaches around her for a water but he smells amazing. He shrugs his shoulders. "If I won, would I have glass seats?" She leans into the counter.

"Yes, you can still have them if you want." Nate fiddles with the bottle, flicking at the paper label.

"So, dinner. When we both get back in town, okay?" Kenzie takes a sip and looks up at Nathan.

"Yes, I'll have my people call your people then." Nathan laughs.

"So Gabe will call Mosi?" MacKenzie bites her cheek with her comeback.

"Oooorrrr... I'll just text you." Nathan replies.

MacKenzie takes a drink again and winces with the burn. "That works too."

#leave her wild fic #N MacKinnon fic #Nate the great 29 #K's new series #2019 hockey season #nathan mackinnon

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airi-p4 · 3 years

Text

Love in the sky

I wrote this for the @lovebugs-and-snakecharmers LBSC Sprint challenge - Meet cute week event and, once again, I got carried away and broke all the rules. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Prompt: Sitting next to each other on the plane.

Summary: Marinette is going to NY on an international flight for the first time. What she doesn’t know is that the one seated next to her is the popular new band Kitty Section’s guitarist: Luka Couffaine.

Thank you @livrever for checking it for me 💙

AO3

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Marinette rushed through the aisle of the plane. She couldn’t believe she almost missed it! her first international trip to the US! Stupid alarm! Of course she was tired. She was so nervous she couldn’t sleep all night… until 5AM… and the plane departed at 10AM… and obviously she had to oversleep. *sigh*

Running, tripping and spinning on her feet, she finally searched for her seat. 38B - aisle seat. Her pink polka dotted suitcase was heavy, but thanks to the cabin attendant she could finally put it inside the overhead bin, while her backpack rested under the seat in front of her. All set, she let her weight fall on the seat at last and let out a deep breath as she fastened her seatbelt.

The doors of the plane closed, and the PA message started: Welcome on board… Security instructions… Marinette wasn’t listening. Her legs were uncontrollably shaking, and her fingers were fidgeting with the laces of her hoodie.

Those nerves and stress couldn’t be healthy.

She examined her surroundings, and, next to her, someone was sleeping. Someone, who appeared to be a young man, with a sleeping eye mask and a face mask on, messy blue hair showing under a knit hat and a blanket covering his body. Overall, it didn't give much more information about her plane's seat neighbor. Not wanting to wake him up, she focused on the rest of the passengers instead. Why were all of them so quiet when she felt her heart could burst out of her chest anytime?

The plane started its runaway and Marinette closed her eyes tightly when it raised from the lane. Once in the air, she started breathing again, but her heart was still beating fast.

"First time on a plane?" a masculine voice beside her asked.

She turned to her side, and looked at the person seated next to her. His eye mask was over his head now, and she could see his blue eyes clearly, while his blue bangs partly covered his eyebrows.

“Y- yes!” she squeaked.

“You’re making me nervous too. Calm down, it’s going to be ok” he assured.

“I- I know!" She said, but her body wasn’t obeying. “I’m sorry...”

The young man sighed. “Look, I’ve been on a plane many times. It’s safe. Why don’t you try to sleep? It’s going to be a long flight.”

“I- I can’t! I’m too nervous! I’ve never traveled alone before, plus my career depends on this trip! I can’t stay calm!”

“Why don’t you try listening to some music, then? It always helps me relax” the young man offered her a sympathetic look.

“Music…?” she blinked. ‘It could work’.

She plugged the earphones and put them in her ears. Then, she scrolled through the music programs on the touch screen in front of her. Classical music? For some reason, it only made it worse. Country music? Not her style. XY? Hell, no. Her eyes stopped at the name of a fairly new band: “Kitty Section”. She played the video called: “Kitty Section's Paris Live Concert”.

“Good choice” the man next to her said when the title started showing on the screen.

Marinette had heard about the band called Kitty Section. They had featured in most of her favorite magazines after they won Eurovision several months ago, but she wasn't familiar with their music. In less than a minute, she was hooked and forgot completely about her surroundings or her nerves.

“Wow!” she mumbled, mesmerized, and the man next to her let out a snicker.

The music was amazing- the rock vibes, their stage presence, the vocalists’ cuteness and high ranged voice, the accurate and insane drums, the gorgeous purple haired bassist… all of them sounded incredible. But the guitarist… the blue haired guitarist was extraordinary- unbelievably good. Not only talented, but also powerful, charismatic and incredibly handsome.

“They’re good, huh?” The man beside her commented and she nodded. She could tell he was smiling under his face mask. She nodded in agreement.

“I had never heard them properly before but damn- they are incredible” Marinette answered, and he laughed. Her fingers tapped rhythmically, following the beat of the song. “But…" she continued, observing. "I think they could do better. There’s a margin of improvement,” she said with judging eyes.

“Oh, really? How?” The blue-eyed man asked, curious, resting his elbow on the arm rest to get a closer look.

“The costumes,” Marinette pointed out. Then, she reached her backpack under her feet and took out a sketchbook and a pen and started drawing. “The outfits could be improved if they added this, and this” she signaled. “And this-” She kept scribbling while the blue-haired man observed and listened to her suggestions. “And ta-da! Wouldn’t they look even better if they were like this?” She proudly showed him her designs, only to realize she was being embarrassing towards a stranger. “Ah, sorry- I got carried away…” She apologized. But the man took the sketchbook in his hands.

“Let me see,” he said, and she saw how his eyes examined every detail of her drawings. She gulped nervously. It felt like her skills were being tested. But the man took his face mask off and smiled. “Wow, that’s impressive. Fresh, charismatic, unique- and perfectly according to the band's style. I love them" he returned her the sketchbook. "You’re very talented. Are you famous? Do you take commissions?” He asked, and she looked at him speechless.

“I- I’m still a no-one… Is it really impressive?” She looked at him and blushed at the compliment.

“Yes, I think so. What would you do with this outfit?” He asked, showing him a photo of the same band on his smartphone. Her inspiration overflowed as she kept drawing and explaining her ideas. They kept discussing costumes and visual aspects of the band and chatted comfortably for a long time.

"I think Rose should go with something more… daring, bolder. She looks innocent but she's fierce inside. Of course, cuteness is her main trait, so I think she should combine both" she explained, coloring her design with colored pencils. "I think something like this would be perfect for her" she showed him her sketchbook and he was impressed. “As for Juleka-” She continued, turning to a blank page. “She’s so beautiful. I wish she didn’t cover her face so much, even if the mystery look is really attractive too…" She stopped drawing for a moment to admire the bassist on the screen. "Gosh- She's so gorgeous! I wish I was that beautiful” she commented.

“I think you’re even more beautiful than her, you know?” The blue-haired man casually said, and she shyly blushed with a 'no way' frantic arms movements. “What about the guitarist?” he asked, raising an eyebrow with a smug smile.

“Luka Couffaine? OH LORD SHOW MERCY- Have you seen him? And his eyeliner? It should be ILLEGAL to be this HOT” She said, convinced.

“Hmmm… So you like him, huh?” He teased, his smile widening.

“Who doesn’t, really?” She shrugged. “He’s literally the SEXIEST man alive. His eye contact with the camera could kill! Oh, and whenever he gets shirtless on stage or photoshoots? GOD- I almost get a nosebleed EVERY FREAKING TIME! He's TOO DAMN HOT" She fanned herself at the image. "Don’t you agree?" She asked and he blinked twice. "You like him too, right? You have so many photos of them in your phone! I bet he’s making you question your sexuality too, like he does with all my friends! How could anyone resist those blue eyes and his manly features, his soft looking blue hair and- his tattoos..." She looked away from her seat neighbor's blue piercing eyes, and focused at the smartphone screen again, to a close-up photo of Kitty Section’s guitarist. "How did you get these close-up casual photos...?” she asked, and then she noticed the tattoo on his neck. She looked back and forth at the man seated next to her and the one in the picture. ‘It couldn't be, right…?’ And at that moment, when he had a knowing smile on his face- one she knew too well-, she realized who he was seated next to on the plane. Her eyes opened as big as plates and she overheated. He was smirking amusingly at her reaction. “You- You- You are-? Lu-Lu-Luk- It can’t be…”

He nodded to confirm her suspicions and her jaw fell to the floor. “Hi. I think I haven't introduced myself yet. My name is Luka. But I think you already know that. It’s nice to meet you.” He chuckled, straightening his hand for a handshake.

“Oh God, kill me now...” She mumbled, sinking on the table. Luka snickered.

“What’s your name?”

“Ma-Ma-Marinette… I mean- Marinette!” She felt his eyes on her and panicked. “Excuse me- I- I need a moment... This- This is too much- Oh My God...” She stood up and rushed to the end of the plane, not without tripping twice on her way there.

________________________

While Marinette was gone, the two ladies in front of Luka and Marinette’s seats turned to Luka. “Having fun?” They smirked, knowingly. He was chuckling, having real trouble to keep his laugh from escaping.

“Oh, God, Yes. This is so much fun." He wiped the tears that were forming on his eyes. "I think I’ve found our potential new costume designer” he continued laughing under his nose.

“Only that? I think there’s more...” Juleka smirked, and Rose giggled in agreement by her side. He couldn't deny it: his sister was totally right.

Behind Luka's seat, Kitty Section's drummer, Ivan and his girlfriend Mylene had been enjoying the show the blue-eyed pair had been giving. It was definitely more entertaining than any movie. It would have been perfect if they had popcorn to accompany their fortunate first row seats to the hilarious show. They also approved Marinette's designs.

Luka took the chance Marinette wasn't there to freely stand up, go talk to their managers and stretch his legs for a bit.

_________________________

Back at the end of the plane, Marinette drank some juice and moved to the bathroom. She was panicking in front of the mirror, talking to herself.

“OH. MY. GOD. I’m seated next to Luka Couffaine! For at least… 5 hours more!? And I just called him hot! And- And- he said I’m beautiful and talented! And- Oh my God, he asked me for commissions, right? This can’t be real- I-" her feet wiggled uncontrollably and she let out a long squeak. "Ahh… Calm down, Marinette! He’s human- A sexy human, but still human! He’s famous but very friendly, kind and nice. And fun! It’s going to be alright. Just- Avoid his eyes. That’s it. It’s dangerous. Don’t fall in love. You’re not a teenager anymore, you’re over that stage, right? Only a few hours more. You can do it. I CAN DO IT!” She convinced herself with a confident nod and returned to her seat, only to find Luka was gone.

She looked for him from her seat, at her surroundings, but he was nowhere to be found. She sighed in both relief and sadness as she seated.

For some reason, she was missing him. Which was stupid, considering they had just met! But his company was certainly enjoyable... And, moreover, it was FUN. More than she ever remembered having. And not only because she was passionate about fashion or music. It had to do with his aura, his personality, his gentle manners- just... Luka.

“Don’t worry, he’ll be back in a moment” A voice said from in front of her. “My brother is stupid, but he’s a decent person. Treat him well” The purple haired lady winked, beside a petit blond lady.

“Jul-!” She covered her mouth with her hands to stop herself from yelling her name. “And Rose-!?” 'Oh, no! They might have heard what I said too!' She panicked again and the ladies giggled amused.

“Ignore my sister and her girlfriend” Luka returned, and her face flustered when she noticed how tall and well built he was (not that she didn't know that, but it hit differently in first person). “Can I get back to my seat?” He politely asked, pointing at the window seat.

“Ah-! Yes! Of course!” She stood up so suddenly she tripped and fell on Luka’s chest. She immediately moved away in embarrassment, falling back instead, and Luka had to hold her again to avoid her imminent fall. “I’m sorry!”

“Are you ok?” He asked in concern, and she shyly nodded. Luka reluctantly let go of her and returned to his seat and Marinette settled back to hers.

Wait- Was that a blush on his face?

“Here” Luka offered her an envelope. “I don’t know what your plans in NY are but, here’s a VIP pass to our concert next Sunday. There’s also our contact card inside. I want you to consider the idea of working for us. Your costumes are impressive. We discussed it, and we want you in our team” Marinette had no words- totally speechless. Could she be this lucky? “What do you say?” Luka asked with a hopeful tender smile that made her weak.

“I- I’ll think about it. And- Oh God- I’ll totally be there for your concert” She blushed and Luka smiled kindly at her. Suddenly, she started searching inside her backpack, and took out a business card she offered him. “This is my contact. I- I have a fashion event next Monday. I would love you to come, if you can make it. Send me an email and I’ll get you some passes”

“Wow! That's impressive. I'll try to make it. Thank you, Marinette”

Marinette could hear her heart beating faster. No looking in his eyes, dammit. They kept talking for a while, enjoying their time together until they fell asleep out of exhaustion, Marinette’s head resting on Luka’s shoulder. He woke up earlier than her, but didn’t have the heart to wake her up until lunchtime. She looked like she really needed that rest.

When he left half of his lunch untouched, Marinette scolded him. “You have to eat! You’re too thin! Those abs and arms need consistency! Proteins!” She pointed at a photo of him shirtless and flustered again in embarrassment in realization. “Ah-”

Gosh- it really was fun, Luka thought, chucking. It was hard not to laugh out loud. Everything flowed so naturally it was unbelievable.

Damn. He didn’t want the plane to ever land.

“Marinette” he called, during their coffee time, and she looked back at him, redness still on her cheeks. “The plane will land soon but- Even if you don’t accept our offer… Is it possible for us to meet again? Out of business? Like this?”

Marinette flustered at his implications. “Do- Do you mean-?”

“A date. Would you go on a date with me, Marinette? Or just as friends, if you prefer. I like you, and I don’t think I’ve ever had this much fun with anyone else” He took Marinette’s pen and one of his ‘Kitty Section’ contact cards and wrote something behind it. “These are my personal telephone number and email. We'll be in NY until Friday next week. It would make me very happy if you contact me, whenever you prefer, anytime” He said, securing the card in her hands.

Marinette blushed, looked at the card with glowing eyes, and then at his honest loving stare. Was it even possible that the man everyone was gushing about was asking her out? But this had nothing to do with his stage persona. Luka was someone she more than enjoyed spending time with. Naturally, quietly, assuring… She had no doubts about her answer.

“I want to meet you again, too” she stated, and wrote her personal number under his wristband. “I’m free on Wednesday” she shyly smiled, and his smile widened.

“Wednesday is it, then. I'll manage to find the time. Just for you." He smiled happily and only then she realized how deep she had fallen.

Ah- she hadn't wanted to fall in love. What a way to fail her own determination… But she couldn't complain, not at all.

And he felt the same way.

Luka and Marinette's hands locked together, and they lost themselves in each other’s eyes, smiling at each other.

“Why don’t you kiss her already, dumbass?” Juleka called, and Marinette blushed. “He won’t kiss you if you don’t give him proper permission, you know? He’s very considerate despite his looks. Tell him already”

“Jules… Why don’t you mind your business and make out with Rose instead?” He shushed his sister and Rose giggled, embracing Juleka. Luka returned his attention to Marinette. “Sorry about that”

“It’s ok… I-” She started, looking at his thin lips. “Will you kiss me if I want to? Because I think I do...”

“You do?” he asked, and she shyly nodded and he smiled softly, making her heart flutter.

She closed her eyes and he leaned closer to give her a sweet kiss on her cheek. She pouted a little, in disappointment, but he told her that, if she really wanted to kiss him, that would be the perfect excuse to meet him again and make it more special, like a beautiful lady like her deserved. Marinette understood his reasoning and agreed with it, despite the slight disappointment she felt she would have to wait a few days to get the chance to kiss him. Nevertheless, both of them happily smiled while their fingers remained interlaced, chatting and enjoying their time together the rest of the flight, until the plane landed and they had to unavoidably say their farewells.

“Thank you for everything, Luka. I forgot how scared I was of planes thanks to you and- I’ll see you soon?”

“I really hope so. I still owe you something, right?" He winked and she blushed happily. Luka gave her a final discreet and quick kiss on her knuckles. "Gosh- I miss you already...” He added, and Marinette felt the urge to cry. She dropped her bag to hold him in a needed embrace. He gladly reciprocated her gesture. Despite neither wanting to separate, they forced themselves to. "I hope I see you soon, Marinette"

"Me too, Luka…" she wiped her tears and waved, as the band started walking away.

When the arrivals doors opened and all the camera flashes blinded her, she understood why Kitty Section members always wore sunglasses in airports. They were more popular than she could have expected. She understood why he had refused to kiss her outside of the plane, but he still saluted her before disappearing in the multitude of fans and paparazzis.

On the other side, Sabrina, Audrey Bourgeois’ assistant, waited for her. She had almost forgotten about her own business. But now, she found the motivation she had lacked. If she was willing to be with Luka, she had to become the best. She wanted to make a name of herself, more than ever. And her meeting with Luka certainly boosted her confidence.

Unexpectedly, her trip to NY had already become one of her most memorable experiences yet. And it had just started! She couldn't wait to spend the rest of the week in the city.

#my fic #airipyon #airip4 #lbsc sprint fic #lbsc sprint fic challenge #LBSC sprint challenge #lukanette fic #Pro LukaMari #endgame lukanette #nevermind the title- i'm super bad at them #I kinda want to write part 2 #but I don't need more WIPs ;v;#I need to finish them instead Dammit XD

60 notes · View notes

burnedbyshoto · 4 years

Text

temerity

― the perfect job for an overworked, tired, and romantic you is obviously a stressful, demanding, but oh so aesthetic coffeeshop. your job only becomes better when a handsome redhead appears through the door with a loud bang, and you can do nothing but fall for him. or the five times kirishima orders coffee and the one time he doesn’t.

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pairing: kirishima eijirou x fem!reader

warnings: cursing, fluff, light angst, pining, coffee shop!au, modern!au, college!au, happy ending, five times he did and one time he didn’t trope

word count: 9,394

a/n: happy birthday to my beautiful love @ikinabi!!!! this was written for you based off of your favorite tropes including your favorite word, bet you saw this coming a mile away because my interrogation for this was absolute ass. also sorry for the angst, I couldn’t help myself! for the rest of you non-reds, this was a pretty damn fun piece to write. kirishima was modeled after how red sees him too, sorry. I haven’t typed that much in a single sitting in a long time, so it was p refreshing. like always, enjoy and leave a comment if you enjoyed ;-; (oh and thank you all for kiri coffee taste suggestions)

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O N E

Working in a small coffee shop isn’t exactly what you had once thought it to be.

For years you had been attending the small coffee shop just by your university. Most of your studying, homework, and late-night mental breakdowns had taken place in the corner of the shop, hidden from the sight of the patrons, which was conventionally the best spot for the strongest wifi.

You had been there so many times, having tried every single drink on their menu, and had gotten to know every worker there ― including the owners. So when the invitation to work there was brought up the one night you showed up in hysterics because you had lost your other job, it shouldn’t have taken you by surprise.

So now, in your final year of university, you stood at the counter. A textbook cracked open near the register light, the gentle coffee shop tunes playing merrily in the background. The intricate, familiar, and distinguished smell of both fresh and aging coffee beans with day-old pastries soaked deep into every centimeter of the room.

The coffee shop was typically slow at this time at night, most people, thankfully, choosing to keep their caffeine addictions primarily in the mornings. Or, as a student had once confessed, didn’t want to make your job more demanding, so they made their own caffeinated drink this late at night. Regardless, it didn’t matter; the morning and afternoon crowds at this coffee shop were busy enough for you to be grateful for this downtime, especially as midterm season was beginning to approach. With this upcoming season, you knew you would be pouring liters of coffee down red-eyed, broken-spirited, college students' throats in the coming days.

Humming, you flipped the page of your biochem textbook, information on amino acids and protein structure twisting in your mind. At the same time, you tried to absorb the chaotic, overflowing amount of information presented on a single page. With a pen to your lip, you frowned at the sentence, rereading phrases over and over again as you struggled to figure out just why Hydrogen formation was so important.

That didn’t last for too long, fortunately.

For when you were about to scream to your coworker who was hiding away in the backroom about how amino acids could go fuck themselves, the front door slammed open.

Despite the wooden door being extremely, almost stupidly heavy (to the point where there was a sign that clearly read: YES WE ARE OPEN, THE DOOR IS JUST REALLY HEAVY, outside), it crashed into the wall, causing a loud smack to rattle the shop. You, having been so absorbed in your studies, jumped at the sound. Your body flinched as a surprised shriek left your lips.

“Oh shit, I’m so sorry! It said the door was heavy, but I didn’t think it would slam open like that!” came an apologetic and obviously embarrassed voice from the entrance.

Your heart was pounding with adrenaline. You focused your attention on the man who was frantically checking potential damages to both the door and the wall. All while he continued to apologize.

Red hair and red eyes are the first things you noticed about him.

Red hair that obviously was dyed, red, warm eyes seemed smooth and seemed to melt into sugary brown, and a rather large scar over his right eye that stopped just at his eyebrow. His smile was broad, exceedingly bright, albeit stiff.

Despite your pumping blood and the way that your fingertips tingle with your fear, a smile and laugh pressed to your lips as he fumbled to close the door behind him (although it was nearly closed by the time he fumbled for the metal brass door handle). Pushing up off the counter from where you were lying, you shut the textbook you had, waving off the new customer.

“No worries! Most people either overcompensate or can’t open the door at all,” you explained with a pinching smile, the laughter in your tone so noticeable despite your intent to keep your humor hidden. Your smile and softly thudding heart only seemed to increase stupidly as the red-headed man approached the cash register.

He was dressed horribly.

He wore an orange gym shirt, most definitely worn with age, and a bit too small on his… physique, navy blue basketball shorts that had white stripes on the side of his thigh, and black athletic crew socks with bright red crocs.

A living, walking fashion disaster.

“Um,” you stifled a teasing snort, “what can I get for ya?”

The man (was he a himbo? he seemed like he could be one through his appearance alone!) crossed his arms across his chest, lower lip jutting out as he read the menu under his breath with curious, wide eyes. His head tilted to the side, his gaze seemingly stuck on a single area of the menu, and with all the curiosity of the world weighing down on you at this one, very moment, you turned behind you.

“Anything catching your eye?”

“This is… uh, this is my first time in here,” he admitted, his gaze falling from the menu, catching your own eye when you turned back around to face him. His eyes were wide, clear as they were alarmingly honest; he paused for a bit before eventually adding, “actually.”

“Well,” you began, your own honest smile brightening on your face, “lucky for you, I’ve tried everything on this menu. Pick your poison, I can tell you what everything tastes like.”

His eyes widen in what you can only recognize as being overwhelmed, but you try to hide the way your smile is turning into a smirk when he begins to list out drinks.

Drink after drink he names, most of them being dark, black, bitter-tasting coffees, and you can see some hesitation in him with each name he lists.

“You don’t seem to know what kinda coffee you like, huh?” you eventually point out once he’s had you repeat the entire menu for the dark roasts the shop had.

“That would be embarrassing if it wasn’t for the fact that I’ve never had coffee in my life before,” he laughed partially in embarrassment, but much more in some underlying mirth and energy, he seemed to easily hold. Energy that seemed to warm your chest more than any cup of coffee on a cold morning. “I’m what you could call a coffee virgin.”

Now that got a snort out of you.

“Okay, coffee virgin,” you teased, immediately grabbing a kids' throwaway cup behind the counter. “You should’ve started with that!”

“I didn’t want to come off as uncultured! I mean, I’m down at the university, the uni down the street, I’m a university student myself! But being twenty-one and never having coffee before? It just seems… I don’t know so unmanly!”

All while he was confessing the reason as to why he had never in his life had a single cup of coffee, you had poured the simmering black coffee that he was most interested in into the cup. It was filled with only a small amount of the black, bitter liquid, just enough to give him a good taste of the drink. Placing the kids' cup in front of him with a satisfactory thunk, you grinned up at him.

His hand was pressed to the back of his neck, an almost shameful look on his face with just the smallest blush brightening his cheeks and ear tips.

“I think it’s cool you’re a uni student without a coffee addiction,” you smile earnestly, pressing the kids' cup closer to him. “Shows a different kind of man that you’re able to handle a workload without a caffeine drip.”

If you didn’t know better (and honestly, you didn’t, you were probably projecting the weird stranger crush you had seamlessly formed on him), you would have said he forgot how to speak. He clears his throat, his embarrassment fading into a small, soft smile, and he picks up the cup.

“Thank you for the sample.”

He takes a drink of the warm liquid, and immediately he seems to crush the paper cup in his hand, a suppressed hysteric of coughing spluttering past his fisted hand on his mouth, tears springing into his eyes. You yelped in surprise, hands fluttering out to smack him on the arm in a failed attempt to reach his back.

“O-Oh my god!” he eventually wheezed, his eyes staring down at the crushed cup as if it was some sort of vermin, a creature that had no use being alive but still pitied it. His other hand wiped at his lips as to rid of its taste. His head snapped back towards you, his eyes wet with betrayal from both his thoughts and taste buds. “Can you do something, not this at all?!”

You purse your lips for a second, thinking about just what could suit his apparent dislike for bitter, black coffee. With a single idea in your head, you leaned forward onto the counter, a smile back on your lips.

“Do you like cinnamon rolls?”

He blinked.

“Who doesn’t?”

“For here or to go?” you asked, head tilting to the side before you eventually remembered that the shop was closing in a few minutes. “Actually, it’ll be to go!”

“O-Oh, okay!”

“Can I get a name?” you asked, your hand grabbing the paper cup and a sharpie to write his name. There was no reason for you to write down his name; he was the only person in the shop right now.

“K-Kiripima,” he answers with wide eyes and red cheeks. Your eyebrows scrunch.

“Kiripima?”

“No! I’m, oh my god, this is so unmanly of me,” he bemoaned, his head shaking. “Kirishima Eijirou! I’m Kirishima Eijirou!”

The pealing laughter that erupted from your mouth stood no chance at being silenced. And so with an embarrassed nod of your own, you pressed off the counter, writing his name was the neatest writing you had, before setting off.

You worked fast behind the counter, making the specialized drink just for the blushing himbo of a man before you, well, at least until he interrupted your chain of thoughts and actions.

“Biochem, right?”

Placing the cup where the steamed milk machine was, you turned to look at Kiri(p)shima, who was pointing at your textbook with an all too familiar look on his face that told you he recognized it.

“Unfortunately,” you smiled at him, eventually shrugging. “I also go to the uni down the street.”

“Aw damn, sucks I’ve never seen you there before!” he laughs, rubbing the back of his neck when he glances up at you from the textbook before looking back down. “I took this class last semester!”

“Oh? Who’d you have?” you asked, continuing on with your work, your suspicion of him being a himbo slightly dwindling.

“Chaney!” he responded, and you looked over at him; you had him this semester, too. “It was the worst! I dropped out the first week! Didn’t help that I thought biochem was a split biology and chemistry course… teaches me not to listen to Kaminari and Mina… ah, I mean, my friends!”

Himbo indeed.

Laughing at his flux in judgment, you placed the steaming cup of sweet, sweet coffee in front of Kirishima, hands pressing onto your hips as you did so.

“How about this?”

You watch as the redhead grins at you, picking up the cup of coffee and drinking it despite your last second squeak that it was probably way too hot to be consumed.

“HOLY SHIT! This is so much better! It tastes just like cinnamon rolls! Bro, you have some serious talent!” Kirishima yelled, his eyes not quite as bright, but his smile definitely still as warm. “How much will it be?”

“On the house,” you admitted with a shrug, your cheeks warming with his look of disbelief. “I took your, uh, coffee virginity away and nearly killed ya, it’s the least I could do!”

Kirishima narrows his gaze on you, his smile softening in tandem while he looks over at the menu again, taking another stiff sip of the coffee.

You watch as he takes his wallet out of his pocket, and with a little effort, pulls out two thousand yen.

“For the next few customers then, yeah?” he smoothly states, already moving back towards the door long before you could demand that he come back and take his money with him.

“Hey!” Kirishima yells, his hand had opened the heavy ass door with no problem or strain. “What's your name?”

“Why?!” you yelled back despite your instincts screaming at you to tell him your name.

His grin stretches so widely you take notice of his glinting, almost abnormally sharp canines from the counter.

“So, I know who to blame for my caffeine addiction!”

You laugh.

“Y/l/n y/n,” you smile, your stomach flipping at the way he seems to brighten with that information. “I promise that’s my real name too, no mess-ups.”

Kirishima laughs, red staining his face.

“Guess we can’t all be as amazing as you, huh?”

You didn’t get the chance to even scream in your fluster because he was already gone. The heavy wooden door closed by the time your coworker emerged from the back, an all too curious look on their face.

“What was that?”

You shrug, a smile stretching further on your face.

“Hopefully, a new regular.”

T W O

“Kiripima!”

If there was a way for you to not giggle at the way Kirishima nearly slammed the door through the wall in his shock embarrassment, you would have liked to know.

“My name is Kirishima, y/l/n!” he yelled back, his cheeks the same color as his spiked hair. “I mean, if you want to call me Kiripima, that’s okay! It’s just… my name is Kiri-shima!”

“Sorry, sorry, Kiripima was too cute to resist!” you admitted with a smirk, your body leaning forward, elbows pressed onto the counter, hands pressed against your cheeks. “What can I get for you so late at night, Kiri-shima?”

Kirishima smiles broadly, his hands sinking into his pockets as he walks over towards you and the counter. He’s dressed much more normally today, he wore black jeans that are slightly dirty with some sort of white powder, and his shirt is a crimson red. It’s tight against his biceps but fits him much better than the last shirt he wore, and on the fabric right above his heart, lays a simple print: FATGUM’S GRUB.

“Nightshift, unfortunately, finally caught me this week!” Kirishima sighs, his shoulder-shrugging but the smile remaining just as firmly on his face. “It’s no biggie, though; it’s for one of my bros who needed the night off!”

“Oh, so you’re an everyday hero?” you tease, enjoying the way that he grins wide enough to show off his sharp canines before it humbles into an embarrassed smile. “How manly of you.”

“Nothing anyone else wouldn’t do,” he mumbled, his gaze falling to your shoulder in his embarrassment.

“Alright, alright, if you say so,” you relent, sighing softly before straightening up and smiling up at the red-haired man who was busy taking in your menu once again with significant hesitation. “What can I get for you this time, Kirishima?”

Kirishima’s eyes glinted over, a laugh once again rumbling in his chest before he sighed, “What do you suggest for me, y/l/n?”

And so, at nearly ten p.m., you stood behind the cash register, Kirishima’s coffee long since given to him, and the two of you were intently talking, laughter and enthusiastic yelling being exchanged fervently.

You learned his name was Kirishima Eijirou; he was twenty-one years old, born and raised in Musutafu. You knew that while yes, he most definitely a himbo (something you confirmed with strategic questions, and not straight up asking him), he was an engineering major! He played a ton of sports but seemed to prefer heavy contact sports, rugby, and soccer being his top choice of sport. You even found out that this man (who often used the term manly in a way that meant ‘approved by Kirishima’) was the biggest fan of the old movies and comic book hero Crimson Riot. You figured this out when he pulled out his phone to show you a picture of his new goldfish and accidentally revealed his lock screen being him and the famous actor behind the superhero.

“You’re telling me you’ve NEVER seen an All Might movie, but you’ve seen ALL the Crimson Riot movies?!” Kirishima yelled, his arms shooting out past the counter to grab you by the shoulders, shaking you intensely with the biggest, goofiest smile on his face.

“Be careful with your coffee!” you squealed, trying to keep his elbow from knocking over his cup that had still gone untouched.

“Y/L/N!” he exasperated, pulling himself in closer to you, his eyes wide and bright, quickly drowning you with his radiant energy and overwhelming enthusiasm. “Answer!!!”

“Oh my god! Yes, Kirishima! I have never seen an All Might film but have seen every single Crimson Riot film!” you confess, your cheeks hurting from your laughter, and growing sense of embarrassment because everyone in the world has seen the All Might movies!

Hell, even people who weren’t from Japan had seen them all!

The movie superhero was a blockbuster smash with every movie they did!

“Why not?! How not?!”

“Because my dad never let me watch them growing up because the guide warnings,” you wheezed, your stomach cramping with your laughter, your hands grabbing onto his sturdy ― and holy fuck, were they sturdy ― biceps trying to ease his excited(???) shaking. “Besides, my dad is a hardcore Crimson Riot fan; he would have a heart attack and die if he heard that I went to go watch an All Might film.”

“Holy shit,” Kirishima breathed, a glazed over glee washing over his face in some euphoric bliss. “Your dad… is so manly, I think I could marry him.”

Your laughter only grew when Kirishima wiped tears from his eyes, and you patted his arm in your condolences.

“I think he would not take to someone claiming to be the biggest Crimson Riot fan!”

Kirishima grin only grew, “Bet he wouldn’t!”

You tilted your head, your smile becoming a bit lopsided, ready to take that bet right there, right now. You knew your dad was most definitely still awake at this time.

But the words never got to pass your mouth because as soon as you opened your mouth to speak, a loud ringtone interrupted you.

You also hated the fact that you recognized the ringtone to be the Crimson Riots theme song.

Kirishima’s warm hands pulled away from you, his overeagerness abandoned as he pulled out his phone and pressed it to his ear without checking who was calling.

“It’s Ei, talk to me.”

The nickname of his first name caused your stomach to flip, his smooth baritone voice easily sending shivers down your spine. Still, with the mention of such an intimate nickname… the chill crawling down your spine, teasing every nerve in your system, was inevitable.

You watched Kirishima’s face. The way that he easily took in the words of whoever was on the other side of the line. The smile on his face remained if only muted just a bit as he agreed left and right with whoever was on the other side.

“Nah, I can get there in a few! Don’t worry about it, Fat, I normally show up early to shifts regardless, I don’t blame ya! Yeah, yeah, okay, yeah! Yeah! See ya soon!”

Disappointment blossomed in your chest, the horrible feeling of having to say goodbye to a customer who had only come in twice! Twice! Most times, you never wanted to see any customers, even some regulars, more than once in your lifetime! But again, there had been no other customer in your life as a barista that had been as kind, friendly, and hot as Kirishima.

“Well, I gotta go now,” Kirishima softly sighed, his lips pressing into a half-smile, his eyebrows scrunched together in his (maybe) reluctance to leave. “Fat, er, my boss, got overloaded with the late-night munchies, so…”

“Time for the fanboy to leave?” you finished for him, your fingers looping into your apron, your eyes glancing at the clock that showed you that you should’ve been cleaning up five minutes ago.

“Yeah, sadly!” Kirishima laughed, his hand grabbing the coffee and pocketing his phone as he made his way to the front door. You followed after him, ready to lock the door after him in case some desperate customer tried to come in. “Well, thank you for the coffee again! I gotta see just how much you know about the greatest superhero ever the next time I drop by!”

You smiled.

“Next time?”

Kirishima paused for a bit, “Yeah, next time!” he pushed through the front door, and you watched as he exited the shop, his body turning so he was looking at you while he walked backward. “I told ya, y/l/n, it's pretty unmanly of you, but you got me hooked on caffeine!”

There was no time for you to argue otherwise because he turned on his heel just as quickly and began jogging off to his own job.

“You’ll close up by yourself?” your bitchy coworker asked, and you startled, seeing that she was also pushing past the door. “You kept us over way later because you can’t stop flirting with the customers, which by the way, is against protocol.”

You roll your eyes.

“Yeah, whatever, bye.”

T H R E E

“Next in line, please!”

It was busy.

As you had once thought many, many weeks ago, the midterm season had finally come with full force, and it was horrible. There were at least four crying college students found in any of the studying rooms the shop had from sun up to sundown. Some of the students were found soaking their tears onto the worn leather sofa, some moments from dying on the plenty of counters and tables.

On multiple days there had been students who stayed the entire day, drinking whole pots worth of black coffee when they were ordinarily sweet coffee drinkers. You had to give some freshmen girl a tight hug the other day who was seconds from taking a W on her transcripts because she absolutely could no longer handle her math class. You had the unfortunate time of giving a student the news that no, today was not Thursday, it’s Friday, so yes… they missed their midterm for a professor who would refuse to reschedule any missed exam.

But it wasn’t all too bad.

Kirishima had been showing up practically every day now; he would order a pastry every time, opting out of a drink by showing you his three-liter water bottle. It was nice to have someone like Kirishima around (partially because you usually worked with a younger coworker,) who was both strong and sweet. He wasn’t majorly concerned about his midterms, stating that he had study groups with his friends and had been on top of his game and only came to the coffee shop to do light personal studying. So, during your mad dashes to make the 2,783rd cup of coffee within your shift, you couldn’t help but glance over at Kirishima, who was comforting crying students. When they weren’t crying, and you weren’t desperately trying to appease the caffeine raged customers, he chatted with you, seated on the counter by the coffee counter.

Having him around so much was actually both making your day better and much, much worse. On the one hand, that meant that since you were paired up with coworkers you didn’t get along with, you had a fantastic company that literally made the nights go by so fast as you and he became closer and closer friends. But, on the other hand, it also made your once attraction to him, having been solely based on physical looks to bleed over to personal traits, and you wanted to cry with every poor attempt of flirting that flew over his head.

However, you did get to learn that 1. he did, in fact, dye his hair red because you had the privilege of seeing his black roots. And that 2. despite his phone being filled with the craziest metal and rock songs, he really only listened to a playlist buried in his phone that was filled with soft acoustic guitar and sweet bubblegum pop songs. It was great.

But it was no time to think about your tall, red-headed crush. You had much more pressing issues with the large coffee crowd in front of you. It was rush hour, and since you were scheduled for tonight's shift, they asked if you wanted more hours for today since they were training someone new.

Obviously, you had agreed.

You had forgotten the horrors of rush that included sleep-deprived, caffeine-infused insanity of students coupled with the ever-demanding adults with jobs that they very much needed to return too. It was always horrific.

But you for sure never expected to see your crush before you.

“Kiri!” you smiled, the smile on your face was one of pure exhaustion and joy of seeing your friend crush. Your gaze quickly dropped away from him, your eyes returning to the paper cups you held, writing in their orders and name as quickly as you could. “How can I help you?”

Kirishima visibly gulped, and you froze a bit before setting down the large order on the counter for your coworkers to eventually get to. You knew by the pile-up on orders you would be switched out with the new hire after Kirishima and the person behind him.

“I, uh, I need to ask you something!” Kirishima spoke sharply, his arms stiff at his side. His usual kind and gentle smile on his face is mechanic and dull. He was… he was sweating? Pity filled your stomach; maybe he had done terribly on a midterm.

“Do you need a new coffee rec?” you immediately ask your mind on the set menu behind you, trying to come up with a coffee just sweet enough for the charming man in front of you. “You haven’t had a drink in a while, I don’t remember what you had last, though.”

“No, not that! I have a… well, I have a confession!” Kirishima tries again, his body somehow becoming even stiffer as he nods his head in growing speeds. “Yup! A confession!”

“Would ya hurry it up, kid! Some of us got work to get to!” came a crabby voice from behind Kirishima, and you winced, looking past your crush to the eldering man who looked like he was eating and shitting stress every day for the past three years.

“Sir, please calm down, it won’t take too long,” you frowned, not at all happy with the sheer impatience of the customer. You turned back to Kirishima, an apologetic look on your face. “But a confession? Okay, well, actually… I have one for you as well!” Maybe you could get yourself to confess you liked him?

But the old man’s interruption seemed to have calmed Kirishima down significantly, who snapped out of his haze.

“Sorry, sorry!” he apologized to the man behind him, bowing deeply for his troubles before facing you again and laughed. The palm of his hand hit his forehead as he groaned lowly. “Sorry, this is so unmanly of me, y/l/n! I mean, I shouldn’t even be doing this because you’re working, but I finally… I just…”

He trailed off, and you found it impossible to follow his train of thought, something you weren’t too bad at doing.

“Just what?”

It was with that the world seemed to still.

The noise of the busy coffee shop, the hustling of your coworkers, the chattering of the studying students, and business calls going mute as you stared up into Kirishima’s red, comprehensive, honest eyes.

“Well, it’s just that I, um, I--”

“Listen, kid,” the man behind Kirishima snapped at him. “I have twelve minutes to gather my drink and make it back to my meeting with my executive board. And you’re holding up the damn fucking line! Make up your mind on what coffee you want, because you’ve been in this line with me for almost ten minutes, order it and pay! Let’s get moving!”

“Sir!” you gasped, horrendously mortified a customer was acting like that! “That’s incredibly rude! He hasn’t even been here for a minute!”

“It’s actually been three!” he sneered.

You opened your mouth to retaliate, not at all positive if it had been three minutes because by god did you get lost in Kirishima’s eyes.

“No!” Kirishima interrupted you before you could begin, and you looked up at Kirishima, who looked like a kicked puppy, and that sent your heart into a whole series of palpitations you didn’t know would happen with him. “It’s fine, sorry, I got worked up… um… one of my best bros likes his coffee black, and well, I like it now too. A regular black coffee, to go…”

You didn’t even get a chance to say anything, Kirishima slipping the exact amount of money for the drink before disappearing into the crowd.

Your sight narrowed when it befell onto the old man who looked proud of himself, “Finally! Now, let me see what you guys have! I don’t know what I want!”

F O U R

Kirishima was late.

So late, so very, very late.

He checked his phone for the time yet again, somehow praying that in the last time he had checked his phone (which had been three seconds ago), the time hadn’t shot forward by ten minutes, and by the spirit of god had maybe, possibly rewound by ten minutes. He only hoped that he wouldn’t show up too late today; he actually needed something with caffeine to keep him awake today.

But he saw the coffee shop straight ahead, the small white light by the front door still buzzing and bright with the illuminated: OPEN! sign. Kirishima barreled through the front door with now practiced and known strength, his forehead sweating profusely, and his heart hammering in his throat.

“I’m… here!” he panted, his eyes finding yours as you were cleaning up the counter with a disinfecting liquid and cloth.

He had seen you yesterday, but still, seeing you at the counter, your gaze on what you were doing was like an arrow to his lungs. He looked at you in his personal slowed downtime, the way that the halo of frizzy, curly, flyaways from your hair gleamed softly with the backlight, the warmth of your skin, the gentle flutter of your eyelashes as you looked up, and he was met with the depth pool of your warm eyes.

Beautiful.

His eyes fell onto your lips, and noticed they were moving ever so slightly, and he realized that he couldn’t hear what you were saying.

All the tables had been wiped down, the chairs by the table turned upside down, laying on the tabletops. The floor still streaked with what was definitely a mop, and guilt bubbled in his stomach. You were closing up, and by the looks of it, were nearly done as well.

Kirishima paused, he was here one minute before closing, and he froze. The heavy wooden door closing behind him with an awkwardly loud thud that only seemed to thunder in his ears as the world finally caught up.

“―anything?”

Kirishima blinked, his cheeks exploding with heat.

“What?”

He hadn’t heard you utter a single word.

He watched the way your lips pulled into an endearing, yet slightly exasperated smile, your eyes rolling.

“Did you want anything?” you repeated, hands placed on your hips in a taunting, near commanding way. “Coffee’s still on the pot, so if you want anything, let me know!”

“Did you already clean up?” Kirishima asks, his eyes falling to the floor to find the different wet streaks on the tile and avoid them if his shoe was dirty. He stops when he sees the cleaned and cleared coffee counter, and guilt floods him. “It looks like you’re mostly cleaned up; I don’t want you to get things dirty again, it’s okay.”

“It’ll take me five minutes tops to clean back up!” you retort, hands already moving to grab a to-go cup for him to have.

“No, no!” Kirishima exclaims, moving back towards the door as fast as he could. He didn’t want to cause you more work, and if anything, he would just wait for you to leave the shop, and he would simply walk you back to your apartment! That seemed like the more manly thing to do, right? “It’s okay! I’m okay! I’ll live without a cup!”

You snorted, slamming the cup onto the counter with definitive intentions, “Don’t be ridiculous, coffee addict!” you pointed to the spot before the cash register, pen in hand as you readied to write down his order. “Come. Don’t be silly! Can you turn off the open sign for me, though! What do you want?”

“I feel bad,” Kirishima frowns, turning off the neon light per request before turning back towards you. His hands stuffed into his pockets. “You don’t have to do this.”

“No, I don’t have to,” you say with a grin and a roll of your eyes. “But since I’m the reason your addiction is a thing, I’m more than happy to deal with the consequences, Kiri.”

There’s a beat, and Kirishima walks to the counter, his lower lip jutted out in a small pout, but the energetic smile painted on your lips melts his pout into a smile immediately.

“What do you suggest?”

“Café de Olla.”

His face scrunches at the so, very not Japanese words that come from your mouth.

“Cafe de la what?”

He watches your smile brighten by a tenfold, enjoying the way your eyes easily glitter with your mirth as you turn away from him.

“Café de Olla,” you repeat again, and he can only assume it’s Spanish. “It’s a Mexican coffee, that one of the transfer students we hired from Mexico introduced us to!” Kirishima watched as you went to a small pot of coffee, put a cleaned ladle in, and eventually poured in a slightly steaming cup of dark coffee. “I can’t remember the ingredients, but the main one is cinnamon! I know you like cinnamon, and since you’re a big boy black coffee drinker now, I think you’ll like it!”

Kirishima missed the teasing look on your face when you placed the truly dark coffee in front of him.

“Um,” Kirishima nervously laughed, staring at the cup of dark liquid before him. He hated black coffee. “Are you… are you gonna put any sugar or milk in it?”

“Nope! Drink up, handsome!”

Kirishima whimpered at both the nickname you had been calling him as of late and the coffee before him. Eventually, he picked up the warm cup, not at all deceived by the warm, sweet aroma of the cup of coffee in his hand ― the black coffee had smelled sweet too. Not one to back down, especially as you were in the process of cleaning up for the day, he took a hesitant, gentle sip of the coffee and froze.

Despite the bitter, dark persona the steaming cup gave, the liquid was sweet.

Very sweet.

It was light in its spice, warming him gently, and giving him a world of flavors he hadn’t been aware of. He drank the rest of it eagerly.

“Good, right?!” you exclaimed excitedly, having caught onto what Kirishima already knew to be his unmistakable likeness. “I wasn’t too sure of it at first either! I mean, I don’t really dabble with straight black coffee, but this just hits differently!”

Kirishima placed his sample down, the back of his hand rubbing his wet lips, his smile wide and excited. He couldn’t believe he actually liked a cup of coffee! “That was SO good, fuck! I didn’t think I was going to like that! Can I have a cup of this?”

He watched as you nodded your head excitedly, more stray pieces of hair falling out of place, framing your face even more as you grabbed the cup and made due to filling it up. Kirishima watched you the entire time you filled his cup up, his fingers blindly holding his bills of cash to give to you.

‘I’m going to do it,’ he thought as you placed a lid on the cup.

‘You got this!’ he encouraged himself as you walked over, handing off the warm cup into his hands. He softly smiled at the feeling of your warm, soft fingers brushing familiarly against his own.

‘DO IT!’

“Y-Y/l/n―”

“Babycakes, are you done out here?!” a voice hollered, and Kirishima stilled when a face emerged from the back. “I’m exhausted and ready to go!”

He watched as a tall girl with green eyes and brown hair emerged from the back room, her arms stretched precariously over her head, stepped into the bar. And the world slowed when her arms quickly enveloped you.

It was then that he remembered what you had said yesterday. The way that your face morphed from apologetic to bashful, the fluster in your eyes, and the way you bit your lip nervously as you said you had something to confess to him… was she… your confession?

“Ami!” you spluttered, and Kirishima watched the way the girl who was draped over your body, much taller than you were, smile at you endearingly as you, in your fluster, failed to get her off. “Kirishima ― a customer is here!”

The word customer echoed like a bell in the world's deepest cave in Kirishima’s ear.

He was just…

He was just a customer, after all.

His smile faded from a genuine one to a phony one as he watched your coworker/girlfriend fight you on showing affection, and eventually, you won.

“S-Sorry about that!” you stammered, trying to fix your outfit, your hair chaotically was undone. His throat nearly sealed off when your pristine eyes locked back up his; he felt light under your gaze, but oh, so, cold. “You were saying?”

“Just… um, thank you!” Kirishima mustered a feeble laugh, his hand grabbing the coffee in his hand, and without so much as a goodbye, he left the coffee shop. Your echoing salutation doing nothing but making him nauseous as heartbreak overtook him.

F I V E

The last time you had seen Kirishima, you served him the café de olla during that night, which was weeks ago.

By weeks you meant nearly two months; finals season had just finished.

Despite your obvious disappointment in not seeing the one person you were enamored with, you reasoned with yourself with every disappointing redhead who would enter the coffeeshop that you had never asked for his phone number, and he was an engineering student. He had to be busy.

Even if he wasn’t busy, you tried to reason, your brow set in a knit position as you washed the ceramic cups in the sink, he had every reason to never show back up again. He wasn’t your boyfriend or anything…

Thankfully, you heard the all too familiar sound of the front door being opened, and now with new company policy, you called out in greetings.

“Welcome!”

You quickly patted your hands dry on your apron, knowing that your coworker was on break at the moment, and turned to the entrance of the shop, and froze.

It was an all too familiar head of bright red spikes.

“Kiri!” you exclaimed happily, rushing over to the register with a bright, wide smile as you restrained yourself from flinging over the counter and hugging him tightly. Of course, that would have been both unprofessional and probably pushing the boundaries of your friendship/one-sided affections. “It’s been so long, how are you?!”

Kirishima stood on the other side of the counter, his hands shoved into his blue hoodie pocket, his eyes for the first time ever almost empty, the smile you knew he wore almost religiously, nowhere to be seen. In lieu of the smile, were lips pressed into a stout line, his face puckered just slightly enough as if he had smelled something sour moments before.

What was going on?

“You okay?” you ask, your once outstretched arms retracting into yourself, seeing that he was not reciprocating your movements. Your head tilted. “Did something happen?”

“Yeah, Ei,” came a new voice. “Is something wrong?”

You almost startled when a girl with curly, pink hair seemed to appear from behind Kirishima. She had eyes of liquid gold, and a teasing smile on her face as she nudged Kirishima. “What’s going on?”

Your stomach flips in unwelcomed jealousy, your teeth biting the inside of your cheek in hopes that the girl wouldn’t catch on.

When the seconds felt like minutes of silence, the girl merely sighed, her attention focusing onto you with a look of slight mischief.

“Please excuse my friend―” you relax with the f word― “we’ve been friends since grade school, and he’s never been like that! Maybe he caught a bug during breakfast?”

“Mina…” Kirishima spoke softly, not quite a warning, not quite a whine.

“You must be the famous ‘y/l/n,’ I’ve heard so much about you!” the girl ― Mina ― exclaimed excitedly, her hands grabbing yours while nodding excitedly. “When I heard that Ei hadn’t gone for coffee in so long, I obviously had to force him to come! That and he totally made one of our friends throw away my coffee, and I need the coffee in my bloodstream to survive my dumb classes!”

The one-sided tension between you and Mina expelled quickly.

“Kiri hasn’t been here in a while, but I’m sure he’s got his reasons,” you defend your crush, your smile soft as you traded your locked gaze on Mina to look at Kirishima, who weakly, barely, horribly returned the smile. “But I can definitely help with the coffee! What can I get for you?”

“Good question…” Mina sighed, her eyes studying the menu with practiced skill.

Eventually, Mina ordered a chai tea latte with an oat milk substitution, a pump of caramel, and two shots of espresso. She squealed with delight when you placed her order in front of her, and maybe had you not been excited to get Kiri’s answer, you would have noticed the way his friend strategically walked towards the door to give you two your space.

“So, how can I help ya, handsome?” you ask, your smile back to full power, although a bit shy, unaffected by the brick wall of a man before you. “We’re out of the café de olla right now, but if you don’t mind waiting fifteen minutes, I can make you a fresh batch!”

That’s a lie, the pot of Mexican coffee is still completely filled, ready for Kirishima should he want it. But you were selfish; you were trying to get him to stay longer.

“Nah, that’s okay,” Kirishima shakes his head. “I don’t wanna bug ya. I’ll just take a caramel latte, no worries.”

Disappointment rams through you, but you try your best at hiding it.

“Oh, okay! I’ll get that started for you!” you try to chirp, grabbing a to-go cup and beginning the relatively short task. “How’ve you been?” you ask, trying to initiate old conversations.

“Good.”

“Oh, that’s good to hear! How were your finals? Mine was terrible! I had a professor who forgot what time section we were, so not only were we given only thirty minutes to finish the exam, but there was no compensation for his mistake!”

“Wow… that sucks. Mine were fine.”

“Nothing crazy happened?”

“No.”

“Um, okay… well, did you see that the animated Crimson Riot movie is out?!” you ask, pathetically hopeful that the biggest conversation card you held right now would give you something better than these simple, halfhearted responses. The movie had had no promos, just a message from the local theaters that it had been made and to come and watch it.

“Yup.”

…

“Oh, that’s cool! I just found out this morning when my dad called me! I’m not near home, so I was wondering if maybe you wanted to come and watch it with me?”

You froze. Was that a date you had asked him out on? It was, wasn’t it?! Your face exploded with heat, your fingers trembling as you poured the finished hot coffee into the cup.

“...I’d rather not.”

Oh.

“T-That’s okay! I’m sure I can find a friend or something to go watch it with me… or I’ll just wait until a holiday to see it with my dad… if it’s still out.”

“Hopefully, it’s still out by then,” Kirishima muttered, his face refusing to look at you, his eyes buried into his wallet as he handed you the change for his drink. “Thanks.” he rushed, grabbing his cup and turning on his heel.

“What’s wrong with you?” you manage to ask before you can keep your mouth shut, but you can’t help it. Your chest aches with his dismissal, with every sentence he spoke that horribly and effectively shut you down before you even had a chance. In the end, it seemed that your hurt feelings won out your need to be polite. “Did something happen? A-Are you okay? Did I do something?”

Kirishima freezes in his path.

“No, nothing happened.”

That was not the answer you were hoping to get.

“Then why are you acting like this?” you ask, your voice bordering a desperate plea for an answer.

For the past many weeks, you had never once thought that he had been avoiding you, ignoring you. You thought that maybe he had just been busy with his personal life, too busy with school and work to spare his free time entertaining you at work. But even if you were disillusioned with your admiration and feelings for him, you knew the two of you were friends. You had to have been friends!

Silence.

“What’s going on?” you ask again, your voice feeling small and weak.

“Nothing,” Kirishima reiterates, his head turning so you both looked at each other through the corner of his eyes. “Nothing happened, I just… couldn’t show up.”

“Why?”

“I don’t like being around you, not anymore.”

Those words wash over you like freezing water; they’re harsh, cruel, and mean. His face twisting up as if he was some snarling, upset animal. He didn’t want to be here, his face screamed, he felt like some cornered, caged animal.

Muted anger and heartache wash over you, your head nodding numbly as you laugh humorlessly. You had been the problem.

“Sorry for… for making you feel obligated in showing up,” you whisper, your soul feeling as though it was leaving your body, your face twisted in the horribleness in his words.

I don’t like being around you, not anymore.

He wasn’t even apologizing… he’d meant it… didn’t he?

Kirishima moves to walk away, his eyes glazed over similarly to your own, but you’re not done. Not quite yet.

“You know,” you manage to speak out, your voice starting off paltrily, an almost chuckle tickling the back of your throat, humming deeply in your chest. He stops. “This entire time, you always boasted about being ‘manly’… about being chivalrous and a decent human being. For the most part, I’ve always agreed and thought that you were manly, chivalrous, and a more than decent human being but now… I can’t believe you. You really came all this way after two months of avoiding me to tell me that you would never be showing up again? That the reason for you not returning was because you’re sick of me?”

He’s silent for a bit, and it's then you notice the tears falling down your face, “Thought it was manlier to tell you I wasn’t coming back then to stop showing up without a reason.”

“You already did that!” you snapped, suddenly piercing, thundering anger running through every cell of your body, raising the hair on your body. “You’re being a complete fucking dick now, Kirishima! For what? At least before I thought it was because you’re busy, but no, you just had to tell me it was because of me! Oh my god?! To think I have a crush on you?! That I was ready to confess to you the next fucking time we had a moment together?!”

You felt hysterical, his reasoning jumbling and twisting in your mind, not at all feeling coherent, and your blazing feelings that were now biting you in the ass… you wanted to make him feel guilt most of all. With tears falling bitterly, angrily down your face, you stared at Kirishima. He was finally facing you, looking you dead on with emotion-filled eyes and a gaping fish mouth ― opening and closing pathetically.

“Get out,” you spoke with a serenity you were not quite feeling, your finger thrust toward the front door.

“Y-Y/l/n―”

“I don’t want to hear it,” you laugh bitterly, no longer wanting to have whatever it is that he wanted to say.

He was just a customer, not a friend, only a customer.

You didn’t need to be his friend anymore.

“Get. Out. Now.”

You didn’t wait for him to leave, turning on your heel, you walked to the backroom, not daring to return to the front until he left.

You’d forgotten how much rejection hurt.

O N E

Whoever said heartbreak was healed with a wild night out, a pint of ice cream and crying had clearly been built differently from you.

One wild night out with your friends, two pints of ice cream, and thirty crying sessions later, you were still sulking as you simply existed. You weren’t even sure why you were overreacting either?! He had been a crush, not a boyfriend!

Lord save you for whenever an actual reciprocated lover dumped you, you were probably never going to recover. Still, you couldn’t let it affect you all that much; you were still going about your day as you usually would, just… sulking.

“You’re a blessing in my life,” your coworker sighed as she came out from the back, her hands moving to release her hair from her bun, her purse slung against her chest as she continued to thank you. “I promise you the next time we work together, I’ll clean up on my own!”

You shake your head, waving her off as you dried some of the dishes lying about.

“We aren’t busy, and there’s no one here, I’ll clean up just fine!” you laugh, glancing over your shoulder to look at her. “Just buy me a pastry tomorrow or something. I’ve closed on my own many times, I’ll be fine! There's no coffee demand this late at night anyway!”

“Fine! I won’t forget! But don’t complain if there’s more than one pastry!”

“Oh my god, LEAVE!” you yell, blindly pointing at the door for her to leave, and you hear her resounding laughter as she finally does go.

“Oops, sorry, welcome and excuse me!” you hear her exclaim as she steps out, and you turn around, already knowing that it’s a customer.

Taking your coworkers' welcome as the company greeting, you merely shouted out that you’d be right with them as you finished washing ― you were almost done with them anyways. Finally done, you turned around, eyes on your thighs as you dried your hands on your apron.

“Alright, how can I help…” you froze when you caught sight of familiar, warm red eyes. “...you.”

Kirishima.

He looked at you with blushing, puffed cheeks, his eyes full of mixing, swirling emotions that you probably couldn’t handle to hear (especially if he had come to yell at you). You don’t know what to do, merely looking at him before sighing.

“The usual?” you ask, moving to get things as smoothly and effortlessly as you could (you had been yelled at for your emotional outburst by your boss).

“Uh, actually, no. I’m okay,” Kirishima spoke up as soon as you pulled out a paper cup, and you stopped, looking at him with your best attempt at dull, emotionless eyes.

“What can I get for you then?” you try again, hating the way that you want to smile at him, to pretend that nothing happened two weeks ago; that this was his first time back.

“I have to confess something,” Kirishima states, his fingers fisting into his ridiculous mismatched athleisure clothing. “I actually really, really, really hate coffee…”

You blinked.

You hadn’t expected that confession.

“Um, okay? Well, then can I make you some―”

“I’m not quite done, sorry,” Kirishima apologized, his hand rubbing the back of his neck in his embarrassment. “I hate coffee, and I don’t like being dishonest, but really, I feel like I’ve been lying to you this entire time.”

“...what?”

“I told you at some point that I had come into this shop by coincidence, but that’s not true! I’ve been passing by for months before stepping foot into here! I had always seen you working through the front window, and you just… you captivated me from that very moment, but I’ve been too weak, nervous, and totally unmanly and could never build up the courage to come in! It took me a year to build up the courage to come in ― which is why I nearly broke the front door that first day! I was so nervous about messing up; I just overexerted my strength!”

Kirishima laughed, his hands raking through his spiked hair, and you could only stare at him as the gelled hair began to fall under his ministrations.

“See, the truth is, I’ve liked you for a long time. Like a long time. And then, when I came in, and we became friends, I only fell for you even more, and I’ve been trying to work up the courage to confess to you! But every time I tried, something bad happened! Like the grouchy old man in the line, how you got sick and couldn’t work! But a true man doesn’t give up until it’s over… and I thought that girl who was hugging you and kissing your cheek that one day was your girlfriend, so I gave up! But the thing is, I was a coward, so fucking unmanly that I couldn’t be around you without you being mine! And so I left because it hurt… but it hurt not being around you, so Mina brought me here! But then you said… you said you liked me back, and unless you’re in a polyamorous relationship, there’s no way for you to have said feelings and confess them to me like that!”

He stopped, his breath frantic, panting, and you could only look up with him with a mirrored breathing pattern despite your quietness.

“I’m here because I’m tired of being weak and unmanly. I’m here because I have deep feelings for you, and I want to ask you out!”

You’re silent for a bit, the temerity of his words loud and clear in your ears, ringing with the need to be addressed. For the first time since he had walked out of your life for the first time, a warmth bubbled in your chest.

“You know,” you whisper, your eyes locked with his, the tears in your eyes freely showing. “This coffee shop does, in fact, have tea?”

“Wha―?”

He doesn’t have the chance to finish the curious ask, your hands grabbing his shirt and bringing him close, his nose brushing against yours but your lips hovering below his own.

“Can I kiss you?” you whisper, your eyes falling to his lips for a second before coming back to his eyes that shone brightly, vividly, excitedly.

“Please?”

Your lips found themselves pressed against his, and the two of you stood there, leaning against the counter by the cash register. Lips passionately, smoothly, deeply pressing against one another as electricity traveled slowly down your spine as his hands pressed against your ribcage. When you pulled away, his eyes fluttered open after yours, and he had the brightest, dumbest smile on his face.

“Would you like to go see the Crimson Riot movie with me?”

#kirishima x reader #kirishima eijiro x reader #bnha #bnha x reader #mha

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dinosaurtsukki · 3 years

Text

[ too scared to say ]

pairing: tsukishima kei x f!reader

word count: 1.6k words

contains: slight angst, tsukishima with insecure!s/o cause he’s usually the insecure one in fics, another wedding-themed fic

a/n: had this idea for a while and i’m glad i’ve finally written it. it’s usually tsukki’s who’s insecure and guarded in xreader fics so i wanted to try it out with the reader being insecure this time

i love you.

you're caught off-guard when you hear the words from tsukishima's mouth. you never thought you'd ever hear him actually say them. as much you wished for it to happen, especially after you spent three years of high school doodling his name in the margins of your notebook, it feels too good to be true.

tsukishima looks sincere about it though. you're both seated on the couch in your apartment and even though it's pouring outside and the electricity had died, you can still make out his face in the dim lighting. you can tell it took him a great deal of effort to say that: his eyes are focused on the cushion on his lap as he picks at a stray thread, the sound of his breathing is more audible now as he inhales deeply.

this is the time where you say it back but the words catch themselves in your throat. after all, weren't you the one who got yourself into trouble for being too naive all the time? after leaving high school and all hopes of tsukishima ever liking you back behind, you tried your hand at relationships. you thought every single one of them would be your last, only to find that you had deluded yourself yet again.

meeting tsukishima again, years after high school, felt like a weird universal coincidence that you didn't know if you should thank for yet. even more so when he admitted to his feelings for you back then.

"so, what do we do about it now?" you asked.

"i'd... like to give this a shot," tsukishima said, rubbing the back of his head. you were reluctant, but agreed anyway.

you've said 'i love you' before, more than a few times. and yet, you couldn't say it now.

"aren't you... jumping to conclusions a bit?" you asked, nervously letting out a laugh.

"what do you mean?" tsukishima frowns slightly.

"just, saying that you might not be sure about that yet so... slow down a bit before saying things like that," you shrugged.

"what? you think i don't know my own feelings?" tsukishima scoffs. there's a look of hurt on his face and you can't exactly blame him for it.

"i'm sorry, tsukki," you apologize, resting your hand in the middle of the couch between you except he doesn't reach for it.

"it's fine," he shakes his head, focusing now on the wall in front of him. "i know you're not really the person you once were and, i don't mind that at all cause neither am i. sometimes, it really feels like you have a wall up."

you find yourself flinching slightly at that last part. maybe this is the part when things go south, like they always do. except, you feel sad that it had to happen with tsukishima too.

but he doesn't act like how you expect him to. "if you need time, it's fine with me," is all he says. tsukishima doesn't sound exasperated, nor frustrated at all. but he does stand up and head for the door.

'you can stay,' you think, 'please stay.'

but all you can bring yourself to say is: "take an umbrella. it's pouring outside."

...

that was about a week ago and tsukishima has barely heard from you then. he didn't know what else to do aside from give you space, and also silently regret things. maybe he was too hasty in saying that he loved you.

but, that was what he truly felt, and it wasn't easy for him to say but he did it anyway. 'you're not always losing anything when you open yourself up to someone,' akiteru had told him. and now, tsukishima was riding a bus on the way to his older brother's wedding.

he had just hung his tux on the curtain rod above the window and settled into his seat though when he caught a familiar flash of blue. of course, tsukishima would recognize your favorite dress and sat up in his seat to see you walking down the center aisle. he watched as you looked around for a seat before landing on the last empty one in the bus, which happened to be right next to tsukishima's.

"hey."

"hey," tsukishima swallowed as you approached.

"is this seat taken?" you asked.

"no, go ahead," tsukishima shook his head, his eyes distracted by the familiar dry-cleaners bag that you held in your hands. "let me help you with that," he offered, taking the hanger from your hands and hanging it up beside his tux.

“saeko nee-san invited me to the wedding,” you explained as soon as you sat down beside tsukishima. “congratulations to your brother, by the way.”

“thanks. we all, kind of saw it coming,” tsukishima chuckled. now that you were here, he realized just how much he missed you.

“i’m sorry for not calling or anything, by the way,” you apologized. “i can’t say that this is all new to me but, it’s just... well... i’ve been in other relationships before and sometimes, it feels like things repeat themselves too much.”

tsukishima nodded, remembering the night when you two met again after so many years. he was working the counter at the bar and noticed you sitting there, obviously dressed up for a date, obviously stood up in that said date too. you were very much different from the young girl who used to invite him and yamaguchi to watch the latest romance movie theaters, the one who sang songs at the top of your lungs in your bedroom, loud enough for those downstairs to here. but that didn’t mean he liked you any less.

“hey,” he laid a hand on top of yours. “why don’t we just enjoy today? you still love going to weddings, right?”

you smiled gratefully and chuckled. “yeah, that hasn’t changed.”

...

you fully expected to run into tsukishima at his own brother’s wedding and had thought twice about going before talking sense into yourself. and now, you were glad to have gone.

the wedding was absolutely charming and more than a few of your old high school friends came. you and tsukishima were seated with yamaguchi and yachi at the same table and chatted about old times and what the volleyball duo was up to. saeko looked stunning in her dress and akiteru cried more than a few times during the ceremony. tsukishima looked proud of his brother, and more than a little tired of his new brother-in-law.

“they look really good together,” you sighed, smiling at akiteru and saeko who were breakdancing in the middle of the dance floor, the latter doing much better than the former.

“yeah,” tsukishima chuckled. “they barely met each other in high school but i could tell nii-chan was star-struck when they met at the shiratorizawa match.”

“and now look at them,” you giggled. “kind of the opposite of us, in a way.”

“yeah, because you were definitely head over heels for me,” tsukishima snickered. you smacked his arm with the back of your hand.

“and you were too dense to realize it,” you countered.

“not exactly. just thought it was too good to be true,” tsukishima smiled wryly.

“we should have been accidentally locked into a room together to force us to admit our feelings.”

“you and your romance movie cliches.”

you chuckled at that. “just saying. would have made things way easier for everyone.” you sighed again and remembered the confession letter you had penned to tsukishima before deciding to stash it away in your desk. then, you turned to tsukishima who was watching his brother and sister-in-law dance.

maybe you were going to enjoy yourself tonight.

“hey, tsukishima?”

“yeah?”

“wanna dance with me?”

...

with the dancing and frequent visits to the wine bar, you ended up enjoying the wedding immensely. but as much as you didn’t want to, it was finally time to go home. you and tsukishima didn’t even bother changing out of your formal clothes before catching the last bus back home. your hair had escaped from its pins and you were definite that there was mascara smudged under your eye. tsukishima’s tie hung loosely around his neck and he had already unbuttoned the upper part of his shirt.

all of the dancing tired him out way more than you, but it was a pleasant surprise for him to comply with your request. you also had the wine to thank for tsukishima deciding to break dance for about a minute when his older brother asked him to.

as soon as he was seated, tsukishima was out like a light with his head leaned back against the seat and his mouth slightly hanging open. looking at him, you realized that he was someone you didn’t want to let go. dating him was scarier because of that and you didn’t want tsukishima to be one of those people you were eventually going to say goodbye to.

but how could he be that person if you don’t ask him to stay in the first place?

once again, you remembered the confession letter that you had wrote to him all those years ago. there was a tremble in your hand when you wrote down the last line of that letter, so much that it screwed up the writing and you decided not to send the letter anyway. you glanced at tsukishima’s misty reflection in the fogged up glass of the bus before using your finger to write down that line.

i love you

the words looked like they were suspended in the air and fragile enough to be blown away by the wind. with a swipe of your hand, you could easily erase the message.

and that’s when tsukishima wakes up.

his sleepy eyes travel from you to the message written on the window and his eyes widen when he realizes what you’ve written down. with a smile, he leans over, and writes a word right under your message.

i love you too

▸ 🎕 ┈┈┈┈ 🎕 ┈┈┈┈ 🎕 ┈┈┈┈ 🎕 ┈┈┈┈ 🎕 ◂

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#haikyuu!!#hq x reader #tsukishima kei #tsukishima kei x reader #tsukishima x reader #tsukishima #haikyuu!! angst #hq!! angst #haikyuu!! fluff #hq!! fluff #haikyuu!! drabble #hq!! drabble #haikyuu!! one-shot #hq!! one-shot #haikyuu!! writing #hq!! writing

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incorrectbandofbrothersquotes · 3 years

Text

You Better, You Better, You Bet - Chapter 9

As Long as You’re Mine

Ron Speirs x Juliet Fletcher

Summary: Juliet Fletcher reaches a breaking point in her life. When she is at her absolute lowest, she meets Ron Speirs, and something happens between them that neither of them will ever forget.

Word Count: 4.1K

Tag List: @vintagelavenderskies @how-are-those-nuts-sarge @iilovemusic12us @hesbuckcompton-baby @tvserie-s-world @whovian45810 @50svibes @cagzzz107 @evelynshelby @piano-isnt-my-forte If you’d like to be added, let me know!

A/N: Hope you guys enjoy this update!

Warning(s): None :)

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8

AO3 link

Chapter 9 let’s go!!!

“Okay, how does this sound?” Juliet asked Ron, who sat on her bed as she put together her story of the trial. He was careful not to recline, lest he disturb her pages of notes carefully organized atop the quilt. “Meredith Fisher confessed to the murder of six-year-old Peggy Lee in front of the courtroom before her trial began. Mrs. Fisher was arrested and charged with the murder in September of last year. Her lawyer, Mr. Harvey Cooper, originally planned to plead not guilty, but in a shocking turn of events, Mrs. Fisher herself admitted to the jury she killed Peggy Lee before even opening arguments could be made.”

“I’d read that,” Ron replied.

Juliet huffed and looked around her room at the Blue Boar. Papers littered the floor, pens were nowhere to be found, and her typewriter was mocking her. Now that the trial was finished - with such a dramatic twist - she was hard at work, trying to ensure she reported it just right. An impossible task, it felt like.

“Okay, but would you read it because I’m your girlfriend or because of the writing?” she asked.

“The writing,” he told her. “It’s simple, it explains everything.”

“It feels a bit long for the lead,” she said. “Perhaps I should put the bit about her arrest in the nut graph.”

“That does feel more like background information,” he agreed.

She pulled a pencil from behind her ear, scratched out the sentence, and began again. “So, it’d go like this - Meredith Fisher confessed to the murder of six-year-old Peggy Lee in front of the courtroom before her trial began. Her lawyer - I’m gonna take out his name and have that later - so, Her lawyer originally planned to plead not guilty, but in a shocking turn of events, Mrs. Fisher admitted to the jury she killed Peggy Lee before even opening arguments could be made. Then I’ll go into when she was arrested, the details of the murder, then the evidence the prosecution had prepared, and finish with her sentencing date. How’s that?”

“I think it’s perfect,” he said.

She chewed her lip. “Should I use the word shocking? I don’t want to tell the readers how to feel.”

“When she confessed, what was the first thing you heard?” he asked.

“Gasps,” she answered.

“There’s your shock,” he said.

Juliet had to concede that point. Ron almost didn’t believe her when she told him the story. The judge had barely gotten the words “How do you plead?” out before Meredith let out a wail like wounded animal and confessed to the whole gruesome thing. She sobbed that she was sorry, but she knew she had to be punished. She wasn’t safe. And truthfully, Juliet felt bad for her. It was truly one of the most pitiful things she’d ever witnessed.

But the one thing Juliet could never forget, the image that would stick with her for all her days, was the look on Peggy Lee’s parents’ faces. The Lees watched, dignified, proud, yet misty eyed as the person who killed their daughter begged for mercy. Their grief was profoundly felt, despite their stately manner. They said nothing. They did nothing. And they spoke to no one upon their exit from the courtroom.

“Jules?”

Ron’s voice brought her back to the present, his hand on her shoulder making her turn to look at him.

“Sorry,” she said, shaking her head. “Just...it’s so unfair. If anyone had a right to be screaming and crying it was the parents.”

“They must be very English,” he said.

“Oh, they were proper English,” she agreed. “Stiff upper lips and all. The mother did at one point hide her face in the father’s arm, but other than that, they were stoic.”

“Thinking about including that in your story?” he wondered.

“God, no,” she replied. “I’ll mention that they were there and offered no comments, but this isn’t that kind of article.”

“Just the facts, huh?”

“As usual.”

“Juliet.”

“Yeah?”

“The article’s gonna be great,” he said.

“How can you be so sure?” she asked.

“Because you care this much,” he said. He accentuated the point with a kiss to the top of her head. “I’ve got a staff meeting. Are you alright here?”

She nodded. “Yeah, I’m fine. Thanks for being so patient with me.”

He kissed her again. “I’ll see you tonight.”

“See you later, Ron,” she returned.

With that, he left. Juliet started trying to condense the lead again, still feeling like it was too long. There had to be a better summary. But it was a lot to try and fit into one sentence, so she resigned herself to making it more than one line. She hadn’t chosen a headline yet, either, but she usually liked to write the article first. That way she could pick out the singular most newsworthy part and headline with that. As she organized further, the phone rang.

“Hello?” she answered.

“Juliet, it’s Lottie.”

“Hey, Lottie, how are you?” Juliet asked.

“Fine, same as usual,” Lottie returned. “Otis just rang and told me about the trial. I hope you’re hard at work.”

“Absolutely,” Juliet assured her. “I’ve nearly got the lead down. I’ve just got to get the facts organized. I’m thinking of doing a follow up story about the shortcomings of Operation Pied Piper, since Cooper’s little tidbit did prove to be true.”

Sad as it was, Harvey Cooper was right. There was no process for vetting the families agreeing to take the children. The committee had been in such a hurry to evacuate, they had not even considered that some children could end up in more danger than they were at home in the cities. Juliet found the whole thing fascinating, and it could open up a conversation about war time protocol - be meticulous or swift?

“I think that’ll be fine,” Lottie said. “But have you gotten any war news? I know I wasn’t enthusiastic about it initially, but you’re the only reporter I’ve got with the Airborne.”

Juliet bit her lip. While the prospect of war news had originally driven her to accept the Peggy Lee story, she found herself conflicted about it now. Her relationship with Ron threw a wrench in it.

“I think it’s a conflict of interest for me to cover the Airborne,” she said.

She could practically hear Lottie’s eyes roll. “Oh, come on, Juliet, don’t be absurd.”

“It isn’t right, Lottie!” Juliet insisted. “I’m in an intimate relationship with one of the soldiers, there’s no freeing me from bias there.”

“You could use it to your advantage,” Lottie said. “Obviously, you can’t use him as a source, but couldn’t he lead you to the right person?”

“I can’t ask that of him,” Juliet said. “I don’t want him to get the wrong idea.”

“What wrong idea?”

It was something Juliet had already put a lot of thought into. As badly as she wanted to cover the war - and it did seem like things were ramping up even more in Aldbourne - she was hesitant. She had actually considered asking Ron for a source and then immediately hated herself for it. She would not use her relationship to get ahead in her job. She couldn’t. It just wasn’t right, simple as that.

“That I’m using him,” Juliet explained. “If I ask him to get me a source, he might worry that it’s the reason I entered the relationship, and that’s not the case.”

Lottie sighed. “So, you just want to give up on covering the war?”

“I didn’t say that,” Juliet returned. “I’d be happy to cover something else once I get back to London, but-”

“Forget it,” Lottie cut across her. “Just focus on the trial for now and then Pied Piper, if that’s what you want.”

“Lottie -”

“Good afternoon, Juliet,” Lottie said harshly, hanging up before Juliet could protest any further.

She sighed, hanging up as well, and sitting back in her chair. She had a feeling the conversation wasn’t quite over, but she’d hear more about it on her next trip home. For now, she wanted to focus on what happened at the trial. The sentencing would be in another few weeks, so she needed to get this done.

***

Ron was right of course. The article was published and the London Pursuit sold the most copies it had in years. It surprised Juliet a little, but perhaps people were tired of war news and what better than a dramatic murder trial for a change of pace? It was morbid, sure, but Juliet knew she’d handled it as well as she could.

Lottie called, absolutely elated by the circulation numbers. And honestly, Juliet was thrilled too. She found Ron later that day and leapt into his arms as a display of her unmitigated excitement. She’d done it, and done it well! It was cause for celebration. So they went to London for the weekend - staying with Nancy of course, since she would have had a fit at missing an opportunity to see Ron - and they went to a nice dinner, champagne and everything. Juliet could hardly believe her luck. Everything was going so perfectly.

And that night, as they lay together in the afterglow, she looked at his face and knew she loved him. The kind of love she read about in books and poetry. The kind that crooners sang about on the radio. She’d found it. It was scary enough to admit to herself, but she determined that she would - one day soon if the opportunity presented itself - admit it to him.

He caught her gazing at him.

“What is it?” he asked.

“Nothing,” she replied. “I’m just happy you’re mine.”

***

The sentencing hearing was not as interesting as the trial itself, but Juliet was relieved to report that Meredith Fisher was going to prison for life. There would be no chance for parole, either. So justice was served.

However, Juliet couldn’t help but notice the look on Mr. Lee’s face. Mrs. Lee had not come for the sentencing, so it was just father. When the judge announced Meredith’s fate, Mr. Lee only closed his eyes and let out a long breath. He nodded, put a hand over his heart, and inhaled again. A single tear rolled down his cheek. It made Juliet look away so that he could have that moment for himself. To take in whatever feelings came to him. To remember Peggy and take some solace in that her killer was going away.

“I thought I’d be happier,” Juliet told Ron as they prepared for bed that night back at the Blue Boar. “But it still just feels...rotten.”

“Nothing can bring the girl back,” he said matter-of-factly.

“I know,” she replied. “But I just....I suppose you’re right. What else could anyone have hoped for in this situation?”

“Right,” he agreed.

“I’m also grateful we didn’t have to hear that lawyer make that ridiculous argument in a courtroom,” she said. “I don’t think I could bear the looks on the parents’ faces at that.”

“That would have been awful,” he said.

“Even so, it feels rather anticlimactic,” she said. “Especially for the prosecution who spent months putting everything together.”

“They still got the result they wanted,” he pointed out. “So what does it matter?

She shrugged at that. She still felt unsatisfied, as if there was something more to be done. Even though logically, she knew there wasn’t. She would write an update for the paper, and that would really be the end of it. That was when it hit her. What was really upsetting her was that now that this was over, there was no more reason for her to be in Aldbourne. Especially now that she didn’t want to cover the Airborne. It meant that she would go home to London, in turn reducing her time with Ron significantly. And that was a dreadful thought.

***

“What do you mean you aren’t coming back to London?” Lottie cried through the phone. “What about the Pied Piper story?”

“I reckon it can wait,” Juliet said, entirely unconvincing, but she hoped Lottie was buying it. Her reasons for remaining in Aldbourne had nothing to do with her job and everything to do with the man she was in love with. “And maybe with some time, I can find my own sources on war news.”

Lottie remained silent for several minutes. “So, you’ve just changed your mind all of a sudden about covering the Airborne?”

“Not completely,” Juliet lied. “I...I’m just not sure I’m quite finished here. And what if there’s something else about the Peggy Lee story that comes up? I could -”

“Give it a rest, Juliet,” Lottie groaned. “I know you want to stay for your boyfriend.”

“That’s not -”

Lottie cut across her protests. “Please do not insult my intelligence by suggesting otherwise. You want to be near him.”

“You don’t sound quite as sympathetic as I hoped,” Juliet said, giving in.

“You have a life in London, Juliet!” Lottie reminded her harshly. “You have a job to do, your mother is here, and you want to put everything on hold for some man?”

“He’s not just some man!” Juliet argued indignantly. “He’s...different from any man I’ve ever known. And what we have means more to me than anything I’ve ever known.”

She glanced down at the necklace that sparkled against her skin. A constant reminder of how much she meant to him as well.

“Oh, come off of your cloud, will you?” Lottie snapped.

“Lottie,” Juliet said seriously. “The whole time I was with Arthur, did you ever know me to put him before work? Or my family?”

“No, so why is this Ron fellow -”

“Because it is different,” Juliet emphasized. “This is it, Lottie. He’s the one.”

That seemed to stump her. “Has he...proposed?”

“No, he hasn’t,” Juliet said. “I don’t even care if he does.”

Lottie scoffed. “Don’t be ridiculous, you can’t just carry on living in sin.”

Juliet rolled her eyes. “Could you please pay attention to what's important here? There’s a man in my life who I genuinely see a happy future with and I just...I want to focus on that. Is that so wrong?”

“I suppose not,” Lottie sighed, and Juliet inwardly celebrated a moment of victory. “But I can’t pay you if you aren’t working. At least be making the proper phone calls to follow this Pied Piper story. Conduct interviews of other families there who have taken in children from the cities. Part of the story is there if you know where to look.”

“No problem,” Juliet said. “You’ll be glad to know I’ve already begun. I’ve got an interview with the Barnes family next week, who are housing a little girl. I’ll ask them about how the process went for them.”

“Perfect,” Lottie said. She paused for a beat. “And, Juliet?”

“Yes?”

“I really am happy for you.”

Juliet smiled softly. “Thank you, Lottie.”

***

Spring fully thawed the winter out by the time April arrived. Aldbourne was rather charming in bloom. But Juliet wasn’t sure if it was the flowers or that she was in love. She found herself humming a lot more than she used to - these days she didn’t even need food to start a merry tune in the back of her throat. She had more energy, despite spending rather long nights in Ron’s arms. And she found her enthusiasm for work - even though her priority shifted - a great deal easier to come by as well.

The interview with the Barnes family went splendidly. They were also housing a couple of lieutenants from the Airborne, though they were not in Ron’s company. Juliet only exchanged brief greetings with them, as they were heading to work just as she was entering the house. She nearly melted at the connection they had formed with the girl - Ann - which was clear in their goodbyes to her for the day. She seemed particularly close to the tall redhead.

Juliet told Ron about it that evening over drinks.

“Yeah, that’s Winters and Welsh,” he told her. “Good officers.”

“Do they spend much time here?” she wondered, indicating the Blue Boar.

“Welsh does, but Winters doesn’t drink,” he said. “He spends most nights there with the family.”

“I can tell,” she said. “I mean, it was seriously precious. She hugged his knees and he patted her on the head and I think I fell a little bit in love with him for a moment.”

He scoffed. “Good luck, I think he has a girlfriend.”

“Has he?” she questioned.

“Yeah, the nurse,” he said. “She works for the regiment.”

“You lot have your own nurse?”

“She’s got some connection to Colonel Sink,” he said with a shrug. “I’ve never actually met her.”

“And what about the other chap?” she asked. “Welsh?”

“He’s engaged,” he told her. “Her name’s Kitty.”

“You know that but not the name of the nurse?” she questioned.

“I only know because Harry never shuts up about her,” he said. “The whole regiment knows at this point. Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if the Krauts knew.”

She giggled. “I think that’s sweet.”

“It’s obnoxious.”

“You mean, you don’t brag about me to the whole regiment?” she teased. “Romance is dead.”

“Sorry for your loss,” he retorted as he took a swig of his drink.

“Not as sorry as I am,” she returned. “Now I’ll have to spend God knows how many hours in mourning.”

“At least you look good in black,” he said.

“My saving grace,” she agreed with a smile. She paused for a beat. “Seriously, you don’t talk about me at all?”

“I do if you come up,” he told her.

“And what do you say?” she wondered.

“Whatever’s relevant,” he said.

She rolled her eyes. “You’re impossible.”

“I prefer not to broadcast my personal life,” he said. “All they need to know is that you’re mine.”

She smiled as she leaned over to kiss his cheek. “That’s true.”

***

April was drawing to a close. Juliet stood in her room, preparing to go and interview another Aldbourne family about their process in fostering a child from London. These interviews were restoring the bit of faith she’d lost in covering Peggy’s story because most of the families were very kind, and doted on the children. They were proud of doing what they could to ensure the future of England. And the children were mostly happy. What happened to Peggy was a tragedy and an outlier.

She was just getting ready to leave when Ron entered her room. A grim shadow of doubt on his features made her smile disappear as fast as it had come. Something was wrong. He definitely had bad news.

“We’re moving out,” he told her.

She had expected this at some point, but she still blinked in surprise. Her shoulders drooped as the reality of it percolated through her.

“Oh,” she said. “Well...when?”

He hesitated. “This is off the record -”

She scowled at him, momentarily offended that he felt the need to clarify.

“Everything between us is protected, Ron,” she said sharply. “You and I are always off the record unless stated otherwise.”

“Sorry,” he said quickly, picking up on her tone. “I know that, I just -”

“When?” she demanded again.

“End of May,” he said. “I don’t know when we’ll be back.”

The if hung in the air, but remained unsaid. This was it. The moment she had been dreading since she met him. Well, maybe not that long, but since they had started getting to know each other there in Aldbourne. The war was taking him from her, like it took everything.

“I see…” she trailed off, her annoyance easing up. That was sooner than she had hoped and she didn’t want to waste any precious time being angry at him. “Um...where - wait, I can’t ask you that.” She bit her lip. “When - oh, no, you’ve just told me, that’s right -”

“Juliet.”

“Yes?”

“Wait for me.”

Once again, Ron failed to disappoint her. Despite all the reassurance, she worried that when they shipped out, he would take the opportunity to break it off with her. Instead, he was asking - in his way - for a commitment from her. She held his gaze for a long moment, waiting for him to say more. But he didn’t.

“You really want to stay together?” she asked.

“Yes,” he said assuredly.

“Oh, thank God,” she sighed, and she threw herself into his arms for a kiss.

He returned the kiss with enthusiasm, his lips fiery and desperate against hers. As if he were leaving the following morning instead of a couple of weeks. But Juliet wanted the intensity. She wanted to savor every touch, every kiss, every moment she had before he was gone. She also wanted to let him know that she absolutely would wait for him. She would do anything he asked of her. She just wanted him. Forever, if possible. And if the war robbed her of that, she would at least have the memories of kisses like these. Of nights in his arms. Of his unwavering dedication to her.

***

The arrangements were made for Juliet to return to London once Ron and the rest of the Airborne were off. On his final morning in Aldbourne, they of course made love again, only it was the after that they relished even more. Juliet etched into her brain the feeling of his embrace, the warmth of his skin, the sound of his voice. She wished desperately that she could freeze time and hold onto him for just a little longer. She had found something so wonderful and now it was being dragged away from her.

“Jules,” he said, voice low as if there might be someone listening on the other side of the door.

“Yeah?”

“We’re going to France,” he said.

She blinked and adjusted her position so she could look him in the face. “France?”

He nodded. “I wanted you to know.”

She couldn’t explain why that felt more intimate than anything they had just done in her bed.

“Why tell me now?” she asked, curious.

He swallowed, his eyes fixed on the ceiling, but his arm gave her shoulders a squeeze.

“Trust,” he said.

She pressed her lips tenderly to his chest to let him know how much she appreciated his trust. There was no longer a need to specify on or off the record. His statements were privileged. Anything he told her would remain between them.

For a fleeting moment, she considered telling him right then that she loved him. Because if he was going to France, there was a chance he would never come back. And shouldn’t he know just in case? But her heart told her to play it safe. If she didn’t tell him now, perhaps whatever power there was would protect him enough so that she could say it later. If there were still things left to be said, hopefully that would keep him alive.

There were no guarantees, of course. All they had was each other and their promise.

That afternoon, the trucks began rumbling out of Aldbourne. Juliet walked Ron as far as she was allowed. Her chest felt tight as the impending goodbye hung in the air. She hated this. It was too painful. How could it be that the very war that brought them together would also be the reason for their parting? What was fair about that? Nothing, that’s what.

A kiss from Ron drew her out of her thoughts. He held her firmly against him, almost as if he were afraid she would disappear right out of his grasp. When they parted, they were both breathless.

“Be careful,” she said.

His eyes searched hers. “You too.”

Her brain was practically screaming at her to tell him now just what she felt. But she was too afraid. Too afraid it would doom him. Too afraid he wouldn’t say it back. Or even worse, say it only because of the passionate nature of the moment. It had to be when they weren’t so desperate. When they really meant it because whatever was coming was not a threat.

“I’ll write,” she told him.

“I’ll respond when I can,” he returned.

She nodded. Her throat was dry and thick. The lack of tears in her eyes surprised her. How could she not be crying when she could feel her heart breaking so badly? She kissed him again. Just to prolong the last moment where he was only hers.

“Stay safe,” she told him.

He nodded.

With one last kiss, they said goodbye without saying it. Juliet went to the train station and headed home to London. And Ron went to war.

#band of brothers #ron speirs #juliet fletcher #ron speirs x ofc #hbo war #you better you better you bet series #Easy Company #band of brothers fic #hbo war fic

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wowcool808 · 3 years

Text

Obey Me-A Midnight Encounter Pt. 1-Older Brothers

This is a scenario I made about the brothers stumbling across the MC while they are getting water. I really figured it would be easier to divide the brothers’ experience, so I’ll post the last part with the younger brothers as soon as I finish it. I hope you enjoy!

To set the scene, MC is laying in their bed, staring up at the ceiling. They have been awake longer than they would like, and they don’t know what to do to lull themselves back asleep. After thinking for a while, they finally decide to just get some melatonin. Seems like a smart thing to do first, but it was all the way in the bathroom, which seemed like a mile away in the mellow darkness. MC grabs the suggested amount, and starts to move downstairs to get a drink of water to wash it down. Creeping around in an oversized, cat onesie, MC enters the kitchen and quietly reaches for the cup, when...

Luci-

Luci came into the kitchen to check to make sure Beel hadn’t eaten all the food in the fridge, when he saw a figure standing in front of the sink. The soft moonlight and the digital clock light on the oven illuminated their body, showing that the figure was in a large, black onesie. Originally, he thought that it was Belphie, since he was the only one that had ever worn a onesie in the house. But, that’s just because MC was always shy in theirs, and prefered to keep their warm and fluffy habits in their own room. He realized that Belphie wouldn’t be up from out of his bed at all at this time, or at all, for that matter, so he was kind of confused. He approached slowly, arms crossed.

His suspicions were answered as MC quickly turned around to look behind them after hearing movement. He saw their shadowy face lit by the window next to them, and saw that it was in fact MC who was wearing the onesie. He cracked a smile and shook his head as he walked over to them. “I didn’t know kittens were able to stand up and use the sink.” he said. “Haha, very funny” MC said, trying to hide the fact they're overly embarrassed from being caught in less-than-favorable attire.

Luci walked over to the fridge and opened it up. “Looks like Beel hasn’t gotten to the fridge yet, that’s good.” MC nods and quietly pours themselves a glass of water. They put the pill in their mouth, and gulped the water down, satisfying their throat.

“Why’re you up so late, you have classes tomorrow.” Luci said, closing the fridge. His large figure towers over MC.

“Well, I couldn’t fall asleep, so I decided to take some melatonin and water.”

“Ah, I see. Well, hopefully it works, then.”

He looked out the window, the big, silver lined moon lighting up his face. His tired yet stubborn disposition almost looked beautiful from this angle. MC can’t help but stand there in awe, looking at him. Luci shifted his body and noticed MC looking at him. Of course, MC looked away, but it was too late. He laughed and cocked his head “What?” he asked teasingly. MC shook their head and turned away. ‘Great now what?’ they think, regretting their actions.

Luci chuckled and leaned against a counter. He raised an eyebrow and said to MC “Well, if you’re not answering me, I presume you should at least head to bed now?” MC nodded and headed to their room. They took a last look at Luci and said

“Goodnight Luci.”

“Goodnight, kitty” He says, with a slightly mocking tone.

MC rolled their eyes and headed upstairs. Luci watched them leave to their room, and looked at the cup MC drank out of on the counter. He takes it, looks at it, and lets out a small laugh. After putting the cup in the sink, he slowly starts to slink back to his room.

Mammon-

Mammon had crept downstairs to see if there were any new Akuzon (Amazon) packages. Not because he ordered anything, but because he wanted to check to see if there were any packages with anything valuable in them. And since Levi spends all of his money on merchandise and games, it was almost guaranteed.

He was searching through a rather large box, when he heard something in

the kitchen, so he hesitantly crept into it. Poking his head around the corner, he saw a large, black figure next to the sink, rummaging through the cupboards. He freaked out as he assumed this random figure in no shoes somehow got through the high-security of the house to search the cup and bowl cabinets. Sorry Mammon, you sweet, tsundere dumbass, you’re the only thief in this house!

Mammon prepared himself for the encounter by creeping up behind them,

momentum building in his drawn fist. But, he made one fatal mistake. The poor boy was unlucky and stepped on a creaking floor board. MC turns around abruptly after hearing the sound, and saw Mammon there, standing like a dork with his fist drawn

Engulfed in his own swirl of emotions, and Mammon is not able to even realize who’s in front of him. ‘It’s now or never’ he thinks as he lunges forward, putting his weight in the punch.

Of course, MC saw this coming (since he was standing there for a half a second looking like a deer in the headlights) and ducked their head immediately, causing Mammon to fall forward with his weight.

Because of the hand he used, he fell forward to the right, colliding with MC’s ducked form. He accidentally pushes them into the counter, and then to the floor. They had ended up on the floor, facing each other about a foot apart.

Groaning on the ground, Mammon turns to see MC facial features illuminated in the moonlight, and he jumps up.

“W-what are you doing up this late, MC?” He asks quickly

“I just needed to get some water” they say, rubbing their head.

“Why are you dressed like that!? In pitch black clothing? I thought you were some guy breaking in!”

“They’re my pajamas, Mammon, stop over thinking everything.” MC says, smiling.

“I’m not the one that dodged my attack and made me fall over.” He says in a whiny voice.

“Well, you didn’t dodge yourself, but you fell on your own.”

Mammon sighed and put his hands on his hips. “Ugh, some humans” (I know he’s a human in this world, but I still like the idea of him calling MC “one of those humans”) “Well, do you need help up?” He said, offering a hand.

MC nodded and grabbed his hand. “Thanks, Mammon”

Mammon pulls MC up and brushes his hands on his pants. “Yeah, well I only did it to be nice, I’m not making it a habit.”

“Whatever you say, Mammon.” MC says as they grab their drink and walk away.

Levi-

Levi crept down the stairs silently, avoiding making any sound whatsoever. He wanted to catch Mammon in the act, and he couldn’t alarm him whatsoever. Well, he wasn’t sure Mammon was there, but Levi had ordered a surplus of packages that day, so he was determined to make sure they were okay. As he looked over at the front doors, he counted eleven packages, which was the exact amount he ordered. Figuring he needed a pair of scissors to open them, he walked into the kitchen to check the supply drawer.

He turned the light on and looked through the drawers. He pulled out wrenches, screwdrivers, pens, and an assortment of related tools, but no scissors. He had pulled out a suspicious, hand made tool with multiple knives attached to it, when he saw something in the corner of his eye. He whipped around and jumped in shock. MC was standing near him in a large cat onesie, staring at him with a curious expression.

“What are you doing, Levi?” they asked, staring at the odd tool.

“I- uh- Er-” Levi stuttered. He wanted to answer, but he couldn’t. They just looked so… Moe that he couldn’t stand it. Why did he just find out MC had a giant, black kitten onesie? Well, obviously, MC was shy enough to keep it hidden, so it makes sense as to why he hasn’t seen it before. He would’ve probably done the same thing if he bought one.

MC had been staring at Levi’s stuttering, flushed self for a good thirty seconds. “What?” They say, raising their eyebrow in a taunting manner.

“Um, Y-you just...You’re wearing...” He said trailing off.

“O-Oh! Right…” MC said, looking down at themselves embarrassed. “I got this a while ago, back home, but I always wore it in my room here, since it seems too childish to wear it around anyone else. Though, I much rather you see me in a onesie than anyone else. Uh- wait, that came out wrong, sorry”

Levi blinked and slowly started regaining his senses, ignoring the accidental insult. MC looked at the tool in his hand and asked what it was for.

“O-oh, right. I was just looking at this one, whatever it is. But, I originally came here to grab scissors for my Amazon packages. Though, I guess this weird contraption will work as well.” He says, pocketing the various knives. MC helped Levi put all the supplies back, and MC moved to grab a glass of water.

“Is that what you came for?” Levi asks, probably just to make up for the silence.

“Yeah, well, I wanted to take melatonin to help fall asleep, so I needed water.”

“Oh wait, you need help falling asleep?”

“Yeah, I’ve had pretty bad insomnia since I was young, and I guess it just kind of gotten worse over the years.”

“Oh, well, I just got this new serum I found on Amazon. It’s called Hazydew Softsyrup, and you just need to add it to tea to get the full effect. I got it for myself, since the blue light from my PC keeps me awake for a while, but you can use it for the night. I can order another bottle tomorrow too if you want.”

MC’s face lifted and they smiled. “Really? You would actually give me a bottle of that syrup?”

“I mean, sure, if you want it.” Levi says, looking down.

“Yes please, that would be awesome. Thanks.” MC said, releasing a sigh of relief.

“Y-yeah, no problem.” He said, moving towards the front room. MC followed him, and took the bottle eagerly when Levi offered. But, when MC took the bottle, instead of leaving, they linger there hesitantly. After a moment, they lean in towards Levi and kisses him gently on the cheek. Levi blinked, and stared blankly. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

MC smirked “What’s the matter, cat got your tongue?”

#obey me #obey me leviathan #obey me levi #obey me mammon #obey me brothers #obey me headcanons #headcannon #headcannons

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tomhiddlestonfanfic · 3 years

Text

Improvising

TITLE: Improvising CHAPTER NUMBER/ONE SHOT: One shot WHICH TOM CHARACTER: Actor Tom PAIRING: Tom Hiddleston/Reader GENRE: Romance sort of INSPIRATION: Hank Williams answers and Loki answers REQUEST: Tom Hiddleston x (non actress) reader where reader is a vlogger who does song covers and has a friend who does interviews, and is able to get a chance to interview Tom, but for some reason was unable to do so on the scheduled date due to some emergency and asked reader to do it,but left questions that reader thinks might be inappropriate to Tom so she improvises and thought of more sensible questions which piqued Tom's interest specially when he finds out of the questions that was prepared for him?

Improvising

You found yourself standing there in the hotel lobby waiting for Tom Hiddleston himself. Your friend, who was supposed to do the interview, got sick and for that reason couldn’t do the interview. So you had gotten called in just over an hour ago, and had no time to prepare. You trusted your friend to have everything ready for the interview, but as you stood there, skimming through the questions, your heart nearly stopped. Was this some sort of a joke? You couldn’t possibly ask him about those kinds of things without sinking through the floor in shame. With a rousing sense of panic, you went through the papers, trying to find the real questions or anything of substance, but you ended up empty handed. You almost felt like crying as you glanced down at your watch, realising that there was only five minutes left until your scheduled meeting. You rummaged through your purse for a pen and a paper and was just about to start writing new questions when the subject of the interview suddenly appeared in the lobby.

“Umm, excuse me mister Hiddleston, are you here for the interview? I mean, of course you are...” you greeted him nervously as he approached you with a warm smile.

“Hi, you must be Riley. Please, feel free to call me Tom,” Tom replied as he shook your hand.

“Actually, Riley is sick, so I’m standing in for her,” you informed him with a shy smile.

“Ah, I see. What’s your name then?” Tom asked with interest as he still held your hand in his.

“[Your name],” you replied.

“Nice to meet you, [your name],” Tom said with a smile

“It’s very nice to meet you too, Tom,” you replied blushingly, feeling a bit strange as you spoke his name so familiarly. “This way,” you added and led him to the room in which the interview was to be held. You both sat down on the chairs in front of the camera as soon as Tom had politely introduced himself to the man behind the camera and the man in control of the microphone hovering over your heads just out of line of sight for the camera.

“Are you ready?” the cameraman asked to which Tom answered ‘yes’ and you answered a truthful ‘not really’.

“I’m sorry,” you apologised flusteredly. “I’m ready.”

“Camera rolling,” the cameraman announced and you could feel yourself grow pale. You nervously glanced down at the papers, but quickly looked away as you struggled not to grimace at the questions on there.

“I’m sitting here with Tom Hiddleston. Welcome to the R and R show, Tom,” you said, grateful that you at least got the name of the show right. At least that was something.

“Thanks for having me,” Tom replied politely.

“The pleasure is all ours,” you said with a smile. “So, Tom… I personally think you really did a great job portraying Hank Williams in I Saw the Light.”

“Thank you, I really appreciate it,” Tom said and smiled at you. You couldn’t help but get caught up in his beautiful blue eyes as he looked at you.

“Um… One thing I found particularly interesting in the movie was the moment when Hank said that everybody has a little darkness inside of them, that he showed it to them and they heard it, but they didn’t have to take it home with them. I was wondering if you would like to elaborate what you think Hank Williams’s darkness consisted of,” you said as you mentally cursed your friend for not having come up with better questions herself so you wouldn’t have to improvise like this.

“Interesting question,” Tom commended and touched his chin thoughtfully before answering. “Ehm, as is well-known, Hank struggled with alcohol and drug addiction, and I suppose you could say that it’s a way of how the darkness portrayed itself. But what exactly this darkness consisted of is difficult to say. In the scene you’re referring to, Hank mentions anger, sorrow and shame. But I think it’s more complicated than just that when it comes to Hank. I think there was something in him that was addicted to the darkness and that it somehow felt more real to him than anything else. I think part of his darkness was his very addiction to it. Do I make any sense?”

“I think so...” you replied and decided to elaborate. “The attraction to the darkness itself was part of his darkness. His unwillingness to let go of it made it darker... Like staying in a dark corner of a room instead of coming out into the light.”

“Exactly,” Tom agreed and his face lit up as he looked at you. “It was like Hank felt more comfortable in his dark corner than out in the light. And I think as he went into the vortex of addiction, into the darkness, he couldn’t stay sober for long enough to see clearly, to come out into the light and see how many people actually cared about him.”

“That’s tragic,” was your instinctive response.

“It is,” Tom agreed.

“Hank Williams isn’t the only character with darkness inside of him that you’ve played... I think you could say that Adam in Only Lovers Left Alive had a bit of darkness inside of him as well. Ehm… would you say that there are any similarities between Adam and Hank?” you asked, trying not to grimace at how far fetched your question felt.

“Interesting question,” Tom said again, causing you to blush. It made you glad to hear that he found your questions interesting, seeing as you got them at the top of your head. “Well, while Adam is obviously fictional and a vampire, I think there are similarities between him and Hank. They are both musicians,” he said grabbing his index finger as he began to count the similarities between the two characters. “They both have a darkness inside of them, like you said yourself,” he told you and grabbed his long finger as well. “They both seem lonely even though they have people around them who care…” he said and grabbed a third finger. “There are probably more things they have in common...”

“Well, how about the differences between Adam and Hank?” you asked.

“Adam is fictional whereas Hank is real. Adam’s a vampire and Hank is human. While Adam had a long life, Hank’s life was tragically short. He died of heart failure at only twenty nine years of age. He was one of those stars that shine brightly but burn out quickly, while Adam is more of a slow burning star,” Tom replied and you found yourself nodding in agreement at his answers.

“Yes... Another character with a long lifespan is the god of mischief himself. Loki. I heard you were working on a Loki TV show, is there anything you could tell us about that?” you asked curiously.

"Well, the series starts right after Loki grabs the tesseract in Avengers: Endgame. It'll be six hours of air time and it will be released on Disney plus in 2021. Sorry I can't tell you much more than that at this point," Tom said.

"That's alright. So we have six more hours of Loki to look forward to, that's great. How did you feel about revisiting the part? You've been playing him for quite some years now," you wondered.

"I've been playing him for ten years now and I really enjoyed revisiting the role as Loki. I feel like I know this character now, and the audience knows him. The most exciting aspect of playing him is to present him with new challenges, which change him in different ways," Tom replied, seemingly happy to talk about Loki.

The cameraman motioned for you to wrap up the interview, leaving you disappointed that your meeting with Tom was already coming to an end.

"I really look forward to seeing what new challenges Loki's up against. Unfortunately it seems our time is up. Thank you so much Tom Hiddleston for coming here and joining us on the R and R show," you said, genuinely grateful to actually meet him in person.

"Thanks for having me," Tom told you, his smile making your heart skip a beat.

"Cut," said the cameraman.

"Thank you for saving me with your interesting answers," you told Tom once the camera was off.

"Saving you?" he asked surprisedly. "I hardly think you needed saving, you did great with the questions," he commended.

"You really think so?" you said, feeling relieved as he nodded his head ‘yes’ in response. "Thank you. I was not at all prepared for this, so I had to improvise," you admitted.

"You improvised? Then you're a natural at this," he praised, seemingly impressed. "Didn't your friend prepare the questions?"

"In all honesty, her questions were not up to standard. Some were downright dreadful," you said truthfully.

"Really? Dreadful you say?" he asked interestedly. "Would you let me see her questions?" Tom requested curiously and you reluctantly handed them over to him while blushing, as though you were somehow responsible for them.

"Oh," he uttered understandingly as he skimmed through the questions about James Bond, Taylor Swift, what type of women he preferred and if he was feeling lonely now that he was single. "Thank you for not asking me about all this," he said with relief and kept reading the questions, grimacing at some and laughing at others.

"If your friend was seriously going to ask me those questions, I'm almost glad she was sick," Tom said jokingly, causing you to laugh. "It not just because I wish to avoid another awkward interview, but because it was a real delight to be interviewed by you."

"Oh, thank you," you said feeling flattered. "I found it really nice talking to you too."

“I still have some time left before my next interview, if you would like to grab a cup of coffee,” Tom offered.

“I would love to,” you answered, barely able to contain your excitement.

You continued talking to each other about different kinds of things. This time it was almost as though he was interviewing you, asking about your life. When he found out that you had a vlog where you posted song covers his face lit up.

"I'll make sure to check it out," he promised and pulled out his phone to write down the name of your vlog.

When it was time to finally part, Tom added, "feel free to contact me if you want to grab another coffee or something. It was really nice talking to you, [your name]." He handed you a piece of paper with what appeared to be his phone number on it before leaving. You stood there dumbfounded for a moment. Then you smiled to yourself thinking that sometimes improvising really pays off. You had never expected that you would be so glad that your friend had come down with a cold.

#tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston fanfiction #tomhiddleston #tomhiddlestonfanfiction #tom hiddleston real person fanfiction #request #tom hiddleston x reader

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sserpente · 3 years

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Synopsis: After his lucky escape, the Tesseract takes Loki on new adventures--but unfortunately, his journeys through space do not go unnoticed and he soon ends up on TVA’s radar. The deal is a simple one: Become a recruit and help the Time Variance Authority fight time crimes to earn your freedom again eventually or die. Loki accepts the challenge. It would not be long until he could use their own weapons against them, after all. If only that, however, were his only concern. Least of all did he expect that with his reluctant arrival at TVA, a woman would step into his life and wreak havoc in his heart. He does not know what it is about her that he seeks her presence like a bee hunting for honey--but he is determined to find out.

A/N: Gaaaah, I haven’t nearly pre-written as many chapters as I would like to have pre-written before starting to post but I just can’t wait any longer! I finally want to share this story with you guys, I am so hyped about it! So, without further ado--enjoy the first chapter of “Pastel Blue”! I hope you like it! ♥

Chapter 1

Tick Tock. That clock on the wall was driving her crazy, it had been ever since she had been assigned to this dull office. She spent most of her time in the lab, working in midst of dangerous and highly sensitive equipment and delicate devices.

Tick Tock. She was going to smash it—with a big hammer, perhaps, or even better, a jackhammer. It was ugly too. Made of wood and obviously antique, late 18th century probably. What had Mobius been thinking?

Oh yeah, him. Mobius M. Mobius, her I-am-not-your-father-but-I-will-treat-you-like-my-daughter supervisor and babysitter, thank you very much. Granted, he was old enough to be her father, taking into consideration that in her mid-twenties, there wasn’t much need for a parental figure in her life anymore.

Tick Tock. She sighed. The pile of paperwork she had been handed this morning had seemingly not shrunk by even an inch. She could swear she had not been stalling today. Breakfast, work, lunch break, work… Tick Tock. She rolled her eyes. No. This was unreasonable. Grunting a few not so decent swear words, she gathered the spreadsheets and dozens of handwritten notes, sending the calming ruffling of paper through the air and exited the room without so much as thinking about what Mobius would think about her wandering places around the TVA during work hours again.

Besides, the kitchen and common room right around the corner of her desired destination was equipped with the best coffee machine modern technology had to offer. Hot chocolate with mint and a hint of vanilla? Oh yes, please!

At this time of the day, the lab in question was deserted. Pens, pliers and other small tools lay scattered all over the metal tables as if someone had just finished their work for the day. Some of the devices in here could cause major damage if activated accidentally or even at the wrong time. Now there was the thrill, the proximity to endless possibilities.

After turning a few laps around the tables to see if anything had changed or improved at all since the last time she was here (which would be yesterday), she eventually made herself comfortable at the huge desk fully equipped with a cup holder, sockets and a fancy table lamp. The chair was the best part, enabling her to swirl around whenever she felt like she needed a refreshing spin.

She had just pulled out her burrow from her hair, having twirled it around one of the lighter strands. Her guess was the sun had bestowed its warm kisses upon her chocolate brown hair in the summer. Leaning over her papers, she got back to work.

But it was only five minutes until she heard the heavy metal door with the see-through glass panel being pushed open, followed by someone clearing their throat.

“Jess, do you have a moment?” Mobius asked. Jess tilted her head, the slightest frown accompanied by a gentle smirk decorating her face. What, no chastising for changing work locations today? She swirled around on her chair, expecting to see the man in question in his grey suit and the signature scar across his nose stare her down with arms akimbo. Instead, he was holding on to the door tensely, right next to him, seemingly out of place in the threshold, a man with raven hair and the most stunning pair of blue eyes she had ever had the pleasure to lock her gaze with. Her eyes were blue as well—Loki’s, however, seemed to shimmer green in the artificial light of the lab. She didn’t get much daylight, all the way down here.

“M?” Jess smiled. She rose, ignoring the slight trembling of her knees as she approached the two, keeping a safe distance. Her heart skipped a beat with every single step, her chest resembling a magnet pulling her towards Loki like a powerless needle.

“I’ve told you, repeatedly, to stay in your own office.” Ah, there it was.

“I have asked you, repeatedly, to re-locate my office here.” She retorted with a smug expression, eyes darting over to Loki. Mobius shook his head. “An introduction is probably redundant. Jess, this is Loki.”

He was wearing the orange prison clothes TVA had manufactured a few years back. She had to admit, orange suited him rather well, bringing out his cheekbones and the dark hair framing his flawless face. His lips were thin, his jawline to die for. She would be lying if she denied his attractiveness. Loki was a god, after all. Most prominent to his appearance, however, were the shackles around his naked wrists and the metal collar hiding most of his long neck—a chunky but firm reminder his powers were all but a myth as long as the light was blinking bright red like a traffic light screaming stop at him like a sleep-deprived police officer.

Loki lifted his chin, allowing pride and confidence to flood his aura. Out of all the people he had encountered in this strange place so far, alterations of his very own self on an old-fashioned projector included, she was by far the oddest. Jess, so he learned, wore a colourful choker around her neck as well as two bracelets of the same kind. They reminded him of sugar pearls. If he had asked her about them, she could have revealed to him that they were indeed candy necklaces—and that she wore them because Mobius had stressed there were no edible snacks allowed at work. The elegant pieces of jewellery hanging down her earlobes, however, appeared to be non-edible. Two delicate silver charms, holding what Loki identified to be moonstones. They suited her, complementing the long brown hair and the outstanding colour of her eyes. Blue—just like his.

“The God of Mischief.” She completed, the fraction of a second after he had studied her conspicuous appearance. She added a court but polite nod. “I was kind of hoping to meet you one day.” And so she was. The rumours had spread across the entire facility like wildfire, reaching even the Minutemen based in different timelines. Loki, the Norse God of Mischief, had stolen an Infinity Stone and escaped his respective timeline—a timeline reaching all the way back to 2012—creating a new branch of reality entirely. Unsupervised, he could have caused serious damage to the very fabric of time and the multiverse. He had to be stopped, had to be captured, had to be persuaded.

Mobius had expressed his interest in getting the infamous Trickster to work for him frequently. Loki was skilled, intelligent, witty, a talented fighter and most of all, one of the most capable users of magic the multiverse had to offer. His stories of victory and defeat were known to most of the TVA and yet, they resonated with her to an extent her colleagues could never fathom. Above everything Loki had had to experience—above all Loki will have had to experience—there was a thick layer of loneliness clouding his aura like a blanket of ice-cold snow. It was a suitable comparison, given his heritage.

“I didn’t just hear that.” Mobius intervened. He sized her up like an unpredictable teenager. “The God of Mischief has retired. Loki here has just agreed on working for us.”

“With you,” Loki interrupted. “Not for you. Reluctantly.” That would leave her wondering what exactly it was Mobius had offered him in return.

Jess chuckled. “Now that is a matter of opinion, trust me. I would know.” Raising an eyebrow, she gave Mobius a challenging glare.

“I need you to cover a shift.” He responded matter-of-factly. Jess’ eyebrow rose even higher. “Reese just jumped back from 1792.”

“And?”

“He almost made his personal acquaintance with the guillotine. They’re patching him up in the hospital wing right now.”

Sucking in a deep breath, Jess took a step back, realising just what kind of favour, no, requirement Mobius would ask for. Reese had been in the TVA for more than three decades—he had not aged a day since his accession as a matter of fact—and his experience and excessive excitement over the Avengers had made him the perfect candidate to keep an eye on Loki while he was still not to be trusted—if he was ever going to be trusted, that was. He was the God of Mischief, after all.

“I’m on probation, remember? What makes you think I should cover for him of all people?” Loki rolled his eyes and for a moment, you almost felt sorry for excluding him from a conversation that was clearly about him.

“Call it an experiment. Prove to me that we can rely on you and I’ll end your probation.” Jess resisted the urge to shake his hand off her shoulder when he leaned forward to touch her in a fatherly manner.

“Sir, do you have a moment?” A Minuteman had appeared behind them. Jess had never quite figured out how they moved so quietly. Their shoe soles must have been made of feathers. In turn, the stilettos she usually wore to smuggle a few more inches to her height were loud and made satisfying noises ricocheting through the hallways when she walked, emitting confidence and even smugness. She needed that boost every once in a while.

Mobius nodded. As he released Jess’ shoulder and pushed past Loki—who did, much to her amusement, not move an inch for the senior manager—he pointed a finger at him. “Behave.”

The lab door fell shut behind him, drowning all noises from the outside like a soundproof recording room. Jess gaped at Loki for a second, her body once again threatening to overwhelm her with the magnetic pull she felt towards the Trickster, fascination setting her veins ablaze.

“You do not look human.” Loki suddenly said, breaking the uncomfortable silence. Jess pouted.

“Excuse me? I am hoping you meant that as a compliment, I am as human as I’ll ever be.” Loki frowned, then responded with a hum.

“I take it you hop timelines for him too then, fixing the damage others have done.”

“Me? No.” Jess shook her head. “I am not a Minuteman. I wish I was, trust me, but I have got nothing to do with that, unfortunately. I work in the linguistics department, spending all day translating protocols and time recordings from all sorts of languages. Now I know what you’re thinking. With its technology, shouldn’t TVA be able to translate everything using a smart computer program?” She shrugged. “Well, technically you’re right. But there’s a bunch of languages out there that simply don’t exist either here on Earth or any other known realm. We’re only human—and a computer program is only as smart as its creator. It can’t translate a language that does not consist of words, for example, that would go against the very human comprehension of its programmer.”

“Then how do you speak them?” Loki probed.

“That’s my superpower. I don’t know why I can understand them, I just… do. And what did it get me?” She raised her hands in a dramatic motion. “Paperwork. Lots of paperwork. The only way for me to get in on the real action is this place here. Take a look at this.” Loki watched her move towards what resembled a toaster, shaped like a metal suitcase that had been left open. Smiling, she reached for a shining red apple on the table and placed it on the black surface before activating the switch. She had seen the scientists do this dozens of times before. In fact, she was sure she could handle most of the devices in here in her sleep. As the small machine hummed to life, it sent a deafening vibration through the room and then, just like someone had hit fast-forward with a remote, the apple shrivelled and rotted.

“Pretty cool, huh? It works the other way around too once it recharged. They haven’t figured out how to make it work for living beings, including humans, just yet, though. This is just a prototype anyway, the real thing is supposed to help re-animate the dead for a short amount of time to solve time crimes and shit. I swear I’d get a major in science if I lived another life. My father was one. Before he died, that is.” Jess wasn’t quite sure what made her open up to the God of Mischief and tell her about her personal family drama. She usually babbled when nervousness got the better of her but this was a new level of openness entirely. They all knew her story, after all, but apart from Mobius, they all pretended they didn’t. “You see? TVA is not all bad, even if it may seem so at first. M can be an arsehole sometimes, I know. He calls our main timeline in which everything began,” Jess continued with a dramatic voice, “the Null-Time Zone. I never figured out why and he won’t tell me.”

“Because you don’t listen, Jess.” Mobius answered, holding the door open with the Minuteman who had asked for his advice impatiently but mutely waiting for his turn again behind him.

“So?” She probed, pointing at the God of Mischief with her chin, her arms crossed. “If I am to play babysitter for a while, where am I staying? Where is Loki staying?”

“Your place.” Jess blinked, incredulousness spreading on her face like a clean swipe of butter on warm toasted bread.

“My place?”

“Your residential unit is supervised and equipped with modern alarm systems, just in case you decide to make trouble again, remember? We’ll position security outside the door in addition to that, killing two birds with one stone. Besides, it’s only temporary. Reese should be up and on his feet again in no time. The blade only grazed him before he made the jump back.”

“That does not sound reassuring!” Jess stood up straight to prove her point and yet, even compared to Mobius, she was nowhere near tall enough to make an impact with her body language at this time.

“You can take the rest of the day off as compensation. Show Loki to your unit. Make yourselves acquainted. I’ll send security to collect him in five minutes—to the second!”

~*~

She seems familiar almost… like part of me has known her forever. It was a thought which jumped into Loki’s mind and implanted itself in his head like a parasite. A mere mortal, how could there possibly be a connection between them? But it wasn’t just magnetic fascination and intrigue. Loki felt a need to keep her in his presence much like she was about to be his cherished bride. Irritation crept up the back of his neck as he followed her through the branched corridors and back to the modern lift he had had to use upon his arrival.

He would only love to know just what it was that had gotten her on probation. Abuse of machinery for her own selfish purposes, perhaps? A prank which had gone too far and done damage to the organisation? Murder? No. Despite her toughness, he could not imagine the delicate mortal standing next to him in the elevator being capable of killing anyone.

When the elevator doors slid open again, the young woman gave him an almost sheepish smile. She hardly appeared worried by having to escort him all on her own, across empty hallways which were only too inviting to overpower her and escape. Something held him back. She did, so he realised with another wave of irritation electrifying his body.

“…the most dangerous missions they usually leave to Justice Peace and Death’s Head. Ever heard of them? They are like celebrities around here.” He heard her say just then. But Loki couldn’t possibly take less interest in this so-called Time Variance Authority. All he needed to know was that it was yet another, partially human-led secret organisation imagining with the naivety of a child that they held power over him. SHIELD had made this mistake in the past and they had paid the bitter price. TVA would be no different.

“The units here are labelled with our initials and the department number. This one.” Jess pointed at the first door coming into sight to their right and quite apparently, Mobius had not made any empty promises concerning Jess’ safety and surveillance. As they turned around the corner, they were greeted by a grimly looking security officer clutching one of those small devices Loki identified as a Taser, one which of the like Darcy Lewis had once used on his brother. He kept a straight face even as Jess unlocked the residential unit using her fingerprint and entered but gave him a provocative smirk before following her.

His own chambers back on Asgard—another life entirely, so it seemed now—were a reflection of who he was with their green accents, the countless books, the tidiness and the ancient parchment rolls on his dark mahogany desk from Vanaheim. If anything, analysing her personal living space to the very last grain of dust would satisfy his need to learn just why he felt so drawn her, perhaps.

The first item of furniture he took in was the long bookshelf towering all the way up to the ceiling, every inch filled with clearly read books about as thick as his wrist. He made a note to study the titles later. A coffee table full of empty peanut shells and a new package of peanuts still sealed neatly in their plastic bag, a caramel sofa on which he found more sealed peanut bags as well as a golden cushion with cheesy pom-poms. A drawer, a TV with large speakers and another electronic gadget resembling a fridge and two separate doorways which led to a bathing area, so he presumed, and her bedroom. Even with the overall lack of more furniture in the room, Jess had somehow managed to add her very own personal touch to the sterile residential unit.

“The bathroom is to the right, you’ll find refreshments and snacks in the fridge next to the TV. My bedroom is out of bounds. I hope you enjoyed the tour.” She chuckled, grabbing a blue leather jacket from the hook on the entrance door behind them. “Big meals are eaten in the cafeteria at certain times of the day though. Mobius wants to strengthen the team spirit but the cooks never say no to a late breakfast or a midnight snack if you ask them nicely.”

Loki narrowed his eyes at her. “Don’t you feel like a prisoner in this place?” A lackey for someone else to take the credit for your hard work, he added silently. He knew two of that kind—one being his brother, the other his alleged father. Loki suppressed a begrudged growl. Just in that moment and before she had a chance to reply to his provocative remark, there was a vigorous knock on the door.

“That’ll be your cue.” Jess announced. Loki had to force himself not to turn his head and catch one last glimpse of her as the grimly looking security man escorted him back to Mobius and, other than Jess, kept pushing him forward like cattle and yet, he was convinced he could feel her curious gaze resting on his back long after he had turned back around the corner, stepped into the elevator and even when he was reluctantly reunited with Mobius near the lab where they had first picked her up.

He was speaking to the same Minuteman who had interrupted them earlier—quietly, vividly and so engrossed in the seemingly heated conversation that he noticed Loki and his new bodyguard approaching only after his exceptional hearing had picked up shreds of information he made another mental note of using against them, sooner rather than later.

“You do realise that they’ll come after us with a vengeance, right? That could be the end of TVA once and for all, you know very well what he is capable of.”

“Let that be my concern. This is just a temporary solution—one which I am very curious about.”

“But it already—“

“I realise it already happened and that’s exactly why I’m doing this. All we need to do is stop it from happening again by observing the situation intently, stitch up the loop and we’ll be safe. This isn’t my first rodeo, Dave, you of all people should know this.”

“And what about the Tesseract? Wouldn’t it be smarter if we—“

The security officer cleared his throat, announcing their arrival.

“The Tesseract,” Loki interrupted with a glare, strutting towards them like the king he was born to become and despite his shackles, “belongs to me. It called out to me, it is mine.”

“You’ll find a lot of people in this facility who will disagree with you on that. Trust me. We’ll make sure you won’t get your hands on that cube again.” Dave snorted. “I hope you like your new lodging. Now come on, mischief maker. You’ve got a lot of work to do.”

~*~

A/N: And Scene! So what do you think, what do you think, what do you think? 🤯 I’m so excited to dive into this story! I literally recorded myself on my phone in the middle of the night a while back when all the ideas I had finally came together so I hope I’ll be taking you on an exciting journey with me!

Chapter 2

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dapandapod · 3 years

Text

Child of surprise

So my darling gremling @geogrewife were supposed to help me pick a Wip to work on but made me write this instead. Please enjoy! On Ao3 here

Warning: fluff. so much fluff. Like, fluffy fluff.

“Somethings wrong with Roach.” Geralt frowns at Jaskiers words. They have been staying in a cottage all winter, deep in the forest away from prying eyes. They found it when the first hint of gold appeared in the trees, and they decided that this is a good a place as any. It has been restful. No big bad monsters around, just the normal inhabitants. Roach has been away a lot, roaming the forest but always returning unharmed at nightfall. The cottage didn’t have a stable so they simply made a new door to the cottage, making a pen out of one of the corners. Geralt can be a handyman when it comes to the comforts of Roach and Jaskier relentlessly teases him about it. This is one of those nights they spend in peace, wind whistling among the trees and hard rain falling on the roof. “No?” Geralt protests, because he can see nothing wrong with her? And he is clearly the superior horseman out of the two. “Uh, yes? Geralt, I know I know very little of horses but something is clearly different? Can’t you tell?”

Geralt puts down his gwent cards and gets up from the wooden chair he sat on. Roach is ignoring him, munching on her hay in her corner, resting one hind leg as she does when she is relaxed. He walks up to her, hand on his chin and eyes squinting. He looks her over but sees nothing obvious, so he focuses, letting all other sounds fade away. Geralt rarely uses his witcher senses on her, but she smells like usual? He senses no wounds, no pain, nothing sticking out. Her fur is all shaggy now in wintertime, but that’s about it. “I can’t see anything.” Geralt mutters, returning to the table. “Did you look at my cards?” Jaskier scoffs. “I don’t need to look at your cards to win. Just. Let’s keep an eye on her?”

Time passes slowly. Winter is dark, and every day Roach wanders the woods. Geralt is out hunting for dinner but stumbles on her tracks among the trees. He is very far away, he wasn’t aware Roach made such long trips. He suspects Jaskier might be right. Something is off with Roach. She is getting slower, sometimes in the mornings her legs get a little swollen. Geralt massages her and tries to keep her warm and well fed but he will not be in the way when she wants out. But it’s probably time to see what she is up to. It seems like this stretch is well walked, many hoofprints covering the ground in both directions. Geralt follows her tracks and stops mid step when he notices where they lead. Up ahead is a clearing, a frozen creak glistening in the sunlight, snow heavy on the branches. It looks magical. On the other side of the clearing stands Roach. Only, she is not alone. Next to her stands a white horse. So white it almost can’t be seen against the snow. It has long white mane with grey streaks and the body is powerful. And it’s a unicorn. The horn is long, sharp. Dangerous. The unicorn could easily kill Roach with it. But it doesn’t. They are standing peacefully next to each other, her dark fuzzy fur a stark contrast. They use their muzzles to push away the snow to get to the grass underneath. Geralt barely dares to move, barely dares to breathe. As far as he knew there were no unicorns left. Obviously he was wrong, and it has taken a liking to his Roach. Geralt tries to back away quietly, stepping into his own footsteps, so that he doesn’t startle them. But the unicorn must sense him, his head shoots up and then runs away. Roach startles and looks around, but when she sees Geralt she relaxes. Well. “Hi girl.” He greets her. “Uh… sorry. I didn’t mean to startle your... friend?” Oh. Ooooh. That’s why she’s been away so much. That’s why there was more than one set of hoofprints. Probably. He wonders how long they have met out here in the woods, and he feels oddly protective of her. Roach makes no effort to walk up to him so he leaves her there in the clearing.

When he returns to Jaskier some time later, two winterbirds under his arm, he realizes Jaskier was right. He kicks his boots on the doorframe on the way in, ridding himself of most of the snow. “You were right.” He calls as a greeting, and Jaskier hits a sour note on his lute. “‘Scuse me?!” Jaskiers eyes are huge, startled. “Did you hit your head while hunting?!” Geralt chuckles and hangs up his outer clothes. “You were right about Roach. There is something up with her.” “OH! Yes, I told you so! You know what it is?” Geralt settles down to pluck the birds. “Yeah. She has met someone.” Jaskier picks up his playing again, plucking on the strings in a soft melody. “Oh really? Are there more horses in the woods? Or a nymph perhaps?” “Unicorn actually.” Again, Jaskier makes a sour note on the lute and Geralt cringes at the sound. “Sorry, but. Did you just say you saw a fucking unicorn?!?” Jaskier gapes, not believing a word he hears. “Yeah. It got scared of me though and ran away.” “THIS IS WHY I NEED TO COME WITH YOU GERALT!!!” Jaskier abruptly stands up from his chair, dragging a hand through his hair. “I MISSED A UNICORN!” Geralt smiles again, fingers still working on their upcoming dinner. “You will never let me out of your sight again, are you?” Geralt says fondly and Jaskier huffs. “You are absolutely right!” He plops back in the chair again but lets his lute hang from his hand and rests on the floor. “I can’t believe this.” “Don’t pout. I’ll bring you with me in a few days.”

And so he does. They let Roach get a headstart of a few hours, but it takes two months before they see it again. By then Roach has eaten through a third of their collected hay for the winter. Her legs are still swollen and her back seems to sink a little. Geralt is starting to suspect he knows what is wrong with her.

They follow her to the clearing, this time walking with her instead of sneaking behind. They see her go about her usual routine, scraping a hole in the stream to drink and them starting to push the snow around. It takes almost an hour before she raises her head and she whinnies towards the woods. There is a deep rumbling neigh in return. And there he is. He trots up to her, his neck curved and tail raised.

Because it is a he, Geralt realizes. A stallion. And there is nothing wrong with Roach. She is with foal.

Beside him Jaskier draws in a breath, mouth open with awe. It’s like a picture from a fairytale, the snow glistening, the world holding its breath. The unicorn nuzzles her thick fur, and they start scratching each other's backs. Next to him Geralt can hear Jaskier sniffle, and he is not far away from breaking a tear himself. The unicorn sees them, ignoring Roach buffing his side to continue, and stares. Geralt really, really hopes he won't attack. He is not sure he would be able to flee it, and that would mean fighting it. Luckily it seems to decide they are no threat and turns away. The two horses go back to inspecting the other and then walk off into the woods without a backwards glance. Jaskier and Geralt stay in the clearing for a while longer, breaths as clouds in front of them.

“Wow.” Jaskier finally manages, wiping at his eyes with his ungloved hands. “Too bad I can never sing about this.” he smiles, blinking up at the afternoon skies. Geralt sees the reasoning in that too. The moment rumors of a unicorn comes out there will be people hunting it. He takes Jaskiers freezing hands in his and leads them back towards the cottage.

When the first spring flowers peak through the snow Roach is heavy. It’s clear they won’t be going anywhere for a while. So they prepare to stay for even longer. Geralt leaves for two weeks, trekking towards the closest village. They need more supplies and food, and getting there by foot and back is going to take some time. To Jaskiers surprise (and Geralt's despair) he returns through a portal, Yennefer close behind. She stays for a few weeks, cooing at Roach like she never had before, lovingly petting her down and spoiling her absolutely rotten.

She comes back in the middle of summer. Because it’s time. During the night Roach is restless. She walks around outside the cottage, snorting and panting. Geralt, always the light sleeper wakes up and goes out to her. There is no need for her to sleep indoors during this time of year, and she leads him towards her clearing. It takes another hour for her to lay down, and by then both Jaskier and Yen found him by her side. Roaches sides are slick with sweat, and the small hoofs sticking out from her are just as brown as she is. Geralt wasn’t sure what to expect of this foal, if it would be white or brown. But it would seem that it’s brown. When the first early rays of sunshine filter through the leaves the foal, a little stallion, takes its first steps. His eyes are pale blue, his body a dark brown like his mother, and his mane a shade paler. There is no sign of a horn and Geralt can’t decide if he is relieved or disappointed.

They stay for some time longer, making sure Roach is alright before retreating back a bit. By now they have learned the unicorns habits a little better. Geralt and Jaskier double back to the cottage to bring some breakfast back. Jaskier squeeze his hand all the way there, and when they get inside the door Jaskier pulls Geralt close. He smiles at Geralt, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “Why do I feel like a proud parent?” He asks and Geralt chuckles. He couldn’t agree more.

Jaskier decides to name the foal Pegasus. The little thing is feisty, he nips after them even though he doesn’t have any teeth yet. He kicks and he bucks and he flies over the grass. His father didn’t come on the first day, nor the second. But when he comes there is a full show of sniffing and buffing. When Roach thinks he is too rough on Pegasus she steps between them, ears slicked back and teeth on display. She turns around and half heartedly kicks at the unicorn and Geralt swells with pride. When they calm down Pegasus tries to imitate his parents, doing his best with his short neck to bend down towards the grass. He can’t quite reach and stumbles. “I can stay here for hours.” Yen says softly, a soft smile on her lips. Geralt knows how she feels.

And they do. They stay for hours and hours to watch Pegasus and Roach, sometimes around the cottage and sometimes in the clearing. Still no horn in sight, just a small bump in the middle of his forehead. Pegasus seems to have taken a great liking to Jaskier. Whenever the bard sits in the grass, leaning back on the wooden wall with his lute, Pegasus scampers over to inspect. He pulls at his clothes, steals his expensive hat and tries to nibble at the lute.

They talk about what they should do. Yennefer comes and goes, unable to stay away from the little menace of a foal. She claims she wish to study him, if he got any magical abilities, but they all know better.

Perhaps they will make their way towards Kaer Morhen. The area isn’t perhaps the safest for a horse, but at least there won’t be any prying eyes in case Pegasus actually shows any abilities. Jaskier speaks of the coast again, and about Lettenhove. Traveling with a foal however is not the safest nor the most practical thing. But the summer is still young.

They have time.

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zeldaelmo · 3 years

Text

This is my contribution for the @behind-the-fic MFC contest! It's an old story (the first chapter, actually, but I figured it would work as a one-shot as well). I am working on something else, but I’m slow and the new story is very much out of my comfort zone, so who knows if I’m able to finish it to my satisfaction until 01.08.

I'm not fond of the idea of competition when it comes to my creative hobbies, so I don't want to win anything. I just like to be part of it because I was too shy to do the podcast as a non-native speaker.

But enough of me, you are here to get sad. 😉

tw: Link is an orphan in this one and the loss of his parents is mentioned as a backstory. Nothing horrible, but I want you to be aware.

Well. And warning for horrible proposals. 😆

Oh, and this story was inspired by a scene of @spacebeyonce Halloween fic ‘draw me like a magnet (to the sea)’ !

A fool such as I

He knew he was a fool when his eyes scanned the passing sidewalk for a woman with blonde hair from the passenger's seat of Pipit’s car.

He knew he was a fool when they entered the charity gala, and he couldn’t stop himself from looking for a pair of blue eyes.

He knew he was a fool when a bell-like laugh made him turn around to find out if it was her.

It was not.

It was never her.

“Link,” Pipit nudged him in the side, rolling his eyes at him, “you are doing it again. Get yourself something to drink and enjoy the evening, for Hylia’s sake! I didn’t drag you here to look for your imaginary girlfriend!”

Sighing in defeat, Link grabbed a glass from the tray of one of the waiters, not caring at all what fancy drink he might have gotten himself. Old habits die hard – the point wasn’t that Link didn’t know Pipit was right. It was just... he sipped his drink to distract himself and the bitter-sweet taste of the bright orange aperitif rolled on his tongue.

This wasn’t the first time they'd had this conversation and if Link was honest with himself, it wouldn’t be the last, either. He knew that looking for her was like looking for a needle in a haystack. His heart, however, knew not. Every time he convinced himself to give up, every time he tried to move on, his pulse thrummed against that faded scar on his palm, and he did it again.

Like a fool.

He had been eight when he first met her.

It had been his mother’s last summer alive. She had been suffering from a mysterious lung disease the doctors couldn’t explain and couldn’t heal. They had sent the whole family to Skyloft, a famous climatic spa, in a last, desperate attempt to save her life. His parents hadn’t told him how severe his mother’s condition was, perhaps to spare him or perhaps to spare themselves from the truth. They just spoke about a long vacation with him, an opportunity for him to meet new friends and to stray over the little island on his own. He had loved the idea immediately.

The girl arrived three days after him, her cheeks lacking color, her hair coiffed in two neat braids, and her proper cotton dress dancing around her knees. She was without her parents, just with her nanny – a stern-looking woman named Impa. The curious child that he was, he asked her in the following days why her parents didn’t accompany her. She shrugged and said, they were extremely busy and their jobs couldn’t afford a summer break and that was that. To him, it didn’t matter anyway, because sneaking her out was much easier this way – Impa never caught them.

The physician had diagnosed her with general weakness and a susceptibility to illness and therefore she'd been sent to Skyloft. Link couldn’t detect anything ‘ill’ on her. Her face lit up every time she saw him in the eating room and after she winked at him over the huge bowl of pumpkin soup, he followed her in a safe distance to her room on his tiptoes. Impa, whose room was on the opposite, frightened him, so he didn’t dare to knock in case she would hear him. Instead, he bolted out of the back door and threw little pebbles on her window to get her attention. She opened the window with a wide smile, and he knew immediately that he had never seen anything so beautiful in his life.

The days flew by after that.

They met at the Goddess statue whenever she had free time between her treatments, and she sneaked out every evening to sit with him at the little pond. Her cheeks began to grow rosier from day to day and soon her blue eyes sparkled in the summer sun.

She hadn’t been ill – she had been lonely.

He taught her how to catch bugs and butterflies with a butterfly net, and she taught him their correct names. They read stories from the books of the little library, she more often than him because she was already a fluent reader while he was a beginner. Later in the summer, he even showed her how to swim and when she was too frustrated with her lack of stamina, they ended up in a giant water fight until their giggles made their faces and stomachs hurt. They raced over the island together, always hand in hand, stealing apples at the market and hiding sky stag beetles under seat cushions to watch the poor owner of the cushion being pinched from their hiding place. ‘Oh, will you look at these cuties!’, the adults exclaimed when they saw them, or, ‘Ah, to be young and in love again!’ and they both blushed in the warm summer sun.

One afternoon, after they got a large piece of pumpkin pie from one of the farmers for helping to harvest the earlier pumpkins, she even kissed him. ‘You have pumpkin on your lips, Link,” she whispered, and then she pressed her lips to his and he was sure that he would burst into tiny pieces any moment out of sheer happiness.

Like every summer, this summer too, had to end. She sneaked out of her room for the last time to meet him at their favorite place. They sat closer together as usual, both searching for comfort in the other, instinctively unwilling to separate from each other. Their hearts heavy, not many words were spoken, at least for eight-year-old standards. When the light of the sun turned slowly in a glowing shade of orange, she took his hand and turned his palm upward, stroking a line over it with her index finger.

“Do you have your carving knife with you?” She spoke under her breath, “I want to take an oath.” He had and so he traced the stinging, bloody cut in his palm when he watched her part with Impa the following morning, swearing to himself that he would do anything he could to keep his part of the promise.

They would see each other again, no matter what.

And if that made him a fool, so be it.

“Earth at Link, earth at Link, we need you down here!” Pipit waved a piece of paper in front of his face. His friend had been busy filling out the symbolic check for their donation and was obviously expecting his input. Link blinked at him. “How much do we usually give? 3000 rupees?” he asked, trying to cover his slip into the daydream before his friend would shoot him another remark. Fortunately, Pipit was used to his aversion to numbers in general and didn’t grow suspicious. Pipit was the book-keeper and planner of their little security firm, while Link stuck to the operating tasks like installing an alarm device or overlooking a festivity in addition to the regular stuff of another rich family. His job description was a mixture between bodyguard and engineer, but usually, he liked to be on the road and working with Pipit was a huge pro as well.

His friend nodded in agreement to his question and tapped the pen at his lips. “Well, write 3500. I’ll cover the rest.”

Pipit blew a whistle. “What’s up, Link? Feeling generous tonight?”

“It’s for an orphanage this year, Pipit,” he sighed. “There are too many kids who don’t have the same luck I had back then.”

And that was true. Life didn’t give him much opportunity to think of his promise at first. His mother died only weeks after their return from Skyloft and his father followed her half a year later. A broken heart, the doctor said with thin lips when he squeezed his shoulder. He ended up in an orphanage for a few months but was lucky enough to find a family who was willing to adopt him. It was very unusual that a child of his age found a family at all. His adoptive parents said that they loved his messy hair and his honest smile from the very first second, and no matter how ridiculous that sounded to him, he was immensely thankful. Of course, it took some time to grow to love each other, but they managed somehow, and he didn’t feel so lost anymore – at least regarding his family.

A year after he had left Skyloft, his life had changed dramatically, but he hadn’t forgotten his friend at all. Dreaming of her smile warmed him inside when the grief shook him to the core and thinking of her hand in his, anchored him when he was on the verge of drifting off. His new family knew nothing about her and although they shared a robust trust after a while, he was hesitant to share this treasured piece of his old life with them.

Instead, he secretly started to look for her whenever they were in new places. Stood on staircases to get a better look over a crowd. Glanced at all the other tables when they were eating in a restaurant. Stayed near the door of a bus to observe if she might be one of the people who hopped on or off the vehicle.

She was never among them.

As a teenager, he gathered his courage and made a serious attempt to find her. He had little to start - they hadn’t thought of exchanging addresses or even last names. The horizon of eight-year-old children only extends so far. So, the administration of the health resort in Skyloft was his first shot. The files of the patients were only stored for five years, and they wouldn’t give him further information anyway unless he was related to her. He scrolled through the homepage of the staff next and contacted the few faces he recognized, stumbling through his lines on the phone. Nobody remembered a blonde girl with her name.

The last hint to her was Impa. He tried to find her instead, hoping an adult would leave more traces behind than a girl would, but the internet was dead silent about a nanny named Impa. It was hopeless. He was stuck looking for her everywhere he went.

Pipit coughed in his fist beside him and nodded in the direction of a brunette a few steps in front of them, hissing, “Babe alert!”

“You are married, Pipit.” Link rolled his eyes at his friend. “Karane won’t be lucky over the fact that you are pining after other women.”

“I’m talking about you, you moron. Or are you still dating Peatrice?”

Link groaned and waved his hands. “Don’t get me started on that girl. She was so clingy, horrible.”

He had tried to like her, really. She had begged him for a date, and he had given in. They had done all this dating stuff, watching films in the cinema, dining in a restaurant, even holding hands on a walk in the park. It had always been the same, after two hours more or less, he hadn’t been able to stand her anymore. The mindless chit chat, the exaggerated admiration for him, the false lashes, everything about her had put him on edge.

Like a clockwork, his scar had begun to itch, and he had fled from her presence.

“She wasn’t her.” Pipit narrowed his eyes at him. “That’s why. Because you are still chasing rainbows. Link, man up and move on!”

“She was clin-” Link stopped.

Looked again.

Took a few steps forward.

“Link?” He heard Pipit asking somewhere behind him, but he was already on his way.

Could it be? His pace quickened when the people in front of him revealed a glimpse of blonde hair once again. The beat of his heart drummed through his veins, all the way down to his fingertips and his toes, too loud, too fast, and he tried assertively to push it back into his rib cage.

He had been wrong before.

He was most likely wrong again, the people and the yards between them made it difficult to be sure. Her calf-length evening dress was pink, yes, but who knew if it was still her favorite color? She had been eight.

When she turned and his desperate eyes slid over the curve of her nose, her lashes, her powdered cheeks, a stubborn thing called hope expended in this chest. The bright, powerful hope like the sun after a summer storm, not the simmering, obstinately hope like a smoldering fire which had accompanied him for so long now.

She was talking to someone, an elegant gentleman with long white hair, and her face lit up just in time when he was near enough to confirm that her eyes were blue. And then she smiled, a polite, practiced smile only, not even reaching her eyes, but it was proof enough to let his heart skip for far too long as it should be medically explainable.

He had found her.

Hylia above, after all these years, he had truly, finally found her! Tiny, shaky breaths left him, in and out, which did nothing to calm his nerves, and he took her in again, just to be sure. She looked different, of course, but her eyes had still the slightest trace of sadness that they had when he had seen her for the first time. Her features had grown out of the roundness of a child and her cheeks were rouged to hide the lack of color again.

It had to be her – his heart beat nothing but her name through his veins. He had nearly caught up to her now and raising his trembling hand, he called, “Zelda!” Her head snapped up and his chest expanded nearly painfully from joy – it was her. It was her! But before their eyes could meet, a security guard in a black suit tapped her shoulder and led her away.

No!

Someone on the stage announced the charity entry of the princess, but he didn’t pay anything around him mind, nearly batted the unpleasant noise away with his hands. Setting his shoulders once more and squeezing through the people, he tried to follow the way she had left. He would not lose her again, now that he had finally found her. Never again!

The stage and the backstage area were closed off with thick red ropes, a bodyguard with a stern face on each side of the stage, who already eyed him when he gave the rope a frustrated slap. He couldn’t look for her here.

Fretfully, he turned around only to realize that he was trapped. Every single attendant of the charity Gala had gathered around the stage and it was pointless to try to get through these people, let alone find her again. Rolling his eyes, he braced himself for the next minutes of what would probably be a boring charity speech from the princess while he was dying to be on his way to find Zelda once again.

He had never been particularly interested in the royal family – he wasn’t even sure if he would recognize one of them beside the King on the street. The King was the figurehead of the parliamentary monarchy and gained the main interest of the journalists and the people, while the rest of the royal family lived a relatively secluded life. Every now and then one of the members would participate in a charity event much like today.

Sure, there was some kind of gossip press, too, but Link had always believed himself having more important things to do than following ‘reports’ of people he would never see in real life anyway. In the past, he had watched the New Year's speech of the King on television every year with his adoptive family, and he still did sometimes now he lived alone to keep the tradition up. Therefore, in all honesty, his curiosity about seeing the Princess wasn’t as great as it seemed to be the case with the people around him, but now that he was standing in the first row, he might as well take a look at her.

The moment he turned around was the moment he realized he hadn’t been only a fool.

He had been the greatest fool of all.

Zelda.

Zelda was the Princess of Hyrule.

His heart dropped in his stomach, no to the floor. Suddenly, everything made sense. Impa hadn’t been a stern nanny; she had been a bodyguard. Her parents hadn’t been able to accompany her because they were the King and the Queen. Of course, she had been pale and lonely and well educated, because she had spent so much time on becoming a perfect princess as a child. Nobody remembered a blonde girl because they all only recalled the one summer the Princess was in Skyloft. He had never seen her on the bus because she had her own chauffeur.

His knees nearly gave out under him, the edge of his vision blurring, when he tried to process the new information. Zelda was the Princess. That changed everything. Or did it change nothing at all? How was he supposed to think straight with that soundscape here?

He quashed the urge to block his ears from the horrible sappy violin music, his eyes returning to her instinctively, searching hers in vain. She was so sweet and beautiful and familiar; he couldn’t tear his gaze away. Oh, how he had missed her!

So, what if she was the Princess? He wouldn’t let something like that get in their way. A promise was a promise was a promise. He just had to talk to her somehow when she left the stage – then they would pick up their friendship. Perhaps, if they still clicked like all these years ago, he even dared to hope for more.

The piece of music the fiddlers were playing reached an even more sappy height and a guy with an odd, red pompadour he hadn’t noticed before stepped up to Zelda. He nestled with something in his pocket before he dropped down to one knee. Link’s eyes widened in horror, his body frozen in place. No… No, stop it! Not now, when he had finally found her! An icy fist gripped his heart and refused to let go. This had to be a cruel joke of destiny.

One long, wonderful moment she said nothing, and he dared to hope that – yes, what? That she looked over, realized her undying love for him, so they could ride into the sunset on his non-existing horse?

He fled when she nodded and the idiot raised again, not hesitating to kiss her. The people in front of him barely parted, and he stumbled, tripped until he found himself breaking down on the grated steps of the emergency exit. The cold of the autumn evening crawled under his skin. Or maybe it was the cold sting of realization. If he had found her ten minutes earlier, a week earlier, a year earlier, he might have stood a chance. Now, every moment he had looked for her had been in vain, her fiancé didn’t look at all like the type who would tolerate a rival, even if they would just be friends.

What a fool he had been!

He pressed his palms to his eyes, casting the world out. Who was he kidding, she was the Princess. Princesses didn’t stick with orphaned country-boys running a little two-person-operation, which made barely enough to donate a little sum every year. Princesses married rich company heirs, fancy musicians, or whatever this guy was.

He wasn’t sure how long he sat with his face buried in his hands, hot tears dwelling at the corner of his eyes, unwilling to shed, when he heard the metallic click of the door. It could have been minutes. Or hours – and now Pipit had finally found him. It was time to move on anyway for him.

A delicate hand stroked his back once, twice, before it withdrew.

“A break-up?” A soft voice asked and when he raised his head, the tears finally fell.

Rainbows.

He had been chasing rainbows – she didn’t even recognize him when he was directly in front of her.

It took him two attempts to get the words through the stinging lump in his throat. “Kind of,” he finally choked out, torturing himself by looking at her face from so close.

She smiled that polite, meaningless smile, saying, “You’ll find someone else, eventually.”

“I guess I have to,” he whispered and tore his gaze away, his heart shattering into a million pieces. The silence hung between them like the moon between the stars, and he waited and hoped and hated himself more for it with every passing second.

Finally, she sighed and rubbed her arms. “I’m sure it’s a beautiful night somewhere, for someone.”

He didn’t dare to look in her eyes again when he unwound his white-blue shawl and placed it on her shoulders. Denied himself to let his fingertips linger. To enclose her in his arms to shield her from the cold. From the world that forced her to paint her pale cheeks with rouge.

“Thank you,” she breathed, quiet, earnest.

He looked at the moon again, taking his time to breathe in and breathe out, failing to prepare himself for a goodbye he had dreamed of as a beginning. A goodbye, he had never meant to say.

“Congratulations on your engagement.”

She looked at the rock on her finger, fidgeting the underside of the ring with her thumb. “Ah, yes, that. Thank you.”

Despite himself, he took her hands in his and pressed a kiss on her knuckles, his fingers brushing her scar and hers brushing his for a terrible, perfect moment before he left.

“Goodnight, Zelda.” His voice was as quiet as his heart was loud.

The emergency door fell shut after him with a heavy thud and the crowd of the gala swallowed him without hesitation.

She really should look happier, but it wasn’t his concern anymore.

Perhaps it never had been.

Psss... if you are like me and can’t stand a sad ending, check out the rest of the story here.

#zelink #a fool such as I #zeldaelmo writes #modern au #behind the fic

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