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pascalpanic · 3 years

Note

request please? lately i have been having a lot abandonment anxiety when it comes to friendships and i was wondering how you think javi or din might help someone with an anxious attachment style? thank you lovely 🥰

Irrational (Din Djarin x f!Reader)

Summary: above ^^

W/C: 2.8k

Warnings: language; talk of fighting and weapons, reader has a panic attack PLEASE be aware that it’s coming and somewhat descriptive.

A/N: I really really love this! I hope you guys do too :) as always, thanks to my beta reading babes!

Din Djarin has been abandoned before. Often on a mission, sometimes on a lone planet with no credits or ways out. He always survives, of course, and vengeance is taken. One thing he absolutely can’t fathom is abandoning someone he loves, or more specifically someone who loves him.

Abandonment isn’t an issue when you’ve never had someone to be attached to. Din spent many many years with absolutely no one. When his parents died, it felt like he was abandoned, sure, but it was clearly not their decision to leave him. When he was taken in by the Mandalorians, they kept him at an arm’s length. He was a foundling; they cared for him well, taught him The Way and The Creed, fed him well. But he was never adopted into a specific clan, rather passed around the covert like the communal task each family had an obligation to fulfill.

Then he became a bounty hunter. The life was solitary and lonely, cold and bleak. It was rare that Din would team up with other bounty hunters, really only when forced to. The Razor Crest became his baby, his only possession and love besides his blasters and beskar. The thing was a piece of bantha shit, but he kept it in good shape.

Then came the kid. Din knew it was wrong. Bounties are to be turned in and paid for, then you forget the job happened. But when that little green thing stared up at Din, the big brown eyes seeming to stare through the dark black of his visor, he knew he couldn’t. This was a child, a baby with no family and no way to protect itself. He certainly couldn’t turn it over to the hands of the ex-Imperials.

Din experienced his first real attachment with the child. He cares for that little thing more than he’s ever cared about anything. He’d cross galaxies, kill and maim and injure for the sake of the little green baby.

Oh Maker, then he met you.

Din had never seen anything like you. You were playing with the kids in the marketplace, laughing as they ran and played around you, before you squealed in delight at the sight of a little green toddler wandering up to you. He’d climbed in your lap, looked up at you with those big eyes, massive ears twitching. You’d stroked his head and cooed to him before you looked up to find his father; subsequently, you felt your heart fall into your stomach at the sight of the Mandalorian man.

“You’re good with kids.”

Well no shit. You nodded. “Yes. I love them. Is this your son?” you ask, looking back down at the three green fingers wrapped around your thumb.

He nods. “He is a foundling under my care.” He watched as the baby grabbed at the golden armband encircling your bicep. You’re absolutely gorgeous. The armband glows against your skin, your beautiful body evident even through the loose and flowing clothing you wear. “Do you take care of these children as a job?”

You shook your head. “No. We don’t have jobs here, necessarily. They just wanted me to play.” You scanned the man, searching for skin. You found none. “Are you green under there too?”

The Mandalorian did not answer. “I’m looking for a caretaker for the child while I hunt bounties. You’d stay in my ship and care for him. I pay well and you’d get to travel the galaxy.”

“You barely know me,” you laughed, removing the little green baby’s fingers from their tight grip on the gold band on your arm.

He gave a half shrug. “He likes you.”

And you’d agreed. And it’s been almost a full cycle now, a cycle of living in the beat-up ship and caring for the little green baby. You’ve seen the most beautiful and the ugliest of planets, experienced extreme heat and extreme cold. You’ve been to beautiful cities, unique jungles and forests and ice planets.

In that time, you got to know the Mandalorian too. It took quite some time to crack his beskar shell. He hardly talked to you in the first month. Then your persistence had loosened him a little, then a little more, then just enough. You know more of him than any other living being does. He’s told you his name: Din Djarin, a name that flows and stops and radiates the power of the bounty hunter. He told you the story of his childhood, of hunts gone wrong and hunts gone right.

You love listening as he tells you and the child the story of the child’s rescue from the ex-Imperials. The baby snuggles against your lap as his father regales the two of you with the epic battles, the fights Din went through for this little child. You both applaud at the end, and put the baby to bed with a kiss between those big brown eyes.

He’s a wonderful man. You’ve formed an easy friendship with him, one that has honestly progressed on your end. At night, you find yourself fantasizing about what he looks like beneath his armor, how the muscles of his broad shoulders move when he climbs the ladder to the cockpit or lifts the child. You like to think he may feel the same for you, but you don’t push it. You don’t want to push him away.

Din has been away for far too long. He always highballs the dates he gives you, saying that an assignment will take three days when he knows it will only take two or a week when it will only be five days. This is a pattern you’ve come to notice; Din is alway back “early”, but now he is late. Really late.

Before he left, Din had opened your bunk compartment, causing you to groan at the light filtering in. You’ve been sleeping since the Crest made a rocky landing on Nevarro a few hours earlier. “Cyare,” he’d murmured, a rare ungloved hand warm on your bare arm, contact broken by your metal armband. You don’t know what the word means. You hope it’s something good.

“What is it?” You groaned, rolling onto your back to look at him. “Leaving?”

He nodded, the silhouette of his helmet-covered head against the soft light of the hull. “Leaving. I’ll be back in four days at the most.”

You offered him a sleepy smile, one that he could see in the warm glow of the lights you’d installed in the ship to navigate easier at night. “Good luck. May the Force be with you,” you teased, making the normally stoic man chuckle a little.

“Go back to sleep. I’ll see you soon.”

You didn’t protest, rolling over and letting the heaviness of sleep drag you back under.

Now, you really wish you’d have talked with him more then. You’re almost certain you’ll never see him again.

You’re not exactly sure what it was in your brain that triggered the thought. Maybe Din just actually took the amount of time he’d said for once, you thought on the fourth day. But now it’s been eight days, double the amount that he’d told you he’d be gone, and you’re stressed.

He always makes good on his word. He should be back by now. He always does. Did he get injured or killed, maybe captured by the bounty he was stalking? You ponder your ideas aloud as you pace back and forth in the hull of the Razor Crest, the little green baby tucked in his soundproof pram to sleep.

There’s likely a rational explanation. You’re sure there is. Maybe the bounty jumped ship, completely threw Din off of his tracks. Maybe the bounty is more clever than anticipated and Din is working extra just to find them. There’s surely a reason, but a little nagging voice in your head says that something is wrong.

In the first few days following Din’s date to return, your primary worry is that he’s hurt or dead somewhere on this barren planet. There are many other bounty hunters here, in this haven for Guild workers. What if one of them discovered Din still has the baby? What if they were coming for you here next?

Maybe you should go look for him. Maybe he’s injured and needs your help. He could be held by another hunter, or by the ex-Imperials- you can’t even bear to think of them harming Din for taking their precious cargo back. The thought makes you squeeze the little green baby tighter to your chest, even after he gives a whine of annoyance at the pressure.

But Din would never forgive you if you put yourself in harm’s way for him. This planet is dangerous, full of bad people who will do what it takes to get their credits. Most importantly, you can’t leave this ship with the kid. Certainly people here are looking for him. Someone would spot him and you’d be in for disaster. The anxiety fills your days and even seeps into your dreams, making you sleep less and more fitfully. On the eighth day, perhaps the most terrifying idea strikes you: what if Din just... left you?

Of course, there are plenty of signs why he hasn’t. The ship is one of his rare material possessions. He’d never give up the machine that’s been a home to him for the last however many years. Weapons are part of his religion, and he only took a sparse amount with him for this hunt. His prized pulse rifle still hangs in his armory, with an abundance of whistling birds he didn’t take either.

Most importantly, you’re still here with the kid. The baby is practically Din’s son. He adores him… but what if it’s all too much? You’ve become like a little family. That may be too domestic for him. Maybe he’s sick of the responsibility, of caring for two beings when so much of his life has been solitary. Even worse, maybe he’s just sick of you.

There are plenty of rational explanations. You know it. The baby can sense your anxiety, can feel the tension running through the air surrounding you, and he feels it too. He’s fussy, requiring more snacks and more attention. He tugs far too much on your armband and it pinches now, his little claws getting too long. You don’t mind- it’s a distraction, really- but your mind is never fully on feeding the baby, rather hyper analyzing Din’s mind as you know it and hoping he’ll return.

The hours pass. Din doesn’t return. You become more and more certain that he’s abandoned you for good. He isn’t coming back, ever, because he hates you. He was nice to you as a courtesy, nothing more, only as a protector of his child. This type of family is too much for the lone-wolf style man. He can’t do it anymore. You’re on your own.

In your head, the thought of him abandoning you is too much. It weighs heavily on your self-esteem, convincing you that this is all your fault and you’ve done too much, or not enough, or something wrong in general that sent Din packing and gone. He did it because you’re annoying, because he’s sick of you.

Rational thoughts are pushed to the furthest corner of your mind. Your brain is occupied by self hatred, by terror, by a sickening buzzing feeling in your head and chest that feels like a parasite eating you from the inside out.

It’s too much. You fall to the floor, sliding your back down the metal wall. Your rear contacts the floor as the tears fall from your face, your emotions drowning out your senses. You can’t use any of your senses, just think and process the agony your brain is putting you through.

Burying your face in your hands, you finally allow the tears you’ve been holding in all week to flow. It’s a relief, the hot tears streaming down your equally hot face, blood rushing to the surface. The anxiety buzzing in your head has reached a breaking point; you’re sure the tension is boiling your brains, making it bubble and roil as the thoughts pull you down and down so far you feel you’ve fallen through the floor of the Crest and into the dry Nevarro dirt.

You nearly wail, wheezing in air only to expel it in harsh sobs as the fear wraps your body and constricts it. You’re enveloped by it, trapped in a coffin mixed with a tornado mixed with a firestorm and a hurricane.

Then it all stops. The heat is broken by something cold- beskar. You force your eyes to see and they finally perceive that Din is in front of you. Then you feel again, feel the chilled metal all over your skin as he wraps his arms around you. You smell him, his faded soap from whenever he bathed last, his sweat and the smell of the Nevarro dust. You can taste your salty tears. The last sense to come back puts you most at ease: his voice. “Talk to me, please,” Din asks of you.

You nod and try to speak, but you’re still gasping for air, your lungs unable to fill. When you slow down and make yourself breathe, you’re finally able to manage words. “Thought you were gone forever. Thought you left because of me.”

The beskar helmet tilts to the side, taking you in. You’re sure you’re a mess; eyes bloodshot, face tearstained, snot probably all over you as well. Din’s quiet for a moment. “Why would you think that?”

“You said four days. You always come back early, but you were gone for eight days.”

His chest rises and falls slowly beneath the beskar plate. “I know. I’m sorry. But why would you think I’d leave you?”

The tears return. “I don’t know, Din, I-”

“No, shh,” Din murmurs and wipes your face. “No more tears. I’m here.”

Din stands and takes you with him, his arms wrapped tight around your body to bring you to your feet. He walks you to the edge of the bunk and hands you a canteen of water to drink. You look at him and he looks back. There’s a silence and an unspoken battle between the two of you over who will break it.

Din breaks first. “I got the bounty easily. I was late because of… something else.”

Your face falls into a frown. “You took double the amount of time and didn’t tell me? Whatever this ‘something else’ is, it better be worth it.”

Din breathes in and out deeply before producing a soft fabric bag. “I didn’t leave you. I’m back. And… I got you something to show that I’ll never leave you.”

From the bag, his leather-covered hand produces something silver. Your eyes, blurry with tears, take a moment to perceive it: an armband of some silver material- oh, it’s beskar. It’s cold to the touch but you take it from him to admire it and find it is emblazoned with an insignia: a mudhorn. “The symbol of Clan Djarin,” he says gently, though he’s sure you know. It’s on his pauldron. It’s on the baby’s necklace. “We… are a family, aren’t we?”

You don’t respond; rather, you throw your arms around his neck and the tears return, but happily. “We are,” you whimper, your throat constricted by a sob. You cry into his neck, staining the fabric of his cowl and cape with your tears.

He understands they’re good tears, and so he lets them flow. His arms wrap around you and rest on your back, gently rubbing it as you cry into him. As the sobs calm, the tears end, you remain in his arms. Din holds you tight against his chest. “I’ve never made a better decision than hiring you. It was supposed to just be a babysitting job, but… I fell in love.”

Your heart stops and you pull back. “You’re in love? With me?”

Din nods. “I… yes. I am.”

A smile crosses your face, the joy emphasized by how wide your smile is in the presence of your tears. “I love you too,” you manage before your throat squeezes off your words, making you cry happily and hug him yet again.

With your face buried in his neck, you nuzzle your face in and are rewarded with a soft patch of stubbled skin beneath the tip of your nose. You can feel his throat vibrate when he speaks again. “We are a clan of three now. I promise you, I will never leave you. Don’t even entertain the thought again. Understand?”

You nod, not wanting to move your face and lose contact with this intimate spot of him, the first humanness you’ve been able to get beneath the beskar. You kiss the skin there softly. Din knows it’s your answer: understood. I love you.

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allywritesforfun · 3 years

Note

Uhhh, a part 2 of the AweSamDude story. I don't know, maybe the court case would be cool! If requests arent open, then ignore them

um yes! I have wanted to make a part 2 for so long but had no clue where to start and this just makes perfect sense!

{Locked Up Heart pt 2} irl!warden!awesamdude x Reader

pronouns: were originally not mentioned, but now are she/they

word count: 2987

trigger warnings: mention/talk of rape and murder, court cases, somewhat angsty

a/n: the law I mentioned is a real law but I can't remember what the law is actually called so roll with it

part one

masterlist

You stared at yourself in the body mirror. You haven't seen yourself look like this in years. All dressed up and ready to impress. You wore a gorgeous black suit with a purple inside along with sleek black pants. You looked into the body mirror, admiring yourself.

Sam let you live with him “until you could find your own place” but neither of you had intentions of leaving. You looked at apartments once online, but you knew with this on your record that you were going nowhere but some run down ghetto, and Sam knew that too.

He knew that you would be able to take care of yourself there, he wasn't scared for your safety or any of that. He was scared that you wouldn't be able to support yourself. Finding a job was hard, all that there was these days for someone like you was online surveys that were not reliable.

Staying with Sam was the best of the both of you. He has been without a roommate for years now. He felt less alone with you being there. The first couple nights were awkward. You slept on the pull out couch and didn't have much clothes. You felt terrible about the amount of washes you did, but eventually you started to get more comfortable with Sam.

The first sign of progression was when he offered you his sweatshirt instead of a blanket. It was a sweet gesture, you gladly took it. Later that night instead of returning it, you cuddled it to sleep. Now, its your version of a teddy bear. Nice and warm and flourished with Sam’s scent.

You only started sleeping in his bed with him a week ago. It was a purposeful accident. He offered to watch tv in his room since you two deep cleaned the couch. You've planned on falling asleep on him, but you didn't plan for it to be that day.

It was the best feeling in the world: waking up to being wrapped around and held tight and safe. You must've laid there when you woke up for an hour before Sam got up. You pretended to be asleep so that you could play the innocent girl card. It worked.

You felt a pair of large hands caress your waist. You jumped and had a little fear-induced hiccup.

“Sorry!” Sam took his hands off and backed away. “I’m still getting used to sensitive areas.”

You two have been working on okay areas to touch. You taught yourself to be extra alert while in the prison and certain touches trigger your reflexes and others cause panic, like hips.

Because of your high murder count, you were sent to the normal prison, the non-all woman prison. It wasn't the worst in the world. You only saw males during eating times, but it was common to get grabbed like that. It happened to every single female, every eating hour. The guards did nothing about it, not that they really could.

Sam has seen it before, not you, but to other women. He had an idea of areas to stay away from, but he is such an affectionate guy and sometimes he forgets.

“You’re okay, Sam. The more you do it, the more comfortable I’ll get with it,” You explained.

Sam was so good to you. He’s helped you through it all. Everything that you needed to heal, he gave to you.

“Well then maybe after the trial we can get some practice in...” He swooned.

You chuckled, “If we win. There’s a chance I won't come back here tonight. I’m lucky enough that they gave me stay at home orders in the meantime.”

He nodded, “We’re gonna win.” He kissed your cheek, “How could anyone that looks as scrumptious as you right now lose? There is no way. We have the evidence, and we have your perfect prison record. Not a single misdemeanor! They might not drop all chargers but you’re coming home tonight.”

“Home?” You questioned.

You've avoided that word for the longest time. You always said ‘the house’ or ‘your place’. Not because you didn’t want this to be your home, not the exact opposite. You wanted this to be forever home, but you never wanted to overstay your welcome.

“Yes home,” Sam laughed. “Why wouldn’t this be home... you feel safe here don’t you?”

“I do!” You exclaimed, waving your hands back and forth in denial. “I just didn't realize you wanted this to be my home.”

Sam offered his hand out to you; you gladly took it. His soft hand gently squeezed yours as he pulled you slowly into him, embracing you, “Of course I want this to be your home. I couldn't imagine anywhere else I would want you to be. This never felt like home to me, until you came home with me.”

You breathed in his scent, instantly relaxing into him, “I like it here. A lot.”

He pressed his lips to your forehead, “Now have that same attitude in court, we got to go.”

The court room was filled, more than you expected. You looked around, not recognizing a single face except for a few prison guards who were testifying on both sides. You noticed the media set it up in the back. Your story hit the news faster than expected. You did have a great story: warden falls in love with murder.

“Hands out,” The officer directed.

You obliged. You opposed no threat to anyone and no intentions too, but if putting you in handcuffs made them feel better, then handcuffs it was. You looked back at Sam as the cold metal locked around your wrists. He replied with a frown, which quickly turned into an encouraging smile.

His bipolarness was the vibe right now. You noticed people having a hard time deciding where to sit. There were a lot of people on both sides, but no family members of yours. You gave up on them a long time ago when you noticed they weren’t writing letters and ignoring your calls.

You didn't need them, all you needed was Sam. You have everything you want right now, except for freedom.

“All rise!”

You stood up from the wooden bench. The judge walked in wearing the classic black gown and had a book in his hands. He nodded at a few of his guards before taking a seat. He opened up his book and looked around the room, landing on you.

“Good afternoon everyone, and there are a lot of you,” His voice was so deep that it bounced against the walls, making an eerie echo. “Calling the case of State Prison vs y/n. Are both sides ready?”

The representative of the prison and your lawyer both replied with a yes. The jury then stood and raised their right hand and made their oath, returning to the bench.

The representative stood up and gave their opening statement: “Ladies and gentleman of the court, Your Honor, the Jury. You will find that the defendant has been charged with four accounts of murder and convicted by confession. The defendant has taken accountability for all the murders committed and has given detail about how she killed those four men. It is ridiculous that we are here in court today deciding if we can release a serial killer back into the public. With a strong motive to kill, there is no reason why the defendant should be let back into the public eye.”

Serial killer. That is what you are. No one has ever said it that way, but he was absolutely right. You fit the definition perfectly, you had a type and more than three victims. It already wasn't looking good for you.

Your lawyer took center stage, “A martyr is the perfect word to describe the defendant. They have given their life to the state to save the lives of many to come. The strength that my client displays and ownership prove that although they are guilty of the crimes, they are still human and deserve a second chance.”

The judge called you to take the stand. You sat down after taking your oath and folded your hands neatly in your lap.

“Miss l/n,” He started. “Today you are trying to get your case dismissed after confessing to your crimes. That is very interesting. Let’s go back to before the crimes were committed, what were you thinking, what were you doing in your life at the time?”

You shook your head, “Many years ago I was an activist. I enjoyed speaking to the public about issues facing the community and the world at the time. If I wasn't outside with a sign, I was inside posting on social media. I was in college, I was studying Political Science.”

“And what were you planning on doing with the major?”

You paused. It’s been so long that you had a hard time remembering why you wanted to study and what career you wanted, “I was planning on becoming a political journalist, Your Honor.”

He shuffled around his papers, “I’ve looked at your latest credit that you were working on. It was a Sociology class. Do you remember what topic you were discussing in class?”

You nodded, “Rape. The number of rapes in a year and the number of rapists convicted was the last assignment I was working on.”

You remember that assignment like it was yesterday. That one assignment got you so worked up and so mad at the world, that you just had to do something. There was no way that you couldn't. Women’s voices were being ignored and cases rose every day; repeat offenders increased everyday.

“Now to my understanding all the men that you murdered were accused of rape.”

You nodded, “Yes, Your Honor.”

“The attorney may ask questions to Miss l/n.”

The attorney stood up and adjusted your jacket, “Miss l/n, did any of those men physically harm you?”

You shook your head, “No.”

“So you took advantage of the fact that you were young to persuade the men into being alone with you just to kill them?”

You shook your head, “No, I didn’t persuade them at all. All of them suggested going back to their place.”

“But you did stalk them to find out where they were going?”

“No,” You answered. “They had their location public on their phone. All I did was look up their name and I knew where they were.”

“So these men did nothing to you at all except invite you over to their house. And you accepted the offer under no influence or threat. You killed four innocent men and you want to be let back out on the streets? This woman is a danger to society. She seeks out innocent men to end their life for no reason.” He nodded his head and went back to his desk, looking at his notes. He looked back at you and nodded, “That will conclude my questioning.”

You looked back at your lawyer, they gave you back a look of relief. Then you searched the crowd for Sam. Once you found him he gave you a thumbs up. It seemed like you were already on top of the case.

“Miss y/n,” Your lawyer started. “We all know that you killed those men, but why?”

“They raped multiple women. When brought to court, they were given a light sentence and did not do proper justice to the woman. These woman went day to day fearing for their life that they ever spoke out about the terrible things that happened to them. I couldn't let myself live knowing that there was a reason for women to be scared because their government had failed them.”

“Those women were scared? Why were they scared?” “Because they feared that they would get raped again. All of those men were repeat offenders. They would only take more victims and never be punished.”

“So you killed those men to prevent others from being hurt with evidence that it would happen again.”

You nodded, “I would never hurt anyone that had no intentions of causing harm.”

“Miss l/n just described public defense. Under the public defense law, anyone can defend the public with reasonable cause. It’s like self-defense, but for others. She shouldn’t have been committed in the first place. If those men were still alive, they would have kept raping until they were killed. Miss y/n saved lives. That concludes my questioning.”

You were dismissed from the stand and went back by your lawyer. They smiled at you, knowing that with that alone, they had won the case.

The attorney called Sam to the stand; he took his oath and sat down.

“So, Sam. You were the warden in charge of the wing that Miss y/n was being held in?”

“Yes.”

“That prison is a tough place to be, she must’ve fussed around a lot.”

Sam shook his head, “Not one bit. She does not have a single complaint against her. Everything that was asked of her, she did with speed and efficiency. She didn't have one lash out in her time.”

“Nothing at all?”

“Like I said, not one complaint.”

“To my understanding you have a relationship with Miss l/n, is that correct?”

“Objection!” Your lawyer yelled. “Irrelevant to the case. Sam was called because of his position and his professional opinion, not his personal life.”

“Sustained.”

“That concludes my questioning.”

Your lawyer stood up and nodded. You could feel that they were about to lay down the last blow.

“Sam, did this prison have any rapists?”

He nodded, “All kinds of rapists, of all ages and target groups.”

“Did Miss l/n ever have contact with these rapists?”

“Yes. Most of the time during eating hours and the occasional passing in the hall.”

“And how did that interaction go?”

“Miss l/n was given a hard time by these rapists. While waiting in line she was often sexually grabbed. During passing she was cat called and teased at.”

“And what was here response to the sexual assault?”

“Stone faced, emotionless. Every time it happened it amazed me how she would just stand there and wait to be given a direction. The most reaction she’s ever had was lightly shuffling her body to get them off, but she never lunged or reached at them.”

“And what did the other guards do when they noticed this behavior?”

“Nothing. Sometimes they yelled if it was getting close to rape, but overall nothing. We were under instructions not to react because in the past it only caused encouragement of the assault. Prisoners love any excuse to fight a guard,” Sam looked over at you. “I am so sorry that there was nothing I could’ve done. Everyday I watched as you were touched and I wanted to give it to them, I wanted to make sure that I would see them every day of their life, but I couldn't. I couldn't risk hurting you more.”

You smiled, almost tearing up at his words, but you kept yourself composed with a small sniffle.

“The main concern of Miss y/n going back into the public is that she will kill again. As said by her and concluded by a court, she only killed rapists,” Your lawyer pointed out. “As stated by the warden in charge of looking over her, she had the opportunity to kill. She had the opportunity to hurt them, but she never took it. Even after being sexually assaulted, she still kept to herself. This is undeniable evidence that Miss y/n is a changed woman. In her file it is stated that she did more than required community service and went above and beyond with helping other cellmates. Her actions within the prison prove that she is a well-rounded and caring individual. She has changed her ways and is ready to go back into the world. She did justice to the world and it is time for the world to her justice.”

You waited anxiously for over an hour to find out what the jury had decided. You and your lawyer talked about possible outcomes. They told you the sooner they made the decision, the better chances that you had. You had no error in your case and said everything that you wanted to say. The opposing side’s evidence was all proven false.

You got called back into the court, the jury had made their final decision. You rose for the judge and took a seat when prompted. You could feel your leg bouncing.

“In the case of the State Prison vs l/n...” the judge started. You looked over your shoulder at Sam. He had his hands placed in a praying position with his head resting against them. “Miss y/n is found not guilty of all charges and her remaining sentence will be dismissed. She will compensated for her time falsely spent in prison plus be rewarded another trial for her sexual assault. This case is adjourned.”

You could feel emotion flood through you. Pure happiness and joy leaked from your eyes. You tilted your head back in relief and squeezed at your heart. All of these years of the bullshit you put up with was all worth it. You hugged your lawyer and thanked them up and down, the emotion so strong in you that you almost dropped to your knees. You were caught by familiar hands: Sam. Sam pulled you up and into him. He was practically jumping up and down in excitement. He calmed down for a second to lock eyes with you. He couldn't help but smile and cry with you. He placed his hands on your cheeks and pulled you into a deep kiss. It was nothing extravagant, just a simple deep and meaningful kiss that said all the words that he wanted to say.

“I’m coming home!”

#awesamdude #awesamedude x reader #x reader #warden #prison #warden!sam #irl #fluff #angst #mcyt #mcyt x reader #mcyt oneshot #oneshot #awesamdude oneshot #awesamdude imagine #imagine #mcyt imagine

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rayshippouuchiha · 3 years

Note

Nezu finding a younger Izuku and helping him hone his analysis skill (and build some confidence and ultimately creating a terrifying child who can analyze anyone in seconds and take them down just as fast with a smile) and then enlisting him to actually teach classes on the subject

just imagine Aizawa having to interact with this terrifying nightmare child who can read him better than a book

~Ah hell here we go again~ Read More Below!

Nezu doesn’t often leave UA’s grounds these days and even more rarely does he venture out unaccompanied in some way. He has made it a habit of sorts to stay on the campus as much as possible ever since he solidified his hold on the school almost a decade ago.

It’s a move that is he admits, even if only to himself, fueled by equal parts pragmatism and paranoia.

After all UA has most of everything he needs within it already including a set of private apartments scaled just perfectly to his size and tastes despite what impression the large, human suited desk in his public office tends to give any visitors to his domain. Why should he worry about venturing out into the city when anything the campus might not be able to provide for him can easily be procured by his minions dear employees or through delivery via secured drone?

And the fewer trips he makes off campus means the fewer opportunities there are for those who are still displeased with something someone such as himself holding such a position of power over such a prestigious hero school to take action. He, of course, has all faith in his ability to protect himself from whatever ham-fisted assassin might come his way but Nezu is, above almost all else, pragmatic.

The fewer bodies left in his wake the smoother his daily life tends to run.

It had, after all, been such a pain to get the records from his time at the tender mercies of his human captors completely sealed and the quietly buried.

The humans involved in the case had finally agreed though and in the years since they did so like to tout how the illustrious UA Principle had been “rescued” from the laboratories.

Few remained who remembered what the heroes who’d raided that hellish place had actually found when they’d arrived.

Those unlucky few who did remember had long since been silenced by hook or by crook. That had been one of the first things Nezu had done when he’d finally managed to accumulated enough power that his subtle threats and sharp toothed promises had finally come to hold real meaning on more than one level.

When he’d finally managed to bite and claw himself into a position of power that showed him as the threat he always had been for those who might dare cross him.

That had been the very first secret he’d ensured would be kept as it was one that posed the biggest threat to his reputations in a number of circles.

Nezu’s intellect wasn’t his only weapon after all, only his most dangerous. Though his teeth and claws could work in a pinch if the situation called for it. And when they’d tried to take his eye it had certainly called for it.

A self professed level of resentment and sadism could be excused by most of humanity for someone of Nezu’s circumstances.

But a body count? Well. That’s when humans tended to get ... tetchy.

So while Nezu does, of course, have a residence of his own off campus for paperwork purposes and as a secondary fall back location, UA’s campus has been his unofficial residence for some number of years now. And it will be his official one as well as soon as he manages to finally get the dorm system he’s been aching to implement passed through.

They will have to pry that school, his school, and what he’s attempting to build there from his cold, dead paws and whatever other insurance policies he manages to put into action between now and his inevitable death. Which will, of course, be some time in the far far future if he has anything to say or do about it. And he will.

All of that aside there are times when leaving the campus is unavoidable, this being one of them. An unfortunate scheduling conflict and a private meeting that absolutely had to be conducted in person had left him where he is now, strolling down the sidewalks of Musutafu and quietly lamenting how very oversized so many things were.

It truly was a pity that more accommodations had not been made for those whose quirks and circumstances of birth left them on the smaller side instead of on the larger scale. But progress could be rather unfortunately slow and so it was just one more issue Nezu hoped to begin subtly influencing in the coming years.

He’s just turning a corner, intent on visiting a nearby cafe with an excellent tea selection before he returns to UA (one must have their indulgences and a good brew and a finely crafted cigarette have long been amongst Nezu’s chosen pleasures), when he hears it.

“Get back here and get what you deserve, Deku,” a voice, rough and young but edged with a viciousness that makes the backs of Nezu’s teeth itch, practically howls.

Nezu, attention instantly captured, pauses just long enough to avoid being mowed down by the child who comes tearing around the corner.

For a split second their eyes meet, a blazing green gaze Nezu can’t help but admire just a bit locking with his own, as the boy sees him and swerves to avoid running into Nezu in his obviously frantic escape.

Nezu hops backwards a half step just as the boy loses his footing and crashing painfully to the side walk beside him.

“A-Are you o-okay?” the boy half stutters, half pants as he looks up at him, eyes wide and seemingly uncaring of the blood Nezu can already smell on his scraped palms and likely ripped kneecaps.

“Are you?” Nezu asks back evenly, eyes tracking over the boy and instantly compiling details and facts as he takes in the tattered school uniform, the pale face, the singed backpack and the bruises he can see just peeking out from beneath unseasonal long sleeves.

Everything about the boy screams battered to Nezu’s sense.

And then he looks down at his feet and sees his shoes.

His distinctive red shoes at that, vibrant in color and thick soled, subtly different in make and construction than most ordinary shoes seen these days, much like the footwear Nezu himself wears even now.

Which means that this boy either has a quirk that affects his feet or ...

“Thought you were going to get away didn’t you, you Quirkless fuck?” A small group of boys rounds the corner then, ignoring Nezu entirely and focusing on the boy who abruptly goes even paler somehow. “Just cause sensei couldn’t prove you cheated doesn’t mean we’re gonna let you get away with it.”

Ah, Nezu thinks even as he presses the urge to snarl down and away, option two then.

The green boy, because Nezu will not be calling him Deku even in his own mind, scrambled up onto his feet then. But, surprisingly enough, he doesn’t turn to run.

Instead he edges forward just a bit, sliding a shoulder and a foot forward until he’s standing almost protectively in front of Nezu himself.

“K-Kacchan,” the green one stutters, “I-I didn’t cheat I s-swear! I wouldn’t d-do that.”

“Tsk,” the blond leader, Kacchan, tisks then, a snarl thick and heavy on his young face. At his sides his hands flex in a move Nezu knows must be related to his quirk. “Bullshit. No way you’d get top of the class in anything without cheating, you worm.”

Nezu has known this child for roughly 6 seconds and he finds that he does not care for him at all. But then he’s never been overly fond of most of humanity either so perhaps that’s to be expected.

“H-Heroes don’t cheat,” Green insists, the naïve if well meant words sounding like a declaration. “If I’m g-going to be a hero then I c-can’t either.”

That explanation only seems to enrage Kacchan even further if the way his hands begin to pop and crackle is anything to go by.

This, Nezu knows as the scent of burnt caramel begins to fill the air around them, is going to escalate quickly.

“Public quirk usage is ~illegal~,” Nezu singsongs as he steps around the green boy and plants himself firmly in front of him instead, abruptly drawing the blond boy and his followers attention toward him. One paw slips into his vest pocket to remove the specially designed cell phone he’s never without. “I would hate to be forced to report this to the proper authorities.”

Never mind that, technically, he is the proper authorities.

The blond glares at him for a long moment before he huffs.

“This isn’t over Deku,” he snarls. “I’ll see you in class tomorrow.”

It’s an obvious threat but the boy turns on his heel, shoves his way through his friends, and stalks off back around the corner in the direction he came.

So Nezu lets it go. For now.

“Now that that has been handled for the moment, young man,” Nezu turns towards the green boy beside him with all of the showmanship that’s come to define his patented introduction, “let me introduce myself! Am I a dog, a rat, or a bear? Either way I am Nezu th-”

“Y-You’re the Intel Hero Nezu,” the green boy says brightly, cutting Nezu’s introduction off even as he rubs raw and bloody palms against his black slacks and starts to dig through his backpack, “You solved the H-Hanamura kidnapping and the Inugami murders! You’re one of my favorite heroes!”

Nezu can’t help the way he stalls out just a bit at that because ... well he’s never been anyone’s favorite anything. Their nightmare yes but not their favorite. Especially not a child. Children around this age normally tend to have more simplistic reactions to him. And most of them don’t know about the string of rather gruesome ritualistic homicides he’d solved or the high profile kidnapping cases he consults on in his down time.

“C-Can you please sign my notebook?” the boy says then, head bowed low and a notebook and pen held out in Nezu’s direction.

Nezu admits to being slightly intrigued when he sees the way the cover is labeled Hero Analysis For The Future Vol 8.

That intrigue only grows when he opens it and his attention is immediately captured by the rather impressively done sketch of Pro Hero Starstreak that he finds there.

Unable to help himself Nezu reads over the page quickly and then keeps going.

Well now, Nezu can’t help but think just a bit gleefully as he sees the absolutely unbelieve level of analysis this young, quirkless boy has compiled, isn’t this interesting.

#BnHA #Anonymous #RayRambles #The Principal's Unexpected Protege AU

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psychicdreamfriendoperator · 3 years

Note

Can I get some headcanons with Free dating someone? I am WEAK

I might have rambled a bit on this one haha, feel free to resend the ask if you wanted something else!

— Psychic

Things to Note

the name should be an indicator, but Free enjoys his freedom— he’ll be resistant to anything that restricts it.

the Shishigumi comes first; even if Free is laidback, he's still part of the gang’s inner circle.

Meeting Free

surprisingly enough, your relationship with Free did not begin as anything sexual.

It doesn't even begin as a friendship — it's difficult to describe a situation wherein you find a random lion in your house.

You think he was trying to rob you.

You fainted, of course.

When you awoke, you found yourself on the floor with a nasty ache in your back and a note nearby.

The words were scribbled hastily in print; “WILL VISIT AGAIN SOON”.

You filed a police report, but nothing came of it— other an officer’s promise that the station would keep an eye out for “any suspicious characters”.

The police station is blind, you concluded. Reason being, the lion returned exactly a week later.

Now, Free (as you’ve learnt is his name) just waltzes in and makes himself at home.

No matter how often you changed the locks or fortified the windows, Free found a way in.

It was almost like a game for the feline— you gave up on trying to keep him out.

Free had a nasty habit of not taking off his dirty ass shoes before he put his feet up on your white couch.

As your relationship progressed, he became more mindful of his behaviour— though, it took him a while to remember not to put his shoes all over your furniture.

Gifts

you grew used to the lion visiting you randomly. Sometimes, Free did not visit you empty handed.

Free gave you an expensive phone— albeit one with a cracked screen, a watch that smelled like seawater and a couch with red polka-dots to replace the one he dirtied with the grime at the bottom of his shoe.

It took you ten minutes of cleaning your “brand-new” sofa to realise that the red spots were not part of the original design.

It was definitely best not to ask Free where exactly he sourced his gifts from.

You eventually began to feel a bit poorly about receiving things from him all the time.

The first time you presented Free with a gift, he shut down.

During his visits, Free liked to make use of your bathroom. He always set his suit, tie and shoes one side while he cleaned himself (and used up all your hot water in the process).

It was inevitable that you would notice the wrinkles, and the scuff marks.

You couldn't have something so unkempt in your house. It wasn't an issue for you to do a quick spot of ironing.

Even the shoes could be made presentable— you just had to wipe them off and apply a bit of black polish.

When Free realised what you had done, he seemed to be speechless. Just when you expected to hear a “Thank you Y/N”, God quickly brought you back to reality.

“You're going to do this sort of thing from now on?” He held the suit jacket up by its sleeves, as if searching for the wrinkles he knew were no longer present.

You shrugged. “If you keep your shoes off my couch, then sure,”

You thought that your gift would encourage him to visit more often, but for a whole month, Free did not visit you.

You wondered if the police had finally caught the bastard— but, after a month, he returned as if nothing had ever happened.

After that, he no longer showered at your place.

Free’s Thoughts & Motivations

this ‘relationship’ was the longest one Free had ever been in.

The lion who bathed in the revelry of the Black Market now looked forward not just to bloodshed, but to movie marathons and hearing you bitch about your neighbours.

The fear of this casualty metamorphosing into something serious . . . something permanent, compelled Free to leave you alone for a while to collect his thoughts.

He only visited you because your home was a convenient place to rest before returning to the Mansion.

(The night you met him, he'd broken in to avoid a police patrol in the area.)

The presents were bribes to keep you complacent.

(Though . . . maybe he felt a bit bad about ruining your sofa.)

As much as your gesture touched him, Free wanted nothing in return.

Your gift was proof that you held some kind of affection for him.

Free returned to the Mansion feeling quite warm inside that day, but he didn't dare shower at your place again.

The affection that you held for him, no matter how miniscule, was addictive.

Dating

The others didn't pay much attention to it when Free casually mentioned that he had a “friend" outside of the Black Market.

The inner circle grew suspicious when he refused to elaborate further.

“It's time that we address the elephant in the room.” Dolph gave a pointed look at the only empty chair in the room.

Free’s chair.

The others around the table nodded once in solemn agreement. Then, someone raised their hand.

Dolph’s expression seemed to soften the smallest amount. “Yes, Agata?”

“Who’s going to kill him if we find out he’s planning to leave the gang? I would volunteer but my shoulder's still healing from that last gang war—”

Before the scar-faced lion could reply, Ibuki interjected. “This is Free we are discussing— he would not betray the Shishigumi in such a manner. There's no need to discuss things like that,”

He tapped a claw against the table, “In any case, we will get to the bottom of this. Tonight.”

A Cause For Concern

you thought that you were being paranoid.

You hoped that you weren't really being followed.

There was no mistaking it.

Everywhere you went, everytime you went outside, it was there.

A singular black car.

“Eh? What are you panicking about?” You heard Free's voice, but you didn't respond. You tossed your car keys, and they landed on the kitchen table.

You sped over to the windows. With one, great motion, you drew them, only stopping when the entire house was draped in darkness.

“There’s this black car . . . It’s been tailing me all weekend,” Though your voice was calm, your hands were shaking as you made your way back to the couch.

Free grew thoughtful, but only for the briefest of moments. He waved dismissively, and lapped one leg over the other, pulling you onto his lap with his free arm.

“Don’t worry about it. Just the Shishigumi being the Shishigumi. They won't break in or anything,”

Silence hung in the air only for half a minute, before Free added, “Probably won't, anyways,”

But, you are more focused on the s-word, rather than on what they may or may not do to your home.

“Shishigumi . . .?” The word was foreign on your tongue, but it was not entirely unfamiliar.

You didn't move off of his lap, but you gently pried off the hands that held your waist in place.

If you didn't know better, you would have sworn that Free looked just a bit . . . hurt by your actions. Still, he got the message and his hands remained at either side of himself.

You were grateful for that much.

“I didn't stutter,” The lion tsked. His hand slid over his mane. He was antsy about something, thag much you knew.

When Free next spoke, his voice was low. His chin rest atop your head, and you could easily feel the calming vibration of his throat.

“It doesn't bother you, right?”

A sigh escaped your lips. You pinched your nose. You internally debated strangling him for daring to ask something with such an obvious answer.

Of course you would mind! You felt as if you had always known Free was part of some illegal operation— but, it had never crossed your mind to assume the lion was in an actual gang!

No . . . that was a lie.

The thought had crossed your mind. You willed the thought to go away everytime it reared its ugly head.

“No, I don't mind, Free. I don't mind at all.”

Going Steady

Free talked things out with his colleagues— that's what he told you, at least.

The ominous black vehicle that stalked your every move disappeared just as quickly as it had appeared.

Life went back to normal, though, the visitor's list expanded by eight more lions.

Ibuki and Dolph were infrequent visitors— if they stopped by, then you knew it was on important business.

Agata often fetched your groceries, so you saw him often.

Miguel, Dope and Jinma visited infrequently, but were not as rare to see as Ibuki and Dolph.

Hino, like Agata, was a regular. He mostly crashed in your guest room— apparently, it was easier to fall asleep at your place.

Once every few months, Sabu would deliver your groceries instead of Agata. He seemed nice enough, but you found him to be intimidating as hell.

For better or for worse, Free begun spending nights at your house.

It would be wrong to call him a freeloader, though.

“There's ten grand in here . . .” You murmured to yourself. You turned the envelope over in your hands. Your name was written on the side, in Free's chickenscratch penmanship.

But, there was also a note; “10K. RENT MONEY FOR Y/N.”

#beastars free #beastars x reader #beastarsxreader #beastars headcanons #beastars dolph mention #beastars agata mention #beastars ibuki mention #beastars jinma mention #beastars dope mention #beastars miguel mention #beastars sabu mention #beastars hino mention #ask #beastars #beastars imagines

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me4ml · 3 years

Note

Why don't you like Maribat? Why do you think it's a spite or salt ship?

This is presumably because of my Adrigaminette post or the whole Maribat being on the ship list thing.

Quick disclaimer: if you read/ship/write/like Maribat, cool! This is not an attack. This is me answering why I, personally, do not like it. It’s tagged anti, and salt, so it should be filtered. Please don’t harass me over it.

Another note before we start: a lot of what I’m about to write is based on what I’ve read, fic wise or meta, and I blocked off the Maribat tag and fandom a long time ago. It may have changed over there-I doubt it, and I have zero desire to go and look-but this is based on what I’ve seen and read about.

There are, principally, three reasons I can’t stand Maribat, why I think it’s a spite/salt ship.

1). I don’t like Damian Wayne.

2). I don’t like how Damian and the DCU are written in Maribat.

3). Maribat is a mutated salt fic.

If you want to see my reasons why, the rest is under the read more.

1). I don’t like Damian Wayne.

Damian’s not just my least favorite Robin, ranking behind any of the others who have born the name. He’s my least favorite Batfam sidekick overall.

Part of this is his introduction, where he’s a violent, murderous, arrogant, entitled, snotty little brat of a thug. Lest we forget, one of his first acts is to go out, kill a guy, cut off his head, stuff a grenade into the decapitated head’s mouth, and try to blow up Tim. This is his introduction! There are a number of other occasions, including how he treats Jon, his best friend, and the rest of his siblings.

Another part is that he believes that he deserves to be Robin simply because he’s Bruce’s son, and therefore has the blood right to be Robin, to become Batman, and damn anyone else, who are all pretenders. Doesn’t matter that those characters might have a right to become Robin, or the future Batman, he’s the bio son, he deserves it!

Additionally, Damian feels.....not unnecessary, but repetitive, in his actions/characterization. There are other characters who can perform pretty much the same way for whatever storyline is necessary, without including Damian.

Trained by an abusive family to be the best, as an assassin and warrior? Cassandra.

A killer who breaks the main rule of his mentor, which causes tension and strain in the family? Jason.

Incredibly intelligent and talented? Tim.

Damian isn’t unique in what he does, and while that can make him an interesting character, it can also make the focus on him unnecessary.

As well, so much of Damian’s actions and motivations feels like he gets away with stuff, in-universe, because he’s Bruce’s biological son, and so Bruce gives him too much slack, and out-universe, because the writers let him/the fans will defend him. He gets woobified, or leather pantsed. Which leads to:

2). I don’t like how Damian and the DCU are written for Maribat.

For all his (numerous) faults, when written well, Damian can be an interesting character. For example: How does he deal with being deeply insecure? By putting on a mask of arrogance and overconfidence.

Some more examples: How does Damian act like an actual child, when he’s never had a childhood? How can he be a hero, if he’s been trained to be a killer? Can he ever catch up to his siblings, or will he feel like they’re always better than him?

Damian’s sense of being Batman’s son, of being the heir to the Cowl, slams right up against the idea of the Batfam: that there are people who have just as much of a right to call Batman their father/father figure, people who are just as talented and skilled and capable as Damian himself is, if not more. Watching Damian develop, when he’s written right, is actually enjoyable; mainly because when it’s done right, it shows Damian actually progressing and growing, becoming more of a person, with friends and interests. Most times, seeing Damian with his pets can be adorable, same with when he hangs out with Jon.

Is he still a brat? Still sometimes a bit too much of a Demon, an al-Ghul? Yes, but that’s always going to be part of him, and as long as he’s shown to try and grow, or gets called out on that, it’s less of an issue (There’s a completely different rant to be written about how DC likes to chuck character development or backstory into the trash when it suits them for a new run. Damian gets hit with this, as does Tim, or they get handed the idiot/conflict ball, but not the space for it).

Maribat hurls this all out the window. Damian’s bad traits are all “fixed” offscreen-he’s developed, matured, gotten better, whatever you want to call it. It’s basically a writer’s hand wave to make Damian into the character who will be the lead of the story, perfectly suited for his main role of being Marinette’s boyfriend and utterly devoted to her every whim and will. He’s enchanted by her at first glimpse, and defends her against everyone who hates her, because no one can understand her like he can!

Uh, what? This is not Damian Wayne. Even at his best, he’s no broody boy, pulled from his “dark path” by the love of a gentle girl. He’s a Jerk with a Heart of Gold-emphasis on the Jerk. There’s a reason his nickname usually involves “Demon.” Is Damian trying to get better? Yes. But even then, he’s not the type to immediately fall in love. He takes a while to warm up to people, for them to earn his trust, and Marinette would not be like that?

Let’s say that Robin is in Paris for a case, he runs into Ladybug and Chat, and after they explains what’s going on, Robin gives them a stare over his mask, and goes “TT! What a worthless hero, I would have caught him already.” LB and Chat would probably want to deck him, and that’s before he keeps talking.

Same with if Damian transfers to the class, or they meet on a field trip to Gotham. Damian’s not gonna care about some random French teenagers on a tour, or if he was transferred he’s gonna be trying to figure out why his father sent him to Paris, and be focused on the mission, not making friends.

Of all of the Robins, the ones that would be the most likely to capture Marinette’s interest would be Dick or Tim, not Damian. He would remind her too much of Chloe, as Damian, and as Robin, he would be dismissive of Ladybug’s abilities, which would absolutely piss her, and Chat Noir, off.

In characters that aren’t Damian, no one seems to be written properly over in Maribatland. One huge example is that Marinette is so beloved, so pure, that she can make any character fall in love with her, and reform by her pure goodness, including a fic where the Joker-THE JOKER!-becomes her “Uncle J,” and pranks Lila on her behalf.

Uh-huh. Sure. Completely and totally something that one of the biggest, most sadistic twisted, notorious villains in pop culture would do. Maribat winds up worshipping the ground that Marinette walks on, cause she’s “Teh best evar!”

Which then leads to my third and final point:

3). The whole Maribat concept is a mutated salt fic.

Most of the themes you’ll find in Maribat? You will find in nearly every salt fic.

Maybe my biggest issue with the whole Maribat idea is that it doesn’t feel like a proper crossover, which, at their best, explore how characters from one universe and their rules would interact with characters from another universe, and the rules of that one. Putting ML and DC together is a rich opportunity to play with concepts in both worlds!

And yet, it’s mainly used to bash ML characters who the writers despise, predominantly Adrien, Alya, and Lila, with members of the class thrown in depending on feeling, and potentially even Marinette’s parents! The only “good” ML characters are the ones who are on Marinette’s side, usually Luka, Kagami, a Chloe who for some reason has been redeemed and is now Marinette’s best friend, and whatever members of the class the writer decides to throw in there.

You’ll notice it’s not called “MiracuBat”, or LadyBat and Bat Noir-it’s MariBat. It’s meant as a focus on Marinette, making her-the hero of the Miraculous Ladybug franchise, someone in-story in story who is incredibly smart and talented and the leader of her team, future Guardian-even more awesome.....by beating down everyone else around her.

Marinette is simultaneously treated as an beaten-up, beaten-down walked-on carpet, and the best person to ever exist ever, go who only needs a group of new, different, better people to recognize that and save her from the clutches of those greedy and ungrateful assholes! That doesn’t include the fics where she’s the unknown child of a superhero or supervillain, making her even more special.

It’s Chameleon salt, class salt, with pointy ears and a cape on.

Some specific examples.

Adrien: Adrien is a spineless doormat who prioritizes Lila over Marinette, or an entitled bastard sexual harasser, only fixated on Ladybug, or even both. Sometimes it’ll get worse, as Adrien will threaten or abandon Marinette if she steps off of his “high road,” and Chat will be a budding rapist, stalking or capturing Marinette after he’s learned she’s Ladybug, while ignoring her prior to that. He will, of course, have his ring stripped and handed off to Damian, who is the “true” soul of Destruction and so therefore a “perfect match” to Marinette’s Creation soul. Occasionally it will be Jason, or Tim, or Dick, but the key thing is that it’s not Adrien!

While Damian’s issues are magically fixed, Adrien gets no such courtesy. Adrien has been abused, just like Damian, and while Damian’s abuse is more extensive and extreme, abuse is abuse. If anything, if Damian met Adrien, he would probably see another abused kid, and want to be his friend/have his “adopt stray person!” Instincts go off. I can much more imagine Damian dragging a bewildered Adrien into the Batcave and yelling “Father I’ve found another one for you to adopt!” than I can Damian immediately hating Adrien, or Chat, simply for breathing.

We never see Clark taking Adrien under his wing, or Bruce, or any of the other Batfam; nor any of the other Justice Leaguers. We never see Selina try to fight Bruce over the kid, because he’s cat-themed, and Selina can train him, this one’s hers Bat, get off!

Adrien’s never treated as a kid, or given actual development. A major complaint among salters is that Adrien is treated as perfect and never develops, and in fic, rather than developing him, Adrien either remains static, with his flaws narratively exploded, or is developed negatively. He’s there to be beaten up on and punished by the writers, if not actually physically beaten up by characters in the fic.

Alya: the not-so-good friend, the cheap excuse for a journalist, the awful person who abandons Marinette for Lila and her “connections.” Never mind that Alya was Marinette’s friend from the beginning, or that Marinette’s chosen her multiple times for a Miraculous. One instance of questioning Marinette about Lila, and Alya’s a backstabbing bitch.

Maribat treats Alya as neglectful, bossy, domineering and submissive at the same time to Marinette and Lila respectively, and as a journalist, the worst of the worst. She’s played as a two-bit paparazzo, and once again, the DCU is used to punish her. We don’t see Alya get mentored by Lois or Clark-indeed, if they notice her, it’s with disdain or disappointment. Often, they’re crushing her under their heel, calling her not only a bad journalist, but a bad friend/person. This forgetting, of course, that Alya runs her blog as a hobby so far, she’s only a teenager, and that she’s had Marinette’s back against Chloe and Lila.

The Class: the dupes or allies as needed. Class salt levels depend on what the writer needs. If they’re pro-class, they’re all on Marinette’s side, aside from Alya Adrien and Lila. Chloe, for some ungodly reason, is “redeemed” nigh instantaneously, and often will become Marinette’s best friend, if that isn’t Kagami already. Kagami will drop Adrien like a wet tissue, never trying to reconcile him with the clas, or encourage him to stand up for himself, or if she does, Adrien, of course, will not listen.

If the writer is anti-class, whoo boy. Openly mentally, emotionally, physically abusive to Marinette, the worst gang of people you would ever have the displeasure of meeting, they all need to be in Arkham.

We never see any of the class make friends with the Batfam, the Titans, Young Justice-unless they’re on Marinette’s side, of course. There’s no Alix stopping Selina at the Louvre, for instance, or Max hanging out with Babs. It’s all based on how Marinette is treated as to whether or not the class is portrayed as being worse than the worst of the Rogues Gallery.

Wrapping it all up, Maribat has made me dislike the entire concept of a DC/ML crossover.

Even if someone had written an non-salt, in-character crossover, I don’t know if I would read it, simply because the well has been that poisoned.

#anti maribat #anti maridami #anti daminette #maribat salt #daminette salt #maridami salt #anti damian wayne #Damian Wayne salt #ml fandom salt #anonymous #ask answered #long post

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seiyasabi · 3 years

Text

Clumsy

(This is a short story about Yandere Natsuo Todoroki x Female Reader! I hope I did his character justice, even tho this is quite short (I’m really sorry about that, Anon, I wasn’t really sure how to progress the story) :))

TW: alludes to captivity, kidnapping, stalking, Dabi helps lol, the Todoroki’s are from a long line of Yanderes, yandereism is valid in this society, technically yandere au?, etc.. )

“Why are you outside my window?” You know the reason why the white haired man is outside, but deep down, you hoped it wasn’t for the reason you thought. After all, why would a Todoroki crush on someone like you? You made yourself as boring as possible to deter yanderes from breaking down your door, and so far, it has worked. Why wouldn’t it work on him too?

“I-uhm-you see, it’s not what you think. I thought this was my-uhm-fu-friend’s house! Yeah, that’s why I’m here,” His eyes dart around your room, trying to look anywhere but you. A light sheen of sweat coats his exposed forehead, exposing just how nervous he is.

“Oh yeah? Who lives over here? Last time I checked, most of your football friends are rich,” Scoffing lightly, you grab your window pane, fully intending on shutting the bulletproof glass in his face, “Just-just go home, Todoroki. I’ll see you in class on Tuesday-” A large hand grabs yours, yanking it away from your protection.

“Wait!” He yanks you forward by your hand, accidentally banging your head on your window at full force. Yelping in pain, you try to wrench your hand away from his, only to be completely yoinked out of the window, “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to hurt you, but please give me a chance!” He gives you a dazzling, hopeful smile, “I know that I’m not as cool as my brothers, but I know that I can treat you right!” You feel slightly dizzy after banging your head, oh god, hopefully you’re not concussed.

“Fuck off,” His smile immediately drops, “Why the hell do you even want me? Huh? There’s plenty of girls who foam at the mouth at the thought of being a Todoroki Darling, but yet, you choose me! I’ve only ever been polite, hell, that’s even pushing it! I should’ve faded into the background-”

“You could never fade into the background, (Your Name),” His handsome face is grim, showing that he was completely serious, “Whenever you thought I wasn’t looking, I saw who you truly were. With your Darling friends, you’re always goofy and kind, totally unlike the cool facade you always keep on. I don’t understand why you’d hide those good traits-”

“Because I didn’t want creeps like you coming after me!” You can feel a drop of blood drip down your temple, causing your anger to flare up even more, “I know that you've been following me around for months, but I tried to ignore it. I thought that if I didn’t acknowledge you, you’d grow bored. Yet, you didn’t get the hint. I want nothing to do with you, Todoroki Natsuo. I want you to leave me alone and find someone else to steal away,” His lip quivers in distress, grey eyes clouding with unshed tears.

“I’m not delusional, (Your Name). I know what I’ve been doing is wrong, but I can’t stop myself. You know I can’t stop my feelings towards you, why do you keep pushing me away? I just want to take care of you-”

“You can barely take care of yourself, how can you take care of another person?” Your words are harsh, but they hold truth. The man always came to class hungover, so there’s clearly an emotional issue he refuses to address, “Look, I get that you have good intentions, but I don’t think we’d be a good match.”

Silence settles between the both of you, Natsuo looking like you just killed his puppy, and you looking at him stone faced.

“You don’t mean that,” His tone is pleading, but you refuse to give into him.

“Yes, I do. I want you to leave my property and never see me again.”

The white haired man slowly releases your wrist, allowing you to create some space between the both of you. Thinking that he finally gave in to your request, you turn to climb back inside to patch yourself up, only to run face first into a t-shirt clad chest.

“I didn’t want it to come to this, (Your Name), but you leave me no choice,” You try to move away from the new man, only to be hit in the head with a blunt object, “I can’t bear to hurt you, so I have my brother, Touya, to help me. He’ll help me take you home, isn’t that nice of him?” Your consciousness begins to fade, vision becoming fuzzy as you’re suddenly thrown over a broad shoulder.

“Quit the speech, Natsuo. Your girl is probably concussed, and I highly doubt she wishes to hear you bitchin right now. You’re lucky dad threatened-” Their voices fade out as you officially lose consciousness, sealing your fate of being the middle brother’s unwilling lover.

#yandere natsuo #natsuo todoroki #yandere natsuo x reader #yandere bnha #yandere mha #touya #dabi is touya #natsuo x reader

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yanderes-galore · 8 months

Text

Just making this because I've been replaying Gears 1/Ultimate and wanted to share my niche little interest with you all in here so you just know what I like. If someone here likes Gears feel free to hmu, I'll happily listen to your brainrot and please do tell me if you have other ideas for how they act or if I got something wrong. No one's done anything like this but... hey... Gears was the first thing I ever wrote fanfiction for so I love it.

I decided to just do these four In one post to see what happens. As a result, it's kinda long :p Pure unedited brainrot, enjoy! Maybe I'll do another for the Gears 4 crew or the Carmines in the future.

General Look at Delta Squad as Yanderes

(Marcus, Dom, Cole, Baird)

Pairing: Romantic/Platonic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Overprotective behavior, Mentions of war, PTSD, Character's feeding into obsession, Violence, Death, Blood, Guilt tripping, Manipulation, Delusional behavior, Self-destructive behavior, Possessive behavior, Threats, Kidnapping mentioned, Stalking, Trackers, Swearing with Baird's part, Recordings, Secret pictures, Dubious relationship/companionship.

Marcus Fenix

Marcus would certainly be one that's hard to read.

Due to his past and tendency to lose those close to him due to war, he isn't the most expressive person.

He's loyal to his comrades and does care for others such as Dom, Anya and in this case... you.

However, Marcus doesn't show much emotion compared to people like Dom and Cole.

He often comes off cold and angry, yet he's a leader and expects to be listened to.

His darling may often think he doesn't care despite the fact he does.

To a concerning degree, actually.

He tries to avoid risks that could cause unnecessary loss.

As a platonic view towards you, he'd be most likely to take on some sort of father role or even be a friend. Yet father seems most likely for him due to Gears 4?

Romantic he sees you as someone he'd like to settle down with when he has the chance.

It's hard to tell how he feels until his obsession progresses due to his lack of emotion half the time.

Even if he seems apathetic, he'd be devastated if anything happened to you.

I feel when it comes to Yandere! Marcus and the loyalty Dom has towards him, Dom would feed into his tendencies.

The two are friends and Dom would probably encourage his less emotive friend to be closer to you.

Marcus doing dark things for you isn't too OOC.

He's seen death, he's been through a lot, he's often assertive and aggressive at times...

Anything like violence or murder isn't too hard to think of when it comes to him, but he tries to avoid it.

In terms of jealousy I feel he doesn't show it much.

He may take it out on others or maybe even Locust in battle, but he isn't going to outright admit it.

He shows he cares for you in his own way.

Physical affection is difficult since he's only known war for so long.

However, when it comes to you and coaxing from Dom, he gives in.

The most I can see for affection from him is pats on the back and pulling you close.

Outright hugging you is rare but happens.

He just... isn't very expressive.

A yandere being hard to read can be an issue.

With Marcus I can agree somewhat.

He knows better than to kill another human, he's already been labeled as a traitor once.

Fist fights don't count.

Marcus would get physically violent to protect you.

He's been covered in multiple times before, it's his line of work.

Violence is just expected of him.

But when it comes to you he gets softer.

He doesn't let his guard down but he's a bit more considerate.

Marcus would never let you out of his sight.

As a leader he feels responsible for your safety.

Plus, he expects you to listen to him due to his authoritative nature.

I feel he's a protective yandere and isn't all that possessive.

He'll have you return to him in the end in some way.

Marcus fights for you and the future he could share with you.

Be it taking you under his wing or taking you as a romantic partner, he's determined to see you live through it all and be beside him.

If you rejected Marcus then I don't think he'd be violent towards you.

He understands but doesn't leave you alone.

Then there's if Dom finds out....

Being loyal as ever, Dom would guilt trip you into going back to Marcus.

You'd be dragged back by his friend to return Marcus' care towards you.

Marcus tends to make orders towards you and is stern.

Out of everyone on Delta, Marcus and Baird may be the more "forceful" ones towards you if you disagree with them.

Marcus wouldn't force his darling into "obedience" aggressively.

He won't lay a hand on you but he may threaten or be persistent about it.

He most likely outranks you, so you should listen to his orders anyways.

He knows what to do so just listen.

He doesn't seem the type to kidnap.

Yet he does seem like someone who could murder and will probably even get help from Dom. (Platonic yandere Dom/hj?)

Overall, Marcus is a stern protective yandere who is hard to read. No only that but he often gets help from Dom if there is some issues between you and him.

Dominic Santiago

Dom is a much different type than his friend, Marcus.

He's an upbeat family man who's loyal and defends those he cares about.

He's most loyal to Marcus, willing to even break his loyalty to the COG to help him.

Dom would lean more into a protective delusional yandere.

He thinks his darling couldn't hate him and is always super caring towards you.

In terms of a platonic yandere, Dom could work as a fatherly yandere or a close friend.

He's loyal and one for family.

When it comes to romantic intentions he's incredibly affectionate and caring.

While Marcus tends to bottle his feelings and obsession over you, Dom is more emotive about it.

He knows how to be serious but also knows how to make his darling smile.

However, he isn't as in your face about it as Cole.

Dom makes it known he cares for you.

Plus he thinks you'll feel the same regardless on how you feel now.

Dom is someone willing to sacrifice everything for you.

You and Marcus mean the world to him.

As a result, he'd get himself hurt to protect you.

One of his biggest fears is losing those he loves.

Which means he'd rather die than lose you.

Dom can be a bit invasive at times but will give you space.

In terms of jealousy I'd imagine he'd make it known in passing.

He seems like he'd get moody or mention it later but wouldn't hurt anyone over it.

The only time he hurts others over you is if your life is in danger.

Other than that, Dom is an affectionate man who wants nothing more than to give you the world.

In terms of Delta Squad he's in the middle.

He's protective and delusional at times but knows when it is right to give you space.

Although Dom tends to use emotional manipulation to nudge you in the direction he wants.

He isn't really possessive, just jealous at times.

When it comes to Dom I can't really see him killing people out of jealousy.

Not unless he was overcome with some sort of emotion or was aiding you or Marcus while doing it.

In terms of if Marcus would help him with his obsession, it can go one of two ways.

Marcus either tries to correct him and tells him off...

Or Marcus helps by intimidating you into compliance, because they're friends after all.

Dom doesn't want you to be scared of him.

He wants you to eventually love him in whatever way he feels (romantic or platonic).

He'd be more physically affectionate, he's much more willing to physically embrace you and kiss you.

Dom would be one who wants to pamper you.

He wants to make you happy and cared for.

Sometimes his own dark thoughts of obsession disturb him, but he gives in eventually.

Dom is someone I can see kidnapping you.

It isn't at the top of his list but he does seem like the type to do that.

His motive is most likely to start a family but he doesn't need to kidnap you to do that.

Manipulation is theoretically all he needs.

If you told him you hated him he'd be in disbelief.

In his mind he doesn't think he's doing anything wrong once he fully accepts it.

He sees following you close and holding you to be a sign of protection.

Obviously you're going to need someone to be your second half in the world, right?

In a war riddled Sera you'll need him to keep you safe... so let him help!

He'd do anything for you.

Overall Dom is certainly a very loyal, protective, yet delusional yandere. He's pretty average when it comes to Delta Squad's yandere behavior for the most part... but has his moments.

Augustus Cole

Cole is similar to Dom but more intense.

He's energetic and enthusiastic.

Cole knows how to cheer up his squad and is always friendly.

Everyone seems to get along with him and he's even been friends with one of Delta's most stubborn members, Baird, for years before Delta.

I have a feeling no one could really hate him as he's just that nice to be around.

In fact you most likely get along with him fine.

Before E-Day Cole used to be a celebrity Thrashball player, he's famous prior to the Locust war but stays modest.

He actually doesn't like flaunting his fame all that much.

Yet if his darling knew him from those days and still admired him, he isn't complaining!

I have a feeling Cole is protective like most, a bit delusional, and a bit manipulative.

He'd also be one to prioritize his darling's happiness and often tries to keep them happy.

I can also see him being very affectionate and somewhat clingy.

Cole as a platonic could work as either a fatherly yandere or a very close friend.

He's a dad in canon at some point and is just so damn friendly.

With romantic intentions he'd be charming too.

Honestly, Cole may even fit into the role of the yandere you have no idea is a yandere.

He could get close to you and even integrate himself into your life before you even figure out something's wrong.

His friendly persona is no facade but he certainly utilizes it to stay on your good side.

He's just always so excited and happy despite the situation.

Cole would probably not harm another human unless they hurt you first.

Locust on the other hand?

He takes pleasure in killing them.

He's has a fighting spirit and it even disturbs others at times how often he runs into battle with no plan.

It would definitely be hard to tell he is a yandere.

He doesn't consider kidnapping or murder, most of the time he's just slowly worming his way into your life.

He makes all these cute promises of taking care of you and lives for your smile.

He'd also give you little nicknames.

He'd definitely be physically affectionate, probably even more than Dom.

He loves the idea of you smiling and laughing in his arms.

Cole would never want to do anything that would upset you.

Which is why overall he'd be a rather tame yandere for your sake.

However, if it ever comes to it, he doesn't mind getting some blood on him.

It comes with the job, plus, while he tries not to hurt other humans/soldiers...

Can you really tell the difference between human and Locust blood?

Overall, Cole would be very caring and would give you anything to make you happy. Any signs of obsessive behavior are really hard to spot with him.

Damon S. Baird

Baird is noted as being hard to get along with.

It isn't until later in the series that he stops being selfish and tries to get along with others.

Before that he only ever got along with Cole and later on, Delta Squad as a whole.

When he just meets you he's going to be a bit of an... ass.

As a result I feel Cole would help him out similar to Dom with Marcus.

Cole acts as a bridge between you at first to get along.

Doesn't matter if he's aware of Baird's obsession or not, he's willing to help you get along.

Baird has always been antisocial and poor with people.

He prefers to turn to machines and work on those rather than talking.

He's skilled in mechanics, demolitions, and robotics.

He could use such talents in his obsession.

Especially in Gears 4 where he owns the DB robotics company.

I could see him making drones or trackers to help his obsessive need to be near you.

Baird would be the yandere of Delta Squad more prone to stalking.

He'd secretly place a tracker in your armor or clothes or assign JACK to watch over you.

Baird when it comes to being platonic would more likely lean closer to being a friend than a fatherly yandere.

He's the type of friend that's hard to get along with at times but cares for you above all else like with Cole.

When it comes to romantic feelings he comes off awkward when trying to express it.

He struggles with personal connections like Marcus and struggles with his attempts to flirt or be on your good side.

You may hate Baird at first but he begins to grow on you.

He tends to run his mouth when he shouldn't which may make you upset.

As a result Cole may need to step in to repair things between you.

Cole is a bit of an enabler, guilt certainly creeps up on him at times though.

I feel Baird falls into the possessive category more than the others do.

You are one of the ones he tolerates the most.

It gets on his nerves at times when others are around or you're placed on another squad.

I feel if Baird ever got jealous he'd be willing to make it everyone's problem.

He'll complain to you about it and overall make it a big deal.

It gets annoying quickly.

He just wants to be alone with his robotics and have you to talk to him.

He also doesn't really need to kidnap because he'll have you covered in trackers.

No, don't ask what the device in his hand is that he keeps checking.

It's not important... (it's the thing he uses to track you).

Why kidnap you when he can just know where you are?

Murder? Ehhh... probably not his thing.

He could kill Locust all day like most of the COG.

Humans? He doesn't really like people but won't turn his gun on them unless they were traitors.

Threatening them would be up there though.

He's mostly bark but would probably punch someone if they got on his nerves.

He'd probably try to hide the fact he cares for you until much later, sort of like he's in denial.

He claims he doesn't have any specific feelings towards you when anyone asks...

But that's a huge lie.

He keeps track of you through tech and often shows worry when you're not around.

Others seem to notice but he quickly hides hid worry if it ever shows too much.

He's bad with affection at times but could give either verbal or physical.

He struggles with verbal.

He doesn't want you to think he hates you, truth is you often occupy his mind more than he'd like.

He'd probably lose it if he lost you somehow.

Which often means he clings around you, both to keep your attention and defend you.

Baird may also be one to utilize JACK to take pictures/record you when you aren't looking.

He definitely has a folder of such information recorded by JACK.

Baird would appear forceful at times, often getting frustrated if his darling was refusing him or ignoring him.

He has to be calmed by Cole but it only does so much.

You quickly become a big part of his life...

Recording you, protecting you, and being covered in blood for you becomes part of his daily life.

Regardless on if you like him or not due to his past behavior, he always has liked you.

You can only push him away from you for so long before he attempts to force his way into your life.

Overall, Baird can be a yandere who seems to hate you at first to hide his obsession. In reality he struggles with his obsessive tendencies towards you to the point he can't take it anymore and takes control of the situation.

He may seem like he doesn't care... in reality he cares so much it may just be destructive for the both of you.

#yandere gears of war #yandere gears #yandere marcus fenix #yandere dominic santiago #yandere augustus cole #yandere damon baird

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jackidy · 3 years

Text

To Be Struck

Rating: T Pairings: EnnoTana Characters: Various, focus on Karasuno and Ennoshita. Universe: Canon Summary: “He has no idea, does he.” Yamaguchi states, having waited with the third years and Tsukishima for the captain to show up only to bare witness to him be accosted by a group of boys. They can’t tell for sure what’s being said only that Ennoshita seems to be surprised, hands up in mock surrender before a relaxed, more apologetic pose takes over, the tell-tale sign of nervousness as he scratches the back of his neck.

“Oh no, theres not a single thought of how handsome he actually is behind those big old brown eyes.” Narita states, earning a grunt of agreement from the other third years and something akin to a laugh from Tsukishima. “The boy is oblivious to how handsome he is.”

AO3

---

The shirt fits better than he thought it would, taking the quiet moments before the rest of the team would show up to simply get used to the new found feeling of confidence that he had gained over the school break but also seemed to multiply as soon as he’d donned the number 1 shirt. Would Daichi be proud of his progress? Probably, Sugawara? Definitely, smile tugging at his lips in memory of this morning’s phone call, the former Karasuno setter clearly running late for university but still making time to give Ennoshita a fairly out of breath pep talk about he’s got this.

He offers good mornings to Ukai as their coach yawns past, followed by the team who seem to be either the same level of tired or overly excited to either be back with the team after the long break or the potential new players who would be joining. More had signed up this year than ever before, the team’s success at nationals having attracted more attention than Ennoshita had, truthfully, expected, hating that this would happen during his tenure as captain and not to another.

But then, would he really want to inflict this on anyone else?

“We missed you at lunch today, not avoiding us now that you’re captain, are ya?” Kinoshita teases, Ennoshita laughing at the over dramatics as the tawny haired man launched into an over dramatic spiel, leaning against Narita as he lamented over being left behind on the benches, beckoning Yamaguchi in to join him only to be rejected by the second year. “Our boy gets promoted and now he’s too good for us mere bench warmers.”

“No, no, I had to go see Takeda senpai and sort out club stuff, more so since they’re planning a Miyagi based training camp this year.” Ennoshita laughs out more than speaks, pulling the team fleece on, pushing his locker closed only to pause as everything goes quiet. Staring at the team in mild confusion, they just stare back, a few slacked jaws and even a few rosy cheeks amongst them, turning to Kinoshita and Narita for help only to find them in a similar state.

“What?” He asks the silent room, looking with increasing confusion and anxiety between his teammates, hoping one of them would give in and explain just why everyone had gone quiet only to find nothing to cure his nervous curiosity. “Alright then, I need to talk to coach so I guess I’ll see you in the gym.” Ennoshita adds after a few more moments of silence, sighing and dismissing himself from the locker room.

He’s only somewhat confused and mostly annoyed when the talking almost immediately picks up again after he leaves, the team speaking in hushed whispers over something that would undoubtedly cause trouble for him later.

---

The constant giggling confuses him more than anything, Ennoshita frowning as another group of first years pass him in the corridor, the group breaking into hushed whispers, giggles with one or more cheeks flushed a pale pink. He’d assumed it was in response to one of the others, his fellow third years nothing short of attractive, his thoughts lingering on the teams ace a little too long before sighing and shaking his head.

Tanaka Ryuunosuke was a subject best not dwelled on, least he end up losing himself to a train of thought best not considered. The ace wasn’t interested in him beyond friendship, Tanaka’s romantic interests focused on cute dark-haired girls with striking features, the only part of that list Ennoshita could be associated with was the dark hair.

“Hi, Ennoshita.”

“Umm…hi?” He’s confused, more giggling before the group of third years is gone, Ennoshita’s frown deepening as he headed for the back of the class where everyone was waiting for him, food in various stages of being eaten. They hadn’t waited for him and he’s thankful for it, sliding into the chair between Kinoshita and Tanaka with a groan, sliding further into the seat as hands fumbled with his bag for his lunch, still frowning as he dug in without a word.

“You keep frowning like that and your face’ll stick.” Noya speaks around a mouthful of food, both Narita and Kinoshita grimacing before Narita smacks his arm with a comment to stop being gross. It works for the most part, the libero chewing and swallowing with such vigour the rest of the group is surprised he doesn’t choke. “What’s bothering you, cap?”

Ennoshita pauses, trying to find the words to accurately describe his issue before sighing. “People keep giggling when I walk past them, I have no idea why though.” He replies honestly, oblivious to the looks the others were giving him as he continued his train of thought. “At first I thought it was because I was with one of you guys but they continued even when it was just me.”

The shared look between Kinoshita, Narita and Nishinoya only adds to his ever growing confusion, head turning to the left with hope of getting an answer from Tanaka only to be met with a flushed yet mystified look. Why was he looking at him like that? What was he missing that everyone else was apparently so clearly aware of? Snapping his fingers in front of the others face, Ennoshita bites back a laugh as Tanaka jumps, nearly spilling his drink on himself.

“Wait, why did you think the giggling was down to one of us four?” Narita pipes up after a moment, Ennoshita looking over to him whilst the group focused on the captain once more. Ennoshita shrugs, faking a thoughtful look before grinning lazily, something teasing and mischievous in his tone.

“Because you’re all a bunch of clowns.”

---

The trip to Johzenji is by no means quiet but the din of Nishinoya and Hinata hyping up the nervous first years isn’t enough to break him from his thoughts of the incident a mere thirty minutes ago. A second year, from Yamaguchi’s class if memory serves, had confessed to him. Face flushed, voice stammering and a love letter clutched so tightly in her hands Ennoshita was surprised she hadn’t ripped the letter by accident.

He wasn’t going to return her feelings, he only just recognised her never mind the fact he didn’t know her name, but he didn’t even get a chance to politely reject her before Tanaka had come from seemingly nowhere, taken his wrist and dragged him away with a gruff comment of how they were going to be late. The girl had just seen the look on Tanaka’s fae, looked at the tan hand clamped around his wrist and just profusely apologised saying she’d misunderstood.

What had she misunderstood? There wasn’t anything to misunderstand! Sure, Tanaka had perhaps been a little more gruff than usual but hadn’t his last class of the day been maths? It wasn’t one of his stronger subjects, maybe it had just put the vice-captain into an irritable mood. But doubts had only began to settle in when the other had spent the majority of the ride sat next to Haruka, the team’s new libero, who had made it his life mission to cheer the Ace up.

“Gummy for your thoughts?” Yachi asks, voice a hushed whisper as she offers the bag of gummies to Ennoshita, looking around the seat as she checked to see if the rest of the team had heard her at all. He takes one, mulling over if he would tell her anyway, the team manager hastily shoving the sweets back into her bag as Kageyama stalked past to ask Coach Ukai something.

“This is the part where you tell me what’s troubling you.” Yachi teased when Ennoshita remained silent, Ennoshita laughing before shrugging. He’d grown close to Yachi since she’d joined the team, more so after Daichi announced him as the next captain and they started working together more frequently once the year began. It had earned no short amount of teasing over his ability to talk to girls easily from Kinoshita and the question of if they were dating from one of the overly curious first years.

“It’s nothing, I’m just a little confused about somethings is all.”

“Such as?”

Ennoshita clicks his tongue, elbow against the window frame and jaw resting in his palm, silently wishing the vibrations caused by bad suspension would perhaps shake the thoughts out so he could finally focus on things more important than everyone’s new reactions to him. “People keep paying attention to me and, just now, had a girl confess her feelings for me. Only to apologise when Tanaka grabbed me and dragged me off so we could go, saying she’d misunderstood.”

“I don’t get what there was to misunderstand.” Other than the fact she had feelings for me, he adds silently, a troubled look on his face, accepting another gummy when Yachi offered it to him, the younger blonde seemingly lost in her thoughts as he continued. “He just took my wrist and said we were running late.”

He doesn’t confess as to how he can still feel the ghost of that touch on his wrist, that he humoured the idea that Tanaka was so annoyed about the interaction because he was jealous and not because they were going to be late. That the concept of her misunderstanding was that they were dating any not something else that was more trivial than the idea of them dating.

“Maybe she thought you two were, you know, together.”

He chokes, wheezing and waving off the hand of Narita dangerously close to hitting him in the back, waiting for the middle blocker to sit back down and resume conversation with Kinoshita before turning his attention to Yachi. She looks concerned for the most part, a hint of underlying smugness so reminiscent of Kiyoko when she made an all too correct assumption about something that, for a brief moment, Ennoshita feels like he’s sat with her instead.

“Okay, even if she did think that, it doesn’t explain everything else.”

“No but I’m sure you’ll figure it out, captain.”

---

It takes only five seconds of knowing Terushima Yuuji for Ennoshita to realise the man is tenacious if not a little bit odd, leaning away as the fellow captain leaned in, the feeling of being observed by a predator becoming increasingly more present. Pregame handshakes weren’t supposed to last this long, remembering how even the tense ones between Daichi and Kuroo the year before had never seemed to be endless.

Should he be the one to let go first? The want for the contact to be over already battling against his will to not be seen as weak, the handshake finally coming to an end when one of the coaches, the Johzenji one, shouts for Terushima to stop antagonising him. Was it still antagonising someone if it felt like Terushima was wanting a reaction from him that wasn’t annoyance? Ennoshita didn’t know and wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to find out either.

“I look forward to see you play, Ennoshita.”

Hand finally free, Ennoshita wipes it on his shorts leg with theatrical disdain, snorting in vague amusement at the just as dramatic gasp from behind him as he walked back to his team. What game was he playing at? Why had he pronounced his name like that, too much emphasis on the shi that he’d drawled out for far too long for it to be anything short of annoying.

He hates that his mind goes immediately to how it would be less annoying coming from Tanaka.

The practise match goes better than expected, the boost of adrenaline in his veins from being on the court only seemingly nullified during breaks when Narita and Kinoshita began their lament of being Ennoshita leaving on the benches, managing to drag Yamaguchi into joining in, even if the second year could not keep a straight face throughout the entire thing. They win, by no means a crushing victory but enough to know what needs to be improved upon with the new team dynamic, thinking over ideas he could go over with the Coach when they got back to school when feels the arms slink over his shoulder, smells the marker and feels the hand over his shoulders take hold of his forearm almost too gently.

Strong body spray and an obnoxious shade of yellow. The feel of a sharpie against his skin as it scrawled ink and numbers across his skin, Ennoshita stood like a deer in the head lights at the hum in his ear, the pop of lips as the writing was finally done. “Call me whenever, it would be a shame to not know you better, Chikara.” His arm is released, Terushima leaving without any further contact, Ennoshita only breaking out of his stunned state when someone yells at the Johzenji captain.

What…what just happened?

His state of being is nothing short of catatonic, walking in his bemused stupor to where the rest of the team are waiting, staring at the number signed with a heart scrawled across his skin. Why had he said his name like that?! A low drawl, the rolled and extended a at the end of his name, the fact it had made his face flush rosy like he was a first year. He had no interest in the other captain in both terms of friendship and relationship. So why, why was he reacting like that?

Forgetting to pull down his sleeve has never had such dire consequences, helping Takeda to gather the team and attendance to make sure nobody was left behind, most having the wherewithal to stay quiet at the number scrawled on his arm. All bar Kendo, the would-be wing spiker’s eyes lightning up before practically yelling. “Yo, Captain! Whose number did you get?”

The drive home is too rowdy, Ennoshita wishing Ukai would wake up and bellow at them all to shut up as question after question is fired at him. Whose number is it? Terushima’s. Are you dating? No. Do you like him? Not really. Would you date him if he asked you? No. Does Tanaka become captain if you fall for another captain and die? No, Haruka, but thank you for the concern.

Perhaps it’s the sap in him but Ennoshita finds he doesn’t mind the questions so much anymore, when he notices Tanaka is no longer in a mood but laughing along with the fellow third years as Ennoshita wilts under the sheer number of questions thrown at him about his supposed affair with Terushima.

---

“He has no idea, does he.” Yamaguchi states, having waited with the third years and Tsukishima for the captain to show up only to bare witness to him be accosted by a group of boys. They can’t tell for sure what’s being said only that Ennoshita seems to be surprised, hands up in mock surrender before a relaxed, more apologetic pose takes over, the tell-tale sign of nervousness as he scratches the back of his neck.

He’d always been handsome, Tanaka thinks, it just became more obvious over the end of year break, bewildered as to how in the span of a month he had seemed to bloom in confidence and lose the stubborn bit of baby fat that clung to his cheeks and body. It’s bothersome, annoying really, how Ennoshita believed through this metamorphosis that he’s still something not worth looking twice at, Ennoshita haven’t never stated it but it was all too clear from the way he confusedly pointed out how he couldn’t understand why their fellow students seemed to linger on him.

“Also oblivious to Tanaka’s pining.” Nishinoya adds on a little too cheerfully, the libero cackling with laughter as he used Tsukishima as a shield as Tanaka attempted to grab him before running behind Ennoshita as the captain finally joined them with a humoured confused look. “Save me, captain! He’s gone feral.”

“Oh please, Noya, he’s a big puppy at worst.” Ennoshita remarks, giving the vice captain a pat on the head as he passed by, ducking past Narita to get to the gym doors before unlocking them, throwing Yamaguchi the keys so he could unlock the changing rooms with a smile. “Go get changed and help me set up the gym before the actually feral children get here.”

Tanaka is the first one back, finding Ennoshita in the middle of setting up the nets, silently thankful that the rest of the team had shown up just as he was leaving the locker room, giving him a good 5 minutes alone with Ennoshita before they were interrupted by each coach, Yachi or someone from the team announcing their arrival with utter dramatics and a slammed open door. “So, what did they want?” He asks, holding the net steady for Ennoshita as he tied it, somewhat distracted by the look of concentration on the others face. Furrowed brows and a slightly screwed mouth, he’d be ridiculous if he thought, even for a moment, that it was adorable.

“I think he was trying to confess his feelings but it came out sounding like he was asking me to marry him.” Ennoshita mused, checking how secure the knots were before moving to the other side and repeating the process there. “Rejected him, was informed he would win my heart before I graduated and his friends were very enthusiastic about this prospect.” Ennoshita seems strangely fond over this, though as to why Tanaka did not know.

“Do we have a name for your future beloved?”

“Oh, heavens no, never told me it in the time it took him to propose to me and declare he’d win me over.” Ennoshita laughed, Tanaka finding himself unable to not join in, finishing with the first net before starting work on the second one. “I named him mini Ryuu though, he reminded me of you with Kiyoko during the majority of first year.”

He flushes at that, muttering shut up under his breath and earning another laugh, wishing he had the confidence he had with Kiyoko to approach Ennoshita with the same enthusiasm. But they’re different, the same yet different. Kiyoko was an obsession, an undignified act of teenage love that he never bothered to subdue, taking some form of pleasure out of every rejection. He had the same thing with Ennoshita but he kept it close, kept it more subtle, for no other reason than the uncertainty of what would happen when he ultimately got rejected because, for the first time, he sees no weird joy in it.

“Are you planning on growing your hair out?” He ask, tying the last knot, the first few members of the team stumbling into the gym, Kageyama snapping something at Hinata and the first years as the setter is more or less shoved into the gym by the rowdy bunch. Tanaka blinks, reaching up to touch his hair, feeling fluff instead of the usual buzzcut, wondering when the last time he’d asked Saeko to cut it for him even was.

“Nah, I keep forgetting to ask Saeko to cut it for me.” Tanaka shrugs in his response, tugging at his hair gently and contemplating if he should cut it off or not, the thought of Ennoshita’s hand on it earlier halting his train of thought far too quickly for his liking. He knows it’s a crush but it was just a touch, an innocent if not somewhat patronising pat to the head, it shouldn’t have this affect on him. Shouldn’t make him wonder how it would feel if they were running through it instead.

No.

He wasn’t dwelling on the thought of calloused hands weaving through it when he’s had a stressful day, it being ruffled with amused affection whenever he was sulking over something trivial. Of fingers gripping it tight and pulling when he…

NO.

“Sorry, what was that?”

“I said you should keep it longer; it looks good on you.”

He was never cutting his hair again.

---

If Tanaka sits closer to him during the study session, neither of them mention it, Ennoshita leaning in to Tanaka’s side to read over what he’d written and smiling. “You got them all right, Ryuu.” He’s not sure when he switched to using just his first name to refer to him, believing it to be around the time the member of the baseball team more or less vowed to win his heart by years end. It seemed to make sense to do as much, he had referred to the kid as mini Ryuu as opposed to mini Tanaka after all.

“It just makes more sense when you explain it.” Tanaka mumbles, scratching the back of his head bashfully, Ennoshita letting out a hum in response before looking up and at the ace when he feels eyes on him. Oh, how had he not realised how close they were? His lips were so painfully close and if he were a stronger man he’d lean forward and kiss him but, for all the confidence he had gained between the end of his second year and the start of his third, he’s not confident enough to close that gap and find out just how unrequited his crush was.

He’s all too happy to let Tanaka take the lead as he takes the initiative, warm fingers sliding between his perpetually cold ones, eyes flicking down to their linked hands before back up to the ace, swallowing thickly. Maybe he should, maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t as unreachable as he first thought, so close to kissing him when a door slams open.

The distance feels like miles, the lingering warmth on his hand from where Tanaka was holding offering only little comfort when the ace refused to look at him. He wants to ask, wants to ask what it meant, why he’d looked at him like that, if what he was feeling and what he assumed Tanaka was feeling actually aligned and it wasn’t just a fool’s folly to long for something more than friendship.

“Hey, Ryuu! Did you-” Saeko makes her presence known with a shout and the door opening, looking between the pair and going silent. Did she know? He knew Tanaka’s shared everything. Meals, food, lesser secrets about crushes and friendship dramas. Was she aware of whatever was going on between the pair of them? The panic begins to build up in his chest as he continues to overthink the situation only to let out a choked noise as he’s grabbed by the elder Tanaka and pulled to his feet.

It’s a similar situation to Terushima, Ennoshita feeling more and more like he’s being stared down by a predator only it’s welcomed this time, Saeko gripping his chin and observing his face before she turns to look at Ryuunosuke who seems to be on edge more than Ennoshita was. “I know you said he got hot over break but damn, Chika, you’re fuckin gorgeous.”

“Umm…thank you?” He doesn’t take compliments well, he never has, laughing nervously as he’s spun, her hands gripping his shoulders, feeling like he’s being presented to Ryuunosuke as a prize that he had just won. I know you said he got hot over break. What did that mean? Was that a Ennoshita thing or a Tanaka thing? Ennoshita focusing on his teammates face, noticing the familiar look he got whenever he felt Saeko was about to embarrass him.

“You gotta snap him up before someone else does, look at those cheek bones.” He feels the nails of Saeko’s right hand brush against his skin and he shudders despite himself, face still enflamed from the shared moment before and the endless compliments. “That jaw line, those sleepy brown eyes of yours. You are still single, right?”

“I…yeah?”

He chooses to not mention the plethora of confessions he had received the past few months, looking at Ryuu in hopes of a rescue only to find him shooting a look brimming with annoyed daring, baiting Saeko into continuing her commentary. Ennoshita knows the look well, one he’s been on the receiving end of from his own little brother whenever he learnt something he shouldn’t and threatened to hold it over him for the foreseeable future.

Saeko just grins, dangerous, like she is aware of something Ennoshita should be, hands clapping his shoulders, giving them a firm squeeze before she lets go and leaves. He watches he go, a thumbs up thrown in as a goodbye before she closes the door much softer than she had when she opened it. There’s a tension in the room, Ennoshita fumbling with his fingers as the silence leaves him to focus on those words.

I know you said he got hot over break. You’re fucking gorgeous.

You said he got hot. You’re fucking gorgeous.

You’re hot. You’re fucking gorgeous.

He’s ashamed as the voice morphs from Saeko’s to Ryuunosuke’s, the constant repetition of ‘you’re fucking gorgeous’ setting his cheeks aflame and his heart beating faster than a drum. He should leave, shouldn’t he? His confidence having melted away, Ennoshita feeling once again like a first year, unable to find his voice and on the brink of panicking as he over thought every possibility now laid out before him.

“Chikara,” his voice is soft, all to calming to hear, Ennoshita looking down at the other only to be met with a face of mild confusion and concern. “I’m stuck with problem ten.” Settling back down, Ennoshita goes back to helping, hoping for any distraction from the thought of Tanaka finding him attractive and the growing disappointment that he wasn’t brave enough to take Tanaka’s hand is his own again.

---

Its never brought up again but it changes their dynamic, Tanaka meeting him at lunch time, the welcome relief from being bothered by strangers with confessions. The hilarious moment of Tanaka fighting with his miniature self until Ennoshita dragged Tanaka away by the hand, the younger boy by someone Ennoshita guessed to also be on his team. It’s never brought up again but Tanaka doesn’t shake off his hand until its time to eat, despite the teasing looks sent his way by the other third years.

They sit together on the coach to practice matches, Ennoshita almost always waking up with his head on Tanaka’s shoulder, Tanaka’s head leaning against his and hands not quite touching but it always feels a little too intimate for just friends. Its how they end up travelling to the Miyagi summer camp, waking up as they pull onto the Shiratorizawa grounds only to find their fingers linked this time, it making up for the lack of head resting against his.

It’s three days before something snaps. Ennoshita in the middle of talking rotation with coach Ukai, mentioning his own anxiety in suddenly being thrust onto the court during an important match, making a joke at both Tanaka’s and Daichi’s expense as he brings up the Wakutani South match the year before. He excuses himself as he hears the arguing behind him, sighing at the sight of Tanaka and Noya shouting at a group of younger players, Karasuno’s own first years seeming to only encourage their behaviour.

Daichi had made this seem too easy, Yamaguchi was going to despise him for leaving this team in his capable hands when the year was through, Ennoshita feeling a migraine beginning to build as he made his way over. Where was Yahaba or Shirabu? He’d pray for even Futakuchi to show up to offer at least some form of assistance in dealing with the would be fight between their teams.

He more than well aware he’s not as intimidating as Daichi, Kenma having pointed this out when the teams met for a practise match a month prior, Ennoshita having simply laughed in response and returned the favour by pointing out that Kenma didn’t quite carry the same presence that Kuroo did. Any remaining tension between them had dissipated as soon as they had spotted Tanaka and Taketora, both huddled in a corner whispering conspiratorially, matching statements of “idiots” slipping out as sighs.

He’s not as intimidating but he can still command presence, hands clamping down on the shoulders of Tanaka and Nishinoya, squeezing tightly as he smiled a little too softly at the gathering who seemed to slowly sink under the weight of it. “I believe you were all returning to your teams, yes?” His tone leaves no room for argument, at least that’s what he hopes, watching with baited breath as they disperse, waiting until they had gone before finally allowing himself to relax.

“They were-”

“You don’t need to tell me.” Ennoshita sighs, cutting off Noya, already knowing that whatever reason they had to get into the fight was, it didn’t need explaining. He trusted his team enough for that. “Just…Just try not to do it again, please.”

---

It’s late on a Tuesday when everything is finally addressed, thirteen days since the incident in Tanaka’s home and thirteen days since they’ve danced around the subject, Ennoshita looking up when he feels someone sit next to him on the bench, surprised to find Tanaka sat there but not at all finding it unwelcomed. “What brings you out here?” Ennoshita asks, dog earring the page he was on and closing his book, cheek resting against his brought up knees and his hand on offer on the chance the Ace wanted to hold it.

“Was looking for the love of my life.” Tanaka states, voice subdued and its unsettling, too used to the confident and boisterous side of him that bellowed across courts and ripped his shirt off in victory. Tanaka is loud, headstrong, a focal point made flesh, he didn’t do quiet moments often, didn’t let his voice drop so low in volume it could barely be considered a whisper. It’s strange but he loves it all the same, a small selfish part of him wishing he’d be the only one to ever here the other like this.

“Did you find them?” He doesn’t try to hide the hope on his voice, too wrapped up in the idea that he might just be what Tanaka was into, be good enough to be the object of his affections even if just for a brief time. He had gained confidence since becoming the Captain, had grown into himself and learnt to become more assertive but the other was able to reduce him back to the shy mess he had been when he was younger like Tanaka was flames and he was made of matches.

Hands find each other, cold and pale meeting warm and tan, the grip loose enough to be comfortable yet firm enough to know it couldn’t be broken that easily. He would have been happy with that, cheeks flushing pink as a hand gently pried his cheek from his knees, calloused thumb brushing over his cheek before lips meet.

It’s brief but that’s all it needs to be, first kiss pressed to the corner of his lips before the second one captures them, the grip on his hand tightening briefly as they pull apart, Ennoshita admiring the flustered look of Tanaka’s cheeks, knowing full well he was in a similar state if not worse.

In his fantasies, he’d pictured Tanaka making any confession into a big affair, loud and unabashed, proclaiming his love for all of Japan to hear like he had with Kiyoko at any given moment. He’d thoroughly embarrass Ennoshita, grinning proudly without a care in the world. He hadn’t pictured it would be quietly, sat on a bench by the school gardens at Shiratorizawa, a fond smile tugging at his lips as he realises that he wouldn’t have had it any other way.

“Yeah, I think I did.”

#ennotana #ennoshita chikara #tanaka ryuunosuke #haikyuu #tanaenno #karasuno #narita kazuhito #kinoshita hisashi #nishinoya yu #tanaka saeko #terushima yuuji #rating: T #yachi hitoka

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neonthewrite · 3 years

Text

Washed Up Winchesters 6

Our heroes have a perfectly normal chat with a perfectly normal citizen about perfectly normal things. Progress is progress!

Cowritten with @nightmares06, the writer behind the @brothersapart multiverse!

( 1 ) ( 2 ) ( 3 ) ( 4 ) ( 5 ) -6- ( 7 ) ( 8 )

Story Tag

Read Time ~10 minutes

~~~~~

Dean, his natural fear of heights overridden by the obstacle currently in their path, leaned slightly off the edge of Jacob's hand. The perspective gave him a far better view of the authorities compared to normal. Up there, they wouldn't be able to take him into custody unless Jacob handed them over, which helped his bluster.

Taking out his stash of ID cards, Dean chose one at random and waved it in the air. There was no way the cop could see what was on the card, so he didn't bother looking at which one, or which name it was. Not to mention, he hadn’t bothered looking into any Lilliputian forms of ID, so there wasn’t much hope it would pass close scrutiny.

"We're on official business! He has a permit to be in this area, so long as we're with him to supervise."

"Dean," Sam muttered, just loud enough to be heard by the people on Jacob's hand, "that card is only worth shit in Blefuscu, what do you think you're doing?"

"Just play along," Dean whispered out the side of his mouth, keeping the friendly smile on his face and his eyes trained on the cop to avoid arousing suspicions. "This'll work."

Chase grinned. He hadn't missed how many different IDs Dean had hidden away. Monster hunting apparently came with some perks.

Despite Minnie nudging at his shoulder to keep him back, he peered over the side of Jacob's hand as well and waved jovially. "He's right, officer! I'm helping supervise, too!"

From so high up, it was hard to see the cop's expression, but they couldn't miss him shaking his head. He crossed his arms and frowned up at them all, trying to be as unflinching as he could in the shadow of a giant. How that kid could stand to ride around so high up, no one would ever know. "Alright, Lisong, just don't dawdle. And if there's one complaint about property damage ..."

Dean shoved his ID back into his jacket. "That's the least of his worries," he grumbled under his breath, while waving towards the officer with a cheerful, 'nothing-to-see-here' attitude.

"In a few hours, this will hopefully all be behind us, and we'll be out of town," Sam commented back. "You'll never have to deal with these police again."

“That's a nice change."

Jacob pursed his lips, but he couldn’t hope to join the hushed conversation. The cop would hear him no matter how he tried to whisper. He sent the small man a tense smile as the officer stalked to the side of the road, probably grumbling all the while. They might have gained a tag-along in their little escapade, at least until they could figure out where to go next.

Hopefully not further into town; Jacob was self-conscious enough.

He didn’t take a single step until he was sure no one was in front of him. While he could step over people with ease, it was an uncomfortable thought. He arrived at an intersection of two roads, and from there the shop was supposedly just around the corner.

Jacob knelt down in the crossroads instead to give himself room. “I’ll, uh. Wait here. By the lamp post, so you don’t miss me.” He smirked faintly at the thought of them losing track of him somehow.

"Got it!" Dean called over his shoulder, raising a hand to let Jacob know they agreed.

Sam hurried to keep pace with Dean, fidgeting with his own hidden knife to make sure it was ready to be drawn at the drop of a pin. They couldn't be sure of anything with the shapeshifters missing, and creatures like that often took the time to turn anyone that was potentially dangerous. With the guns sodden and out of the equation, they had to rely on the silver knives they both carried.

“You guys have got to hang out at the house and tell me some stories when this is all over,” Chase said.

Minnie hummed skeptically. “Or maybe they should avoid giving you ideas.”

"If you have pie at that place of yours, you've got a deal," Dean said to Chase, focusing on what was, to him, the more important detail.

Chase grinned as he hopped down from Jacob’s hand and followed. As far as bribes went, that wouldn’t be tough to manage at all. “We can probably arrange that,” he mused.

Minnie was already rolling her eyes when he glanced her way. “Neither of us can bake,” she reminded him.

“Well there’s bakeries,” he shot right back.

Their bickering brought the group to the shop front right as a short, stocky man stepped out of it. He was dressed quite a bit nicer than most of the people they’d managed to interview back at the docks. There was a messenger bag slung over one shoulder, and a key in the other hand. As he turned back towards the door, he noticed the four people approaching.

Right after that, he noticed the giant kneeling not even a block away at the street corner. His mouth opened in surprise and the key dropped to the ground with a faint clink.

Sam smoothly stepped up, stooping down to pick up the key. “Careful, you might lose it,” he said as he held it out politely. He didn’t show any unease at the fact that there was a giant nearby, or even act like it was unusual in the slightest. In his experience, people responded best when they thought the situation was under complete control.

Without missing a beat, Dean was right next to Sam, matching his brother’s attitude in professionalism this time. “We’re actually looking for someone around here. You wouldn’t happen to know a Mr. Black, wouldja?”

The man glanced down at the key in Sam’s hand, then up at the brothers, and then past them at where Chase and Minnie waited patiently. As if following everyone’s lead, he didn’t look past them at the giant again, but he was flustered all the same by the oddness of the situation. He sputtered a moment before taking the key, and then squared his shoulders to convey that he, too, was having a very normal chat.

“I hope so,” he answered. “That’s me. What can I do for you?”

Sam smiled. It had worked like a charm. "We're actually looking for someone."

"A bunch of someones," Dean interrupted, ignoring the look Sam sent him.

It only took Sam a second to recover from the unexpected interruption. "They came into port today on a ship that you bought, and we were supposed to grab a ride back when they left. You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you...?"

Black’s brow furrowed and he sighed tersely. “Afraid you mighta been misled, boys,” he admitted. “I bought a ship that sailed in today, but it won’t be sailing out for at least two weeks yet.”

He groaned thoughtfully. By his fidgeting, he didn’t enjoy giving Sam and Dean apparent bad news. “Pretty sure I heard one of their lot mention checking out some open pasture, maybe for work? If you wanna take it up with them why they sold the ship out from under ya.”

“Open pasture?” Chase chimed in, frowning. “But no one’s hiring new hands right now.”

Black shrugged and his eyes widened in an apologetic expression. “Wish I knew more, kid. I’ve got a lot of things on my end right now. Blefuscan ruffians did a number on that boat, it’s a real mess.”

“Wonder how that could have happened,” Dean said dryly, then winced.

“That’s a darn shame,” Sam lamented, trying to look natural after stomping Dean’s foot into submission. “We won’t have a ride back without them.”

“That said, they still owe us, since we paid up front for it,” Dean said, edging next to Black. “Did you happen to catch where the pasture they were looking at is? We have a lot of catching up to do.”

The merchant’s face scrunched into a thoughtful frown. “Check north of town,” he determined. “I mean, if you’re up for a hike. Heard from some other business owners that the land up there wasn’t selling. Past all the hills and the like, it’s too hard to get there and back quickly.”

Chase grinned, and even Minnie smirked. Without saying anything, he nudged Dean in the side with an elbow.

Dean stifled the rising temptation to elbow Chase back. He risked knocking the kid over. "Right! I don't think that'll be a problem," he said. Unlike the townsfolk, they had a giant that could get them to and from any place outside of the town.

Turning to leave, Dean caught Chase's elbow by a hand, dragging the kid with him.

Sam smiled politely to the businessman. "Thank you for your help," he said, then he had to dash to keep up with the others.

~~~

Back at the street corner, Jacob was almost exactly where they’d left him. At some point during their short interview, the policeman from before had decided he was too close to the sidewalk and had shooed him further into the middle of the road. It didn’t bother Jacob at all, and it seemed to mollify the little guy, so there he waited by the time he noticed the others wandering back towards him.

He grinned at the sight of Chase, dragged along backwards by Dean’s steady guidance. It was anyone’s guess what he might have said, but he’d probably earned it.

“Hope you know where to go next, ‘cause I think I’m overstaying my welcome here,” he greeted, already offering a hand for the tiny group.

"They can deal," Dean said, continuing his inexorable walk dragging Chase along until he reached the center of Jacob's palm to wait for the others. "We've got a new lead to follow."

Sam and Minnie weren't far behind the pair, following along but giving Dean a wide berth until they were sure he was done.

"The directions are out past the hills," Sam informed Jacob. "Sounds like you won't have to worry about any angry townsfolk out there. In fact, it doesn't sound like the area is easily accessible at all."

Chase finally managed to wrench his arm out of Dean’s grasp in time for the others to settle on the giant hand and for the whole surface to shift beneath their feet. He’d gotten so used to hitching a ride on Jacob’s hand that he hardly even swayed as they all rose up steadily. “Won’t be an issue for you, dude. It’s only hidden away for us non-giant types.”

Jacob smirked. His other hand joined the first to offer them all more stability as he lifted them farther and farther from the street below. “Almost had me worried about that for a second,” he teased. “How helpful can I be if I can’t at least getcha where you need to go?”

Chase waved a hand dismissively. “You’re already a hero in this story, don’t worry about that.”

"Maybe you'll get the chance to be a hero next," Sam said reassuringly, giving Chase an encouraging grin.

"What am I, chopped liver?" Dean complained.

"More like the damsel in distress!"

#mywriting #collab #washed up winchesters #chase in lilliput au #chase lisong #minnie lisong #jacob andris #dean winchester #sam winchester #supernatural fanfiction #gullivers travels fanfiction #g/t #g/t handheld

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mama--moth · 3 years

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Hello,

Nice to meet you. I am an artist and aspiring writer who has an original character named Martha.

Martha is my oc I made in 2017 at 2:08 AM on June 11th. She was made as a joke for a shitpost fanfic for tf2. I didn't even play tf2, I just thought it would be funny. I drew a quick doodle of her on my phone. At the time my art skills were bad.

I didn't expect to ever use her again, since I deleted the shitpost almost immediately and didn't think about it. Sometime later, I eventually got into a bunch of different fandoms and decided to make an original character to weave into the world. I decided to use Martha and over the years fleshed her out and incorporated her into many fandoms. She is my only official oc. I have a few side ocs that I used as a way to build Martha's character.

Ever since I saw the character Lady Dimitrescu, something about her gave me a Martha vibe and people also started to come to me saying they looked similar. So I shipped them. At first it was as a joke to be like "haha yall say they look alike so ill draw them together" and then I actually got more invested in it and now Resident Evil Martha is one of the most fleshed out versions of my character, and in such a short time.

Forever and Always is the first actually literary work I have ever actually done that isn't a research paper that was forced onto me by overbearing teachers.

I have never posted my original character on any other platform other than Amino, which hosts a bunch of communities dedicated to different fandoms. I draw martha sometimes multiple times a day, yet I never share her. I am nervous to post her due to art theives and people who will take my art.

I am willing to give this a chance. I also post Forever and Always on Ao3

Here is resident evil marthas backstory:

Martha-much like Alcina- was born into nobility. That is how she met alcina when they were very young children. Due to Alcinas blood disease and marthas alzheimers, they did not attend public or private institutions. They were taught together by a private tutor.

As they got older, they grew closer and closer. They played in the woods and rode horses together and by their teenage years, were in a secret romance together. As years progressed, neither of their ailments improved, but unfortunately worsened. Their families turned to a woman claiming to have the solution to their pleas and the girls were given to the miracle woman.

They were both infected with the Cadou and subsequently mutated. Both women reacted differently to the false cure, but both obtained immortality, regenerative abilities, the ability to mutate into a giant creature, increased size, and the need to consume flesh and blood to survive. While they both also had their own individual abilities, Martha's regenerative ability was not as strong, but it was still very effective. Alcina still suffered from the blood disease and martha still suffered from alzheimers, but the alzheimers was particularly suppressed and over time seemed to be less of an issue.

Both women were now indebted to Mother Miranda and served her as needed. The women did not have an official ceremony, but they did become wives and were eventually given daughters by miranda and through an experiment. They cycled through staff and traded in wine.

Martha had always been skeptical of Mother Miranda. Seeing her fail in her dearch of finding a vessel for eva and just using the semi-successful experiments to do her bidding made martha upset. Now that she has Rose, what would happen to all of them if she succeeded? Unfortunately, she wouldnt get to see.

After ethan killed the first daughter, she chased him through the cellar after he stumbled upon her mutilating some poor unfortunate soul. He would manage to get away by using a mine to distract her and also send a wall on top on her, temporarily knocking her out. Alcina would find her after finding her daughter and free martha and take her to their room to rest while she and her two remaining daughters would deal with ethan. Martha would wake up to find yet another daughter was murdered and stalked the halls. Then ethan killed the last one and caused alcina to mutate.

She would be in a tower near where ethan fought alcina. During the whole fight she would be screaming to alcina, begging her to stop before she got hurt. Her pleas fell on deaf ears and alcina persisted, and was murdered. Martha quickly went to the bottom of the tower alcina fell down and completely disregarded ethan and went straight for her wifes remains, wailing in agony as she had lost everyone and everything that mattered to her. She would not stop weeping and mourning until she finally retrieved the Dagger of Death's Flowers and returned to her wifes remains, and plunged the dagger into her own stomach, suppressing her mutation and falling to the ground on her wifes remains, dead.

I hope you enjoyed this introduction to me and my oc. Now here is some art of the big lesbians

DO NOT USE MY ART. AT ALL.

DO NOT USE MY ART AT ALL.

#resident evil #alcina dimitrescu #alcina x oc #martha sinclaire

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party-of-rpg-muses · 3 years

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A Look At Stuff You Probably Never Heard Of: E.V.O.: The Theory of Evolution

Oh, boy. This one is something special. And in case this name seems familiar, trust me, we’ll go into that later. This may be one of the oldest games I’ve ever taken a look at. Today, we’re taking a look at... E.V.O.: The Theory of Evolution!

E.V.O.: The Theory of Evolution was a Japanese-only JRPG game released in 1990 for the NEC PC-9801, a Japanese-only home computer. There, it was known as “46 Okunen Monogatari ~The Shinka Ron~”, or “4.6 Billion Year Story: The Theory of Evolution”. It was developed by the Almanic Corporation with Takashi Yoneda as the head director, who also designed the famous ActRaiser game for the SNES/Super Famicom. And Enix (yes, the same Enix that would later merge with Squaresoft to become Square Enix) was the publisher.

The game itself is a fictional story based heavily around evolution, but with science-fiction elements.

The intro goes over the creation of life, from the Big Bang to multi-cellular organism. At the game’s proper beginning, the player takes control of a Thelodus, an ancient jawless fish that primarily inhabited the sea floor, having been found by other Thelodus. After exploring for a while, a bright flash sends the other ancient sea-dwelling creatures into a panic, some even turning violent, as the Elder kicks you out, believing you had something to do with it.

Once that happens, the 4.6 Billion story begins. The player also meets with a mysterious woman named Gaia, who says the player has a destiny and will be keeping watch throughout the ages.

The Theory of Evolution is a top-down game with the player moving in four cardinal directions and when encountering another creature, a turn-based battle commences. In battle, there is a normal attack, Special (which has different abilities such as Defend and Recover, but other such as Stalk, which can stun an enemy, Jump to lower enemy defense, and a few damaging abilities), and an Escape ability.

As the player wins battles, they gain EVO Genes, which are used to upgrade your stats. Endurance increases defense, Attack increases power, Wisdom teaches new Special moves, and Vitality increases health. And upon reaching the limit of any one, the player will evolve and change into a different animal, moving either down or to the side of the Evolution Chart.

It is also worth noting that it’s impossible to move up the chart and there are several made-up creatures, such as the Theriarodon in the image above, which the game acknowledges to be made up solely for the game.

The game itself is divided into 5 discs, with the first having the intro cutscene and is needed to start the game, always being inserted into the first slot. There’s also quite a bit of music, ranging from upbeat and cheerful to mysterious and uncertain with each era having their own theme. But there are also some tracks that are repeated, like when entering a strange area or the battle music.

Now that we’ve reached the end, it’s time for the Final Recommendation: Never Let Go Of It||Get It||Hold Onto It||Try It||Consider It||Stay Away From It

Okay, let me knock a few things out of the way. In case it wasn’t obvious, this game is very similar to the SNES game, E.V.O.: Search for Eden, a side-scrolling game where you eat animals to evolve in something akin to a competition to evolve and reach Eden. However, they’re both developed by the same company, with Theory of Evolution coming out 2 years before Search for Eden. The development team for Search for Eden was also comprised of younger staff who wanted to make things more “interesting”.

And no doubt you’ve noticed some things that don’t fit with history and evolution, such as the “Evolution Rush System Control” from the second image, or the Neokawamatepis from the fourth. The game occasionally delves into science-fiction. In the game, it’s largely out of nowhere, but the manual gives a detailed timeline of the events from the Big Bang to the start of the game, with you as a Thelodus. Some of the images can be seen here. The game also has the likes of Lucifer as a major antagonist.

And yes, I used an emulator with a translation ROM. The project was done by a group known as “46 OkuMen”, who translated the game from Japanese to English and released the ROM online for anyone to use.

As for the ROM itself, everything seems to be in order, but there are issues with movement. As in you move very quickly, making it hard to make precise movements. It can be difficult to walk down a narrow path and you’ll have to make several attempts to line yourself up. And depending on the creature you evolve into, you could move even faster, making things even harder. And I couldn’t find a way to slow down my movements, only the text speed.

The game also possesses somewhat of a difficulty curve as after each chapter, you’re back at the bottom and have to work your way up. Thing is, in the first chapter, the ocean, there are initially two creatures; jellyfish and other Thelodus. But the Thelodus are way too strong for you, so you’ll have to fight jellyfish and avoid the other Thelodus until you can increase your stats. I also want to mention that there are times where you have to evolve to progress, like evolving into a fish that hand handle the depths of the ocean or fresh water.

Not to mention, as I stated, you’re back at the bottom at the start of each chapter. That also means you lose the Special moves you gained in the previous chapter, with the exception of Recover and occasionally Defend.

Another issue is that things are automatically done when you walk up to something; fighting an enemy, talking to an NPC, etc. However, it can be pretty easy to get locked in. Near the end of the game, you enter the home of Carnivorous Primates, who will repeat the same lines over and over again. And it’s not uncommon for one to start speaking right after he finished talking to you, especially if he’s going in the direction you’re standing.

And finally, there are a number of “bad endings”, attained when evolving too much in a certain direction; such as Endurance while already on the far right of the chart will cause a bad ending. But there are other ways, such as drinking from a disturbing pond until you evolve into a Slime or accepting Lucifer’s deal, causing you to become a demon.

Also, there is something I have to mention because it’s VERY important! There will be times where you’ll have to go over terrain that will damage you, like desert terrain or water. As you move, you’ll take damage and the screen will flash green. And that’s every step you take, so the screen will flash rapidly several times a second. So if you’re going to play the game, BE CAREFUL as there is a danger of epilepsy. If you want to play, turn the brightness of your computer down and don’t play in the day.

All in all? I say give it a try. I consider it to be a fairly enjoyable experience, despite the issues. And with that all said and done, I’ll see you all next month.

#46 Okunen Monogatari #outofexp #A Look At Stuff You Probably Never Heard Of

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quarantined-with-bucky · 4 years

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Shopping

Bodyguard!Bucky x Reader

Request: Hi! May I ask for a hc or scenario in wich Bucky falls for the reader who has a "spoiled brat" stereotype...u know? Like a Regina George from Mean Girls type of attitude, Maybe the reader is the daughter of someone important who Bucky needs to protect idk I thought it could be quite fun, anyway...loved your writing so much in "Dichotomy" ❤

Words: ~ 4,500

Summary: Bucky’s paid to be your bodyguard and you’re, well, kind of a bitch.

Warnings: None! For once ;)

...

There is three things men want in life.

1. They want to see if they can fuck you.

2. They want to see if they can fuck you over.

3. They want to get you out the fucking picture.

That was simply a fact of life. It was especially accurate in the world you grew up in: the world of powerful men, fast cars, vast mansions, and extravagant wardrobes. There was something about everyone’s cut-throat attitude that also seemed to drag along these luxuries. It was all about showing off: who had the most expensive car, whose house was bigger – whose wife was hotter.

This is the climate you grew up in: constant competition, envious friends, malicious enemies. There was a certain image you were expected to maintain, so you did exactly that. Not only did you have the weight of one day taking over your father’s company on your shoulders, you had the paparazzi stalking your every move. There wasn’t a single moment of peace in your life. You couldn’t go to the mall or the grocery store without at least one picture of you showing up on Daily Mail.

You’d grown up with it and, for the most part, you didn’t have to do things like that anyway. There was always someone to do those menial tasks for you.

Until you moved out of your parents’ house. You finally graduated college; a twenty-something kid finally ready to jump into the world on your own two feet. You were eagerly awaiting your move into your New York City apartment – a swanky two-bedroom on the top floor of a building in Soho.

Everything was going swimmingly well until you had an altercation with paparazzi. It was hard to navigate the narrow streets and sidewalks of the city, and as you were meeting your friend at a restaurant, you found it was a little too easy for the cameramen to push you around on the street. However, while you were thinking more along the lines of a restraining order against them, your father had other ideas.

“No way,” you interrupted, holding your hands up to your father. “That’s not happening.”

He raised his eyebrows at you. “It is happening. Unless you want this to happen again.” He tossed the stack of newspapers onto your dining table, the photo of you on the front page sliding across the table towards you. The title read “(Y/N) Falters – Will She Fumble Daddy’s Company?” You bit the inside of your cheek, the photo immortalized you trying to push past the group of people photographing your every step, the bright flashes causing you to hold your hands in front of your eyes. “This won’t be happening again.”

…

That’s how you met Bucky. At first, it was nice to have him around. He shook your hand once as he introduced himself. It was months before he even said anything else to you. He stood posted up in the doorway of every room you walked into. He wore a smart looking suit ever day, the top few buttons of his shirt undone to show off his tanned muscles underneath.

He walked you to restaurants, taking the lead, keeping the paparazzi at a far distance away from you. He followed you around shopping, carrying your Gucci, Dior, and Balenciaga bags to your car for you. God, it was a dream. What was even dreamier were his eyes. Before anyone approached you to speak with you, he stopped them, turning his head to look at you for your nod of approval before letting them past. And holy fuck those two seconds of fleeting eye contact made you absolutely melt. You almost started scheduling unnecessary appointments into your schedule just so he could face you again for confirmation. You stared back at him as seductively as possible, eyes half lidded, glossy, staring back at him and tilting your head in the slightest nod.

That was the only time he ever acknowledged you. That, and when he opened your car door for you. He never said much – if anything – at all. But his presence was so demanding: his shoulders were so broad, his chest constantly puffed out, his jaw clenched, and eyebrows narrowed in challenge. It took every bit of willpower not to jump his bones.

…

You had a certain mentality when it came to work. There was a certain image to be portrayed. You always dressed to the nines: a fitted suit, usually Balmain or Chanel, complete with gold jewelry and tall heels. Your makeup was done every day: a neutral pallet, something that unsuspecting peers would assume to be natural. Your hair was always perfectly in place: either cascading smoothly down your back or pinned neatly into a bun. Not only were you running the company, but you were also the face of the company.

You walked around with your head held high, shoulders back, and with determination in your step. People watched you as you walked down the hallway. Maybe some in admiration, others envy, even a few with desire. You always heard their whispers, though.

Bucky walked in-toe with you always remaining a cool two steps behind you; you could feel his gaze burning into the back of his head. You entered your office, Bucky taking his usual post by the door. You plopped down in your large leather chair, preparing yourself for your meeting.

Your morning got progressively worse as the meetings progressed, people not cooperating, work not being done, no conflicts getting resolved. As you last meeting ended, and the particularly patronizing man left your office, you couldn’t hold back muttering a “fucking prick” as the door shut behind him.

Bucky pinched is lips together, holding back a smirk. You reclined in your chair, watching him regain his poise quickly, eyes not moving from the fixed position on the wall in front of him. “You know, James,” you spoke up, instantly getting his attention. “That was my last meeting today; you can sit, if you’d like.” You gestured to the seating area across the room.

He nodded in thanks, strutting across the room and sitting on the black couch in front of you. All you wanted was to join him on the couch. The things you could do to him on that couch – the things he could do to you on that couch. “You can call me Bucky,” he stated, reclining against the back, legs spreading open a tad bit.

You nodded stiffly and bit your bottom lip, unable to tear your eyes away from his splayed posture. “Bucky,” you whispered, testing his name on your tongue. And, damn, it tasted good.

You snapped yourself out of your fixation, pulling your laptop in front of you, pretending to work as you couldn’t get that image out of your head. The face that you could still see his propped-up figure over the top of your laptop screen; his eyes had not drifted from your person.

…

Your were temporarily blinded, gripping the back of Bucky’s jacket as he pushed through the crowd of people, shoving open the door to the lobby of your apartment. Calling the elevator, he watched as you smoothed down the ends of your hair, trying to rub the light spots out of your eyes as best you could without smudging mascara all over your face. He ushered you in once the doors opened, holding a hand lightly to your waist.

You dropped your back against the shiny elevator walls, crossing your arms over your chest and staring at the reflection on the wall in front of you. You looked tired, makeup wearing off under your eyes, purple circles under your eyes becoming prominent; a few flyaways framed your face, curling and unruly. The doors opened and you pushed your way through before Bucky. You shoved open the apartment door, throwing your purse on the table, viciously kicking of your heels. You heard Bucky shut the door softly and he paused before entering the kitchen behind you.

Today had been effectively one of the worst days of your life. Work was terrible: your day was run with meetings and disrespectful colleagues, bulldozing over all your ideas and suggestions; it rained during lunch, completely ruining the Coach heels you were wearing to attend the business luncheon; afterwards was much worse. You were highlighted in the issue of Forbes Magazine. You’d been waiting for this for months: you’d done multiple interviews, had photoshoots, the whole nine yards. You were excited for the world to see the underlying factors of what made you you; for them to finally recognize not only your past academic achievements, but also all you have accomplished thus far with the company, for them to see that you were capable – qualified – to run this company.

Boy were you hopeful.

You were met, in fact, with quite the opposite.

Waves upon waves of criticism washed upon you after the release. You were met with all kinds of backtalk: everything from you inheriting the company, to being accepted into college because of your dads’ money, to “stick to makeup, honey.” People began commenting on how they thought you walked all over people, how you rarely seemed friendly in the workplace, how you “used men.”

It couldn’t be more the opposite.

While you liked to maintain a certain image and always have a presentable appearance, despite any men or women that sought after you, you’d turned them downs. In fact, you’d never had a boyfriend – let alone any friends.

You worked hard to retain a respectable image. The problem with working and living in a dog-eat-dog world is the sacrifices you had to make to maintain such an image. You couldn’t simply allow people to walk all over you – achieving this took years. You had to speak up in times others would cower, use your voice when there was an issue other did not seem to care about. You had to walk with your head held high and your shoulders back.

Once you obtained dominance in the workplace, you had to conquer the world of love. It could make you gag. You wanted to intimidate the men that once patronized you. You wanted them to want you, fight over you, worship you. But you’d ever let them have you. Nobody could see you vulnerable, nobody could love you, touch you, blackmail you. That’s the way it had to be.

But you couldn’t always be so ruthless. Right now, you leaned against the counter, dropping your hands onto the cold marble surface. It was one of those days like today where everything got the best of you. Everyone tore you apart, you’d spent the last half of the day just reading tweets about yourself.

“She looks like such a bitch.”

“Would it kill her to smile? Not the kind of boss I’d want to work for.”

“My friend worked for her and said she has everyone else do her work for her.”

“Forbes, is this issue recognizing daddy’s money?”

Bucky placing a mug next to you pulled you out of your thoughts. You stared down at the steaming mug, Bucking suddenly speaking up: “maybe if you drank something, you’d feel better.”

You pushed past him, shoving him away from you as you headed to your bedroom. God, all you wanted was to be alone. Did he have to be here every second of the day? All you wanted was silence and he picks this one time to start babying you? You slammed the door shut, the sound echoing throughout the vast apartment. You stripped your nice clothes, opting for a shower and large t-shirt for bed.

Bucky sat in the living room, listening to you shuffle around your bedroom. He finally stood, ready to head home, when he heard the softest sound come from you bedroom. A sniffle. Followed by another.

He leaned against the doorframe, listening to the noises that he’d never heard from you before – hell, he never thought you were capable of that emotion. He weighed his options carefully: go inside and comfort you, it didn’t seem like you had a lot of close friends or even family that checked in on you, you must’ve felt so alone, and everyone attacking you definitely didn’t feel nice; he could leave and let you deal with this on you own – which is probably what you wanted, considering he knew how long it took you to create your façade. However, Bucky could see right through it – he could always see through it. No matter how intimidating and powerful you wanted yourself to be, he and everyone else knew that you were a spoilt brat trying to live up to daddy’s expectations, but only he knew that at your deepest core, you were a tired, lonely, sad little girl, wishing for just one day of invisibility, in which nobody knew who you were, nobody care about you – like you didn’t exist.

…

You and Bucky continued your usual routines from then on, nothing changed. He didn’t talk to you; you didn’t talk to him. He spent his time pushing people out of your way, and you went along pretending nobody existed.

It was two weeks after that when you spoke to him for the third time. You and Bucky were walking from the parking garage to your place. That’s when a masked man came out from behind you and grabbed a hold of your purse. You helped in surprise as he tried to run past you, one hand loosely gripping your Birkin. Before you could even turn to the direction he ran off in, Bucky’s hand hit him square in the jaw. You gasped, holding your hands up to your open mouth as Bucky knelt on top of the man, continuously hitting him and holding him down.

You saw a flash simmer as you saw Bucky’s hand move, holding the other man to the sidewalk. Metal? Did he have a prosthetic arm? When did that happen? And why didn’t you ever notice it before?

In the mixture of bystanders, paparazzi, and doormen, the police quickly pushed through. Bucky was relieved of his post as the man was taken away. The policeman escorted the two of you to the lobby, where he took the information and returned your purse to you.

Eventually, Bucky took you upstairs to your floor. “Are you okay,” he asked, following you through the door.

You nodded, turning around to face him – face his arm. You stared at it, the metal coils formed in the shape of a perfect hand, winding upwards all the way up to where his shirt sleeve was pushed up past his elbow. It shimmered in the soft lighting, reflecting the moonlight that cascaded in through your windows. He held his hands behind his back, tilting his jaw upwards slightly as he stared you down. Your eyes flitted to his narrow ones; his eyebrows narrowed between pieces of dark hair that fell over his forehead. “Yeah,” you muttered. “Yes,” you clarified, clearing your throat.

“Do you need me to stay with you? Or are you fine for the night?”

You bit the inside of your cheek, shifting your weight from one foot to another. “Stay?” It came out more of a question than you expected. He nodded, not moving any other muscle. You quickly thought of something to break the silence and pulled your phone from your bag. “Takeout?”

He cracked a smile, nodding again. “Sounds good.”

After calling it in, you shifted away to the kitchen as Bucky sat in the living room. You didn’t know what to do to fill the silence. You’d never talked to him. You fumbled around with a wine bottle, popping it open and taking a long pull straight from the bottle before heading towards Bucky with two glasses. Hopefully some liquid courage would kick in quickly. You poured him a glass, another for yourself, and sat beside him on the plush sofa.

It was quiet. It was awkward.

“Thank you for, y’know,” you murmured over the rim of your wine glass, eyes falling to the red liquid swirling in your glass.

“No problem, it’s my job,” he replied casually. “To protect you.” You nodded; lips pressed tight in a line. You looked around the room, trying to find anything to look at. Your gaze landed on the metal arm propped up on the side of the couch. “You wanna take a picture of it, doll?” He chuckles lightly, tapping his fingers on the fabric of the sofa.

“Oh!” You snapped out of your gaze, jumping slightly on the couch. “Sorry – I didn’t mean to stare, I just – just – ” you stuttered over your words, reaching out slightly towards him.

He smiled, genuinely smiled this time, tongue running over his bottom lip. “It’s okay, (Y/N) – ” your name sounded so good on his lips “ – you can touch it, if you want.” Touch it? Touch what? You nearly started salivating. Then he held his hand out to you, palm facing upwards, fingers outstretched. You held your hand out, brushing his metal palm with the tips of your fingers. He chuckled again, flipping your hand around and holding your own hand in his. He ran his metal fingers over the backs of your knuckles. It was cold, yet so much softer than you expected.

Your eyes flitted up to meet his blue ones, already staring back at you. He licked his lips and leaned ever so slightly towards you. Your breath hitched in the back of your throat as you stared at him with wide eyes and mouth agape. “See, that’s not so bad, right?” He whispered, gaze shifting from your eyes to your lips, tinged red from the wine.

You held your breath, leaning the rest of the way in, shutting your eyes.

Then you hit a brick wall.

A metal wall.

Your eyes snap open to see Bucky’s metal hand gripping your shoulder, holding you in place. “Look, (Y/N) – ” there he goes with your name, again “ – I didn’t mean to send any signals…” he trailed off, dropping his hand and pushing himself up to his feet. Signals? No, of course not. Just holding my hand, staring lustfully into my eyes, and looking at my lips. Not to mention licking his own. You almost rolled your eyes. “I’m sorry,” he sighed.

You did roll your eyes, standing with him. “It’s…” you trailed off. Save face. “Whatever.” You turned away, shuffling to the front door, pulling it open.

He left without another word, but not without stopping to look into your eyes – at least, he tried to, if it hadn’t been for you dropping your whole head, staring blankly at the floor. You slammed the door behind him, nearly nicking his back heel as he stepped into the corridor.

Well, that was perfectly embarrassing. The best way to end such a terrible day. Utter embarrassment. You didn’t know how you were supposed to face him tomorrow.

Sadness turned into anger as you threw his wine glass directly into the sink, watching as the glass shards flew across the countertops. Who did he think he was? That he could act like that and then throw it back in your face? His signals were perfectly clear. In fact, you were haunted by those signals all night.

By the touch of his skin.

By his blue eyes.

…

You didn’t sleep that night. Instead, spent your time getting ready all morning. Hair perfectly set down your back, eyes surrounded by sultry makeup, a ferocious looking contour. You put on your tallest heels, tightest dress, and shiniest jewelry.

You looked ravenous.

Bucky knocked on your front door, as he did every morning to take you to work. You slung your bag over your shoulder, took a deep breath, and swung open the door. You looked straight past him; eyes directed on the elevator doors in front of you. You walked directly past him, relying on him to shut the door behind you.

Your heart was racing, it took all of your willpower not to twitch or tap your foot as you waited for the elevator. You set your jaw and stood stonewalled.

That’s how the day went: you completely ignoring Bucky. Although you normally ignored Bucky, today you didn’t look at him, thank him when he opened the door for you, nothing. Not even sparing a glance as he stared at you from his position on the sofa in your office. There he sat, usually splayed out and legs open; you could feel him staring at you. All you wanted to do was run into the women’s bathroom and sit there all day – anywhere would be better than here with him.

That’s how the weekend went, too: you spent the first six days ignoring him. Today was Saturday and you wanted to go shopping. Not the normal shopping. Today was all about showing Bucky that if you wanted something, you got it.

Again sporting the skimpiest outfit you could manage, you dragged Bucky around shopping all day. By your fifth store, your feet were absolutely killing you from walking so far in these heels, but it was worth it to torture Bucky. He carried all of your bags – from your purse, to you shopping bags, to even your coat. And nothing pissed him off more than you waiting at the register, the person behind the counter ringing up your literal tens-of-thousands of dollars’ worth of clothes, shoes, and bags, clicking your tongue and holding your hand out for your wallet. You tapped your foot, continuing your light conversation with the employee, waiting for Bucky to drop the heavy wallet into your palm. Without a turn of your head or even a thank you, you finished the transaction, walking through the door immediately, leaving Bucky to take your purchases.

This is what he deserved after embarrassing you like that. Was he just so nice to see where you’d take it? Did he want you to try to kiss him, just so he could say no? Just so he could turn you down? To be the one guy you wanted – and never got? Maybe he was going to sell the story. He was just like any other guy – but then why wouldn’t he kiss you? And the thought replayed in your mind, as did that night’s events. You had no other choice but to continue shopping and dragging him around.

Oh, he was pissed.

A fucking bagman? That’s how you saw him? That night was probably the calmest he’d ever seen you. You seemed nervous, even. Nervous because of his arm? Yes, he would’ve loved nothing more than to have you in the palm of his hand – literally – he would’ve loved to kiss you, and touch you, and hold you. He couldn’t take advantage of you like that. Not in your most vulnerable moment. After the robbery, you mind must’ve been scrambled. He wasn’t sure if that was your way of thanking him. He wasn’t about to let you throw yourself on him – who knows how you would’ve felt the next day.

But that’s not how you saw it, and you weren’t about to let him explain.

And this show you were putting on for him? He wasn’t dumb; he would’ve had to be oblivious to not know you were showing off for him. These skimpy outfits and tight dresses, necklaces that ended just at the top of your cleavage, skirts that ended just at the curve of your ass – he loved every minute of it. But he wanted you out of it at the same time.

You were treating him like shit, which he didn’t enjoy. He could’ve stopped by now: dropped all your shit and walked right out of the store. Instead, he clenched his jaw, bit his tongue, and followed you around the block, holding your bags; the only saving grace was getting to walk behind you and stare at your shaking ass all day.

…

You pushed the apartment door open, barely holding it open long enough for Bucky to slip through, carrying bags lined up his arms. You heard the crinkling of some of the paper bags as the door shut on him. He took one step in, letting the door fall shut, then dropped everything to the floor nicely.

“No,” you said, not looking up from your cell phone. You pointed a finer across the room. “Bedroom.”

A sharp laughed cracked through the silence. You almost flinched, starting at Bucky cackling loudly at you. “That’s not my job.”

You stared at him, narrowing your eyes in challenge. “Excuse me?”

He crossed his arms over his chest, shit-eating-grin unfaltering. “You heard me, princess.”

You didn’t move. Instead, you took a step backwards as he approached you. He walked towards you until you were backed up against the kitchen counter. You mimicked his arms, crossing them over your own chest, inadvertently pushing your cleavage up – which you noticed when you saw his eyes flit down for the tiniest second before returning to your own eyes, a tinge of pink lacing his cheeks – not that he cared. “Don’t fucking call me that,” you spat, tilting your chin up. You were not intimidated by him.

He got so close that your pelvises were nearly touching. He leaned down, dropping his hands to the countertop on either side of you, his lips barely grazing the shell of your ear as he bent closer. “What do you want me to call you, baby?”

God, you looked so real in that moment. Caught off guard, maybe. But your usual forced scowl was replaced by your surprised expression, eyebrows raised, mouth slightly ajar, tongue tucked right where your two plump lips meet. You were holding your breath, he could tell. He liked you like this, better. When you weren’t trying to be all hard and intimidating, when you didn’t know how to react – couldn’t deal with these emotions because just this once, they were real.

You stumbled over your words, mind suddenly not processing anything. His stubble rubbed ever so lightly over your jaw, his breath tickling your neck. You didn’t know how long you were standing there. It felt like forever since either of you said anything.

Suddenly, he pulled away – just like before. You released your breath, about to speak and then –

He grabbed your face in both hands (one warm to the touch, the other cold from the marble) and held you so that you eyes gazed up at him. His blue eyes looking back into yours, a smile pulling at one corner of his lips. He pulled your head upwards, leaning his own down, meeting in the middle in a soft, tender kiss. He shrugged, letting himself fully tilt into the kiss, hips touching each other’s; you swung your arms around his neck, pulling yourself up to him, chest pressing against his.

God, you could get used to this.

And all it took was a little shopping.

#bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bodyguard #bodyguard!bucky #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes oneshot #captain america #request #bucky x you

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oneofyatosfollowers · 3 years

Text

Unforgettable Taste

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28843653

Fanfiction: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13798454/1/Unforgettable-Taste

Gift for Poki!

Visiting her brother was always an interesting experience by Hiyori’s standards. Either he was on some sort of new “life purpose” or there was some event that she would never live down.

“I have to ask,” Hiyori said as she scanned the room, “what brought this on?” She gestured around Masaomi’s tiny living room. The space was filled with paper, fabric, and various photos of flowers.

“Wedding planning is a real profession!” Masaomi shouted from beside an attempt at a wedding dress. Hiyori set her bags down and the door and made her way into the new, yet familiar, mess. This was a classic greeting for them and she would rather learn about what she was in for than put her bags away.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Hiyori tip-toed around fallen objects and papers, straightening up as she went. Masaomi sighed and picked the pins out of his mouth.

“I know, I know. I just think this is the one this time! I’ll make sure it’s stable before telling our parents but I can already hear mother’s disapproval.” Masaomi complained as he swept her up in a hug. They groaned as they squeezed then pulled back to share a smile.

“Are you going to answer my question?” Hiyori quirked a brow.

“Ah, yes!” Masaomi took a couple of steps back so he was in the center of the chaos. With a wide grin he threw his arms out to show off the room.

“I’m taking over my friend’s failing business!” Masaomi’s proud declaration was met with silence. Stopping the shout of outrage in its tracks, Hiyori held her breath. Her brother has had some less-than-intelligent ideas in the past. Ideas that have left him broke or in more trouble than he started. It wasn’t so much that her brother was too trusting, actually the man was quite smart, but he tended to throw caution to the wind all for the sake of adventure.

“Masaomi,” Hiyori started. Her brother flinched as he watched her fists curl at her sides.

“It’s okay he’s still helping me! In fact he does the majority,” Masaomi quickly explained, “We’re co-owners and I’m his apprentice now. I mostly handle the books, you know?”

“If you handle the books you clearly know how badly it’s failing! It’s one thing if you think you found your calling and you try a new thing. It’s another to offer to take over said business!” Hiyori tried her best not to growl, her glare was sufficient enough.

“I offered! Besides, the only reason it’s failing is cause he’s decided to settle down here and being a wedding planner means traveling! He’s really good at it and he’ll teach me all he knows! I’ll be able to travel while he stays here to be the pâtissière and the business will be back on track! It’s a win-win!” Masaomi said. He put his hands together in a pleasing way and Hiyori breathed through her nose. She had to admit it sounded a bit better but not quite.

“Doesn’t that sound fishy to you? The business is failing just as he decides to settle down and be a baker? And if he is teaching you then why isn’t he here?”

“He’s a pâtissière,” Masaomi groaned, “He teaches me after work. See, he used to do the whole shabang: the phone calls, the planning, all the designing, and the food making! But while he was studying abroad he picked up a kid! Now he has to stay in one place so the kid could go to school. Originally, he was going to ditch the business and open a sweets shop, but his friends in town own a bakery so he started working for them.”

“He ‘picked up’ a kid?” Hiyori stopped at that, “how old is he?”

“He’s my age! Actually, we went to college together. Do you remember Yato?” Masaomi asked. Now that Hiyori calmed down, he went back to work on the dress as she unconsciously returned to tidying the room.

“Yato? I don’t think so?”

“Yeah! He came over for my birthday that one time, he wore all black and kinda kept to himself,” Masaomi waved his hand, “long hair, blue eyes.” Her brother hummed as he tried to think of more things to jog her memory but she already had the face in mind. The name certainly didn’t sound familiar, but there was only one person at that party- in fact he was probably the first person she had ever seen- with blue eyes. Yato had been quiet, staying with the group and only really speaking when spoken too. She remembered thinking he was nice. Most of the guys Masaomi brought over barely said hi to her before partying. Yato had greeted her and was very polite when she was around, apologising for the noise and asking her thoughts on things.

“Really? He became a wedding planner?” Hiyori was shocked to say the least.

“Yeah, he’s a great artist and was always able to mend everyone’s clothes. He majored in design with a minor in fashion and started the business right after we graduated. Since cake designing was a step from clothing, he went to France and studied to become a pâtissière. But since he brought the kid back,” Masaomi trailed off and Hiyori was reminded of the other issue.

“S-still! Even if he has a business that he’s good at, he’s rather young to have a kid, no?” Even as she said it, Hiyori knew her argument was rather weak. Her brother was old enough to have a kid, and while a bit soon, it wasn’t unheard of. From the smile on Masaomi’s face, he shared her thinking. He let her stew for a moment longer before returning to the dress.

“Actually, he adopted a young teen.”

“A teenager?” Hiyori parroted.

“Yeah, his name’s Yukine,” Masaomi informed, “he was a bit troubled in the beginning but now he’s as sweet as the treats Yato makes. I can’t get either of them to tell me the story as to why Yato took him in. They won’t tell anyone.”

“Huh,” Hiyori hummed. She could imagine what moving to another country must do to a teenager, especially with some random new guardian. The whole situation was starting to make sense and she felt a bit bad from jumping to such a negative conclusion.

“You know, you’ll probably be able to meet him soon. Yukine is supposed to deliver Yato’s samples for this client’s wedding cake soon.” Masaomi said. Hiyori hummed and looked around the much-cleaner room. How her brother was expecting to have clients over with this sort of mess was beyond her but he probably knew she would pick up. Besides, she did enough meddling today.

“Well, let me know what time they come so-” Hiyori’s sentence was cut off by a door bell. Together the siblings looked toward the door. By the time Hiyori whipped her head around to glare at her brother, Masaomi already had a sheepish expression. The younger Iki stuck her nose in the air and stalked toward the front door. Hopefully she would be able to distract the newlyweds while her brother tidied more. The front door opened with ease, Hiyori looking straight ahead to see a blue bike at the end of the walk way. A bright tuft of blonde hair brought her attention down.

“Hey Masaomi, I got the cup cakes for you,” the boy spoke, “Yato said he would be by later than usual since Kofuku burnt the croissants again. He wants me to take pictures of your progress.” She couldn’t see his face as he rifled through a cooler on his hip but he seemed smaller than a teen. Though his voice definitely held that disinterested drawl. Once he gathered three square, plastic containers on top of each other and held them out, Hiyori was able to see his face. The boy startled when he saw her, someone clearly not her brother, and his mouth opened. Hiyori watched his fair skin bloom pink under his freckled cheeks while light-colored eyes flickered to the number on the house and back.

“Hi, I’m Hiyori,” she took the cup cakes, “Masaomi is my brother. You must be Yukine?” Hiyori smiled politely at him.

“Yes, um, nice to meet you,” Yukine offered, much more shy than when he thought he was talking to Masaomi. Hiyori’s smile stayed on her face as she watched him shift from foot to foot. He had on a bright pink polo shirt with a fancy ‘K’ stitched onto his breast with his name under it in a different font. It was only when he looked behind her, that Hiyori remembered the end of his greeting.

“Oh!” Hiyori stepped aside, “Please come in!” She let Yukine enter her brother’s two bedroom home before closing the door. He gave her a quick thank you and made his way to Masaomi’s workroom, clearly knowing where to go.

“Yukine! You made it! And I see you met my dear little sister.” Masomi left his dress to beam at the kid. He returned the smile with a dampered one before pulling out a camera to take pictures of the dress. Hiyori took a seat and watched Masaomi communicate happily with Yukine. He asked how his summer was going and his friends, Yukine answered easily while doing his work. Normally, Hiyori was embarrassed by how excitable her brother was but Yukine handled it without batting an eye. They must work together often.

“Oh! That’s them!” Masaomi looked at the clock and tsked, “They’re early.” He quickly scrambled to make the dress look presentable. Yukine put the camera away and closed the cooler, walking towards the back of the house. Quickly getting to her feet, Hiyori tried to see where Yukine was going but Masaomi running around made it difficult. Hiyori stumbled over the rest of the objects on the floor and side stepped a frantic brother to follow after him. It really was incredible how easily Yukine was able to walk across the room and avoid the chaos.

“Uh, Yukine?” Hiyori stopped him in the kitchen. The blonde looked at her confused, then embarrassed.

“When there are customers I just go through the back door,” Yukine said. With a sheepish smile, Yukine pointed to the back door. They heard Masaomi greet the happy couple. Sharing a look, the two were out of her brother’s house. Before she could follow the length of the wall, Yukine caught her attention.

“This way,” Yukine flapped his hand. Giggling, Hiyori followed him to a hole in the bushes and through the neighbor’s yard.

“He has windows all along the side of his house,” Yukine explained, “you don’t want clients to think that we’re stealing.”

“Sounds like you speak from experience,” Hiyori laughed. The teen rolled his eyes and scoffed.

“You have no idea. Yato doesn’t like me walking home late and would try to make me stay here until he was done. If I tried to escape by the windows, he would catch me every time.” Yukine said. He didn’t see the way Hiyori’s face scrunched at the thought of having to escape someone who wouldn’t let him go home. She remembered Yato, always dressed in black, with a bruise or two, and hoped Yukine didn’t always feel the need to hide.

“I’m sure he was just worried,” Hiyori tried. Yukine straightened up as they reached his bike.

“He’s always worried! He’s like a mother hen,” Yukine said with puffed out red cheeks. In spite of herself, Hiyori let out a snort, smiling at the thought.

“That’s good though,” Hiyori said. Yukine sighed and grumbled out a response, kicking up his kickstand but not getting on. At the same time, their stomachs growled.

“It looks like he’s gonna be awhile. Do you want to come over for lunch?” Yukine offered. He watched her perk up at the offer.

“Oh, uh I don’t want to impose,” Hiyori trailed off.

“You’re not! It’s a bakery afterall, we have sandwiches and stuff,” Yukine insisted. With that, Hiyori agreed and let the teen lead the way. They walked down the hill towards town, Yukine pushing his bike with Hiyori on his other side. She noticed the bike had silver snowflakes on it, similar to the designs she saw on one of Masaomi’s papers. The thought made her smile.

“So, Yukine,” Hiyori started, “my brother told me a little about you but he tends to embellish.”

“Oh, what did you hear?”

“Umm,” Hiyori tried to think of where to start, “you were adopted by Yato while he was abroad?” She noticed the way Yukine tensed and quieted. That bad feeling came back and Hiyori readied herself to defend the child once she saw Yato again. But instead, Yukine looked ahead with a soft smile.

“Yeah, I was. I lived in France with my family but my mom was from here, so she taught my sister and I the language. I used to hang around the college where Yato was studying cause that’s where my sister used to go. Once he found out I could understand him, he would give me pasties in exchange for me basically being his translator slash teacher. After school I would go to his house and he would make me what he learned that day or let me taste his homework. By the time he was interning, I was living with him.” Yukine spoke fondly, but his tone conveyed that there was sorrow.

“That’s really sweet. But what about your parents?” She remembered Masaomi mentioned Yukine was rather rebellious and why would they let some random student adopt him and take him far away?

“They’re both- out of the picture,” Yukine watched his feet, “and my sister met some guy in her first year and I haven’t heard from her since.” They were silent as Hiyori hummed and bit her lip. She pried too much and felt sorry for bringing up bad memories.

“Well lucky you, you were scooped up by a baker. I’m sure helping him with his homework was fun,” she smiled when Yukine huffed a laugh, “and you like it here, don’t you?”

“Yeah, I do. I knew enough about this culture. I just had to get used to all the new people and a new home. There were some other things but Yato helped me through them so I’m good now.”

“O-oh! That’s good, I’m glad!” Hiyori said. The bakery was coming up on the right, a square pink building with the name ‘Kofuku’s’ in calligraphy on the front. Yukine walked her up to the back of the store and chained his bike. They approached the medal door just as the building shook with a large boom and a crash. Frozen, they stared at the door with Yukine’s hand still on the handle. Only when he sighed, a loud noise over the shouting from inside, did Hiyori turn her focus onto him.

“It’s a little hectic inside. The owner is clumsy and tends to cause disasters in the kitchen. The mess from this morning was supposed to be cleaned, but who knows. Please excuse it.” Yukine said, his voice exasperated. Before Hiyori could respond, Yukine pushed the door in and entered, leaving Hiyori to cough through a cloud of smoke.

“Kofuku, why, why, why?” Someone weeped, “I told you to stay out of the kitchen! Look at them, my creations are ruined!”

“It’s not my fault! I finished cleaning your cooking sheets and I wanted to bring them to you! But when I passed by the oven I saw the same pies were in the oven and I thought they would cook faster if I turned up the heat.” A tiny woman with curly pink hair tried to hide her giggles behind a hand as she attempted to placate a young man on the floor. He was on his knees with his head down, holding an oven rack with five mini burnt circles.

“Chocolate Chess Pie needs to bake for 25 minutes before I lightly spray the tops with my home-made syrup and put them back in for 45 minutes so that I can spray them again,” the man raised his head, “I can’t spray these again!” He wailed. The young woman laughed and went over to clean his face with a rag. From Hiyori’s side, Yukine scoffed in disgust and went in to put his cooler away. Behind Yukine, a large man came from the front of the store and looked at the two on the floor with an eye roll. He wore a pink shirt that matched Yukine’s with the name Daikoku stitched on and light khakis. The man had slick back brown hair and brown eyes with peach fuzz. With a swift motion, he took the rack from off the floor and let the burnt pies slide into the trash.

“Yukine, you finish your deliveries?” Daikoku asked.

“Yeah!” Yukine said, “oh, and also I brought-” A loud timer rang throughout the kitchen and the young man, now with a clean face, shot up off the floor.

“Ah! My ham and cheese puff pastry slab pie!” He effused. Hiyori flinched when a whirlwind of white came barreling at her. That’s when she was finally noticed and the man came to a screeching halt. Letting out a squeak, Hiyori stepped back when he stopped nearly two inches from her nose and stared with wide eyes. They were just as blue as she remembered. But his face had changed, the narrow eyes fit better on a face with a sharp jawline and strong chin, lacking any baby fat. His hair also grew an inch or two since they talked, brushing over his ears and eyes.

“You’re,” Yato’s eyes widened, “Masaomi’s sister! Hiyori!” She was shocked he remembered her- when she didn’t- but the thought spread warmth throughout her body.

“H-hey, Yato. It’s been a while,” Hiyori smiled. He stepped back and they let out a breath of air, grinning at each other like idiots. Neither of them noticed the room watching them closely, the men turning pink from second-hand embarrassment while the young woman grinned.

“Ooo,” the young woman slithered between them and smirked, “My name’s Kofuku, I’ve heard about you from Masaomi. But I didn’t know you were friends with Yatty! What are the chances, huh?” Her eyes flickered to Yato and he looked to the side. When Kofuku turned that sly face on her, Hiyori felt her face warm up as well.

“Ah, yes, well, I only talked to him once at a party for Masaomi. I’m surprised to find him here as a baker, giving his company to my brother no less.” Hiyori gave a light laugh while Kofuku hummed.

“I’m a pâtissière,” Yato groaned.

“You’re a pain in the rear, is what you are,” Diakoku called in from the front. It was Yato’s words that caught Hiyori’s attention and she spun around.

“Ah, what about your-” Hiyori began. Luckily, instead of another smoking oven, Hiyori saw Yukine had already removed Yato’s creations and was munching on one as they spoke. The treats were a thin strip of bright golden brown with a fluffy exterior and a cheesy interior. Hiyori felt her mouth water involuntarily as they reminded her how hungry she was.

“Do you want some?” Yato spoke close to her ear. Hiyori yelped and looked at his grin with red-tipped ears. They looked at each other for a moment before Hiyori remembered he asked her a question.

“Oh! Uh, no, I couldn’t, they’re for the customers after all.”

“Customers?” Yato tilted his head, “Those aren't for sale. That’s just our brunch!” He laughed and moved aside so she could have a clear view of Yukine and Kofuku munching on the food. Even Daikoku dipped in to grab three before returning to the front desk.

“Well, if it’s okay with you,” Hiyori said. Despite her best attempts at tact, Hiyori’s feet were already leading her to the delicious smell.

“Yattsh foom ish always sho yummy,” Kofuku said around a mouthful. Hiyori hummed amusingly as she picked one up. She looked to Yukine- who had a bit more self control than Kofuku- munching on his second one. The only opinion he had was the pleasurable hum he let out once he bit into it, his eyes still closed to focus on the taste. Just to make sure, Hiyori glanced at Yato only to find him staring at her with an even bigger grin.

“Eh?” Yato coaxed. His eyebrows went up and he tilted his head towards the pan while keeping his gaze on her. Hiyori couldn’t help but snort and roll her eyes, picking one up. The pastry was just as fluffy as it looked. Her teeth sunk into it easily and warmth spread across her tongue. It was easy to let out a moan that didn’t have her embarrassed until after her third bite. A string of cheese stretched from her mouth to the food and Hiyori caught Yato’s eye over it. It took her more time than she��d like to chew and swallow the bite; Yato’s intense look made it difficult.

“So,” Yato smiled, “you like it?”

‘Do I like it?’ Hiyoti found that question haunting her for the rest of the day. Her time at the bakery was so fun she ended up staying well past closing. Throughout that time, Hiyoi found that she had been stuffed to the brim with food. Turns out Daikoku was also a baker, sticking primarily to breads, while Yato handled the pastries. They had a bread competition with Hiyori as the impartial judge, since Kofuku always voted for her husband and Yukine voted for his whiny guardian.

She had to admit, the local baker knew what he was doing. Unfortunately, Yato’s wounded pride caused him to present her with desserts to try, each more extravagant than the last. He even presented some new ones that no one but him had even heard of. In a single night, Yato’s pastries took her around the world, each absolutely delicious. Yet no matter how much food they gave her, that first bite was the one she couldn’t forget.

Did she like it? What kind of question was that? Hiyori found herself obsessed. Now she laid in bed, glaring at the morning sun on her ceiling, hungry for one thing. Frustrated, Hiyori threw off the covers and put on her slippers. She went down the stairs with a bit more force than necessary and searched the kitchen with a discerning eye. The sound of her stomping brought Masaomi out of his work space. He gave her a quirk of an eyebrow from over his mug.

“Were we too loud last night?” He took a guess. Hiyori sighed, she must have looked like she didn’t get much sleep last night, scowling with messy hair. Yato walked her home once she decided to leave -since he promised to meet with Masaomi anyway- and to make sure she didn’t get lost. They separated soon after walking through the door, Yato smiling and waving as she walked up the stairs. No they weren’t too loud last night, in fact she couldn’t hear them at all once she shut her door. The thing preventing her from sleeping was the thought of Yato being just downstairs. She would have done anything for a snack before bed with a cup of tea. And maybe to ask Yato about his time in France, his work, his kid, or his personal life.

“No,” Hiyori mumbled. She glared at the floor for a bit before smoothing out her brow and looking back at her brother. He was grinning at her, wide and knowing, it brought red to her cheeks. He said nothing as he walked towards the counter and set his cup down with a clink.

“You know,” he started, “the bakery opened at eight. We can go have breakfast if you want to.” Masaomi said nonchalantly. A zip of excitement shot up Hiyori’s spine and hit her heart. Immediately, the thought of a fluffy pastry held out by a blue-eyed man came to mind and Hiyori had to fight a smile.

“Would he even be awake?” Hiyori jolted when her brother smiled wider, “Th-they! Are they, anyone, awake?”

“Seeing as the store is open, I imagine someone would be awake. But if you’re asking about a specific business partner of mine, he’s usually with Daikoku in the kitchen by seven.” Masaomi finished his cup and left it in the sink, walking past a flustered sister stating he would be getting dressed and heading over there. Hiyori refused to look up from the floor until her brother was safely in his room upstairs.

The Iki siblings didn’t talk on their walk to Kofuku’s, the smile on Masaomi’s face hadn’t gone away and Hiyori wouldn’t look at him until it did. The front of Kofuku’s Bakery was small and cute, its windows covered in children’s doodles and some local flyers. A bell rang welcoming them inside, Hiyori walked across a black and white checkered floor up to two large glass containers stacked with pastries of all kinds. The familiar sight almost made her full but her stomach quickly reminded her otherwise. Kofuku was alone behind the counter, chewing on a cinnamon roll. She perked up when she saw them outside, trying her best to swallow the food in her cheeks while waving them in.

“Good morning you two!” Kofuku greeted, cheerily. Her words caught the attention of the people eating their breakfast at the small wooden tables.

“Morning Kofuku,” Masaomi smiled, “Is Yato here?”

“Oohohoh! Yatty huh?” Kofuku’s eyes slid to Hiyori and back, “For you or?” They stalled as Hiyori tensed only to burst into laughter.

“We’re only teasing Hiyori,” Masaomi said, trying to ease his sister’s wrath.

“You might be, Massi,” Kofuku winked. They shared another laugh as Hiyori’s body temperature rose. Eventually Kofuku took pity on her and reached her hand out.

“Yatty’s in the back, you’re welcome to go. Just be super careful of the hot ovens,” Kofuku smiled and gestured towards the kitchen door. Unable to say anything, Hiyori just shut her mouth and walked to the door, turning her nose up at the snickers behind her.

When the door pushed open, a warm waft of air hit her carrying the scent of fresh bread. To the left, Daikoku was hard at work in front of an old stone oven, moving around loafs with a large wooden spatula. His hair was held back by a white rag tied around his head, sweat beaded his brow and the exposed arms under his rolled up chef sleeves. As a closet wrestling fan, Hiyori could appreciate the image, but she was looking for something else. Off to her right was a tray of various shaped pastries, Yato leaning over them with a tube of frosting. It wasn’t until he looked up with big blue eyes, frosting smeared across his nose, that Hiyori felt that something jolt her heart.

“Hiyori!” Yato beamed.

“Hello Yato, Daikoku,” Hiyori greeted as she walked in. Daikoku waved to her before focusing his attention back to his bread. Yato stood as she went over to him, watching her admire the colorful baking sheets on the table.

“Classic fruit and cream cheese pastries,” Yato said, “Try one!” He smiled at her when she hummed. It would be impolite to decline, especially when she was so hungry and they looked so delicious. She plucked a blueberry one off the paper and took a bite, moaning her appreciation through her teeth. Next to her, Yato swallowed, mouth suddenly very dry.

“You like it?” He gurgled out with a cough.

“Mmm mm!” Hiyori hummed with a smile. Blinking once, Yato laughed good naturedly.

“Well good! I’m glad!” He grinned.

“Hiyori! I’m heading out!” Masaomi called from behind the door.

“Okay!” Hiyori replied.

“Yato, don’t touch my sister! Or do anything weird to her!” Masaomi’s voice echoed throughout the bakery, “if you do I’ll mix some of your salt and sugar jars without telling you and when you least expect it!” Masaomi’s threat did its job. From beside a bright-faced Hiyori, Yato gasped like he found out his father was Darth Vader.

“No! Why would you even think of something so awful!” Yato scurried to the pantry, trying to hide all his baking needs behind boxes of cereal. Daikoku sighed and shook his head, coming over to pat the young woman on the shoulder as her brother cackled and Yato mumbled consperiousys. Daikoku left the kitchen, only to poke his head in and announce Masaomi was gone and that he wouldn’t be allowed to mess with the bakers’ ingredients.

With Hiyori’s gentle coaxing, Yato finally finished with the frosting. At some point, he went into a long winded commentary of how he made the frosting and why he cut the fruit the way he did. Hiyori smiled throughout his entire explanation, listening to every word. Tips and tricks on cooking were always interesting. But the way Yato talked about his craft, so passionate and excited, there was no way she couldn’t listen. As they moved on to wrapping each treat in plastic, Yato asked her about her life. Things she did, things she liked or didn’t, her friends. It was then Hiyori realised that he was just as invested in what she had to say as she was. It was nice.

“So, where’s Yukine?” Hiyori asked.

“Probably still in bed like the teenager he is,” Yato huffed, “Sundays are his one day off from both work and prep school. But he’ll probably help out later anyway.”

“That’s sweet,” Hiyori said, genuinely.

“Yeah. Just in time for the croissants.” Yato looked fondly towards one of the ovens but Hiyori had a feeling he wasn’t smiling at the pastries.

“Are they his favorite?”

“No, but they remind him of home so I make sure to keep them stocked. Kofuku burnt yesterday's entire batch so I had to stay late to re-make them.” Yato spoke as he gathered the wrapped treats. Hiyori hummed in response, touched by the notion. The man got up early to work, stayed late with her brother, then continued making food for the next day. Kofuku perked up when they both pushed through the kitchen door.

“Aw, thank you Hiyori!” Kofuku said.

“You’re welcome!” Hiyori answered. She was lucky her voice didn’t crack when Yato took the rest of the pastries out of her arms. His fingers brushed against her and Hiyori realized just how good sugar and bread can smell. Luckily, Hiyori’s phone rang and she was able to excuse herself from looking at Yato’s backside and Kofuku’s smirk to sit at a table by the window. Her phone told her it was her co-worker and highschool friend, Yama. They greeted each other cheerily, Hiyori trying to keep her voice down while Yama only increased in volume. Through her friend’s squealing, Hiyori could make out that Yama’s high school sweetheart proposed to her.

“Yama! That’s amazing! Congratulations!” Hiyori gushed. She looked around to see if she was disturbing anyone, only to catch Yato staring at her from behind the counter. He snapped out of it when Kofuku jabbed his side and gave her an awkward wave. Hiyori choked back a laugh and gave a light wave back. Yama asked her what was so funny as Hiyori watched him scurry back into the kitchen. As the door shut behind him, a thought struck her.

“Hey, I know this is premature, but you’re going to need a wedding planner, right?”

“Ah! You’re right I will! Why, you have someone in mind?”

“Well my brother got a new job,” Hiyori continued before her friend could groan, “but it wouldn’t be him doing it! My brother would just be helping cause he’s in training! At the very least, I can vogue for the pâtissière.”

“The what?”

“The cake!” Hiyori giggled, “the baker?” She sent a silent apology to Yato as her friend hummed in understanding. There were a couple beats of quiet and Hiyori worried her bottom lip between her teeth.

“Let me guess, it’s one of Masaomi’s friends?” Yama said without malice.

“One from college. Did I ever tell you about Yato?” Hiyori was shocked when Yama let out a sound that had Hiyori feeling embarrassed.

“The one with the blue eyes? Who was really polite and didn’t seem to fit in at all with Masaomi’s friends? With the bruises and battle scars? The one with really blue eyes, like he’s albino but not, that contrasted with his black hair-” Yama stopped when Hiyori hissed out gibberish. Steam from her burning face seeped through the phone as she recalled her words from highschool.

“Yeah I remember him,” Yama finally relented, “he’s the only one you talked about when Ami and I asked you if there were any cute guys there. Knowing you, you probably forgot.” She could practically hear the grin in Yama’s voice when Hiyori couldn’t produce a rebuttal. Her friend reminded her of a certain pink-haired bakery owner.

“Well he’s a wedding planner, dress maker, and pâtissière. I’m sure he would be willing to work if you needed it, but it’s just a suggestion.” Hiyori said primly. The friends dissolved into giggles, giddy on the thought of a wedding.

“But seriously Hiyori. I’ll think about it but the wedding won’t be for a while! We’re sticking to the plan of Ami being my maid of honor, me being your MOH, and you being Ami’s. She’s still seeing that guy from her micro-bio class so you’re the only one left! Take the time before my big day to smooze that cake guy so you can bring him as a date! Maybe even get me a discount!” Yama’s declaration had Hiyori sputtering.

“A year to what? Yama, please, he’s just Masaomi’s business partner. I’m not-”

“Oh his partner, huh? That means you’ll be seeing him a lot while you stay there, right? How long are you there for anyway?”

“Well I packed for the month but my classes are online so, I mean,” Hiyori drifted off as she thought. She came here with the knowledge that she might stay past her vacation but med school was much easier when she had her textbooks with her. The idea of staying with her brother for the year just to talk to some guy was absurd. Not that Masaomi would mind. Plus her textbooks were only a couple hours away.

“Huuuggnn,” Yama purred through the receiver, “Do I hear someone considering it?”

“D-don’t be ridiculous!” Hiyori fought to keep her voice level but Yama knew her too well. Out of the corner of her eye, Hiyori saw Kofuku grin like she could hear every word.

“But you like him, don’t you?” Yama asked. She made it sound so easy. Like Yato was a classmate she saw every day for years rather than her brother’s friend she talked to for a couple days at most. Hiyori’s mouth worked for some excuse, some reason the idea was absurd, but all she could think of was she wouldn’t mind bringing Yato to the wedding. Yama would love him and he would make the day that much more fun. Even just going on a date with him was something she could get excited about. Hiyori was so lost in her thoughts that she didn’t see Yukine approach until he set down a plate of food in front of her.

“Oh, I didn’t order anything,” Hiyori said.

“It’s on the house,” Yukine replied.

“Huh? Is that him?” Yama asked, “Yato! Hey! Is that you?” Her voice was loud through the speaker and Yukine quirked his brow, the corner of his lip lifting.

“No! No it isn’t, Yama I have to go,” Hiyori spoke rapidly into her phone.

“Uh huh, sure. I bet it is-”

“Good bye!” Hiyori quickly shut her phone and turned to Yukine with a forced smile, hoping she didn’t scare the kid off. The last thing she wanted was him telling his guardian she was some weirdo that yelled over the phone. If Yukine thought that, or noticed her pink cheeks, he was nice enough not to comment. Instead to her surprise, Yukine sat down across from her with a plate of his own.

“Kofuku said to keep you company,” he mumbled.

“That’s okay! You don’t have to!” Hiyori waved her hands to try to help the equally embarrassed teenager.

“Eh, don’t worry about it. Sitting here talking to you is better than trying to help Yato in the kitchen.” Yukine didn’t mean anything by his words but Hiyori still couldn’t help but worry.

“Yukine,” Hiyori got his attention, “do you, um, I mean you get along with Yato, right?” She couldn’t help but lean in with a concerned expression, her feelings about Yato still twinged with minor doubt. The man didn’t seem mean in the slightest, but relationships between a teenager and an adult can be rocky. Especially when the said adult didn’t raise them. Besides, who knows what happens behind closed doors. Yukine jolted back and looked at her with wide eyes.

“We- of course I do! I mean we argue constantly but it doesn’t mean anything. He’s, I mean he, uh, kinda saved me.” Yukine’s words quieted towards the end as he spoke into his lap but Hiyori heard him all the same. She wanted to ask more, but Hiyori figured she pried too much already.

“Well good. You don’t have to talk about it if you don't want to. I just wanted to make sure he was treating you okay, that’s all,” Hiyori hunched her shoulders, “sorry, it’s really none of my business.” She looked up at the boy through her lashes, watching his mouth finally close.

“No! That’s okay! Actually I appreciate you asking. Some people just look away or don’t try to ask so, thank you,” Yukine spoke so honestly Hiyori couldn’t do anything but hum in reply. Whatever funk Yukine fell into, he quickly snapped out of it to munch on the food on his plate. It was only when he brought a very familiar cheesy pastry to his lips that Hiyori whipped her head down to her own plate. There, just as gold brown as she remembered, was the ham and cheese pastry she’s desired. Yukine looked up at her when she grabbed it much too quickly and took a large bite. Feeling caught, Hiyori covered her mouth and tried to swallow faster, putting the warm treat back down.

“You looked like you really liked it yesterday,” Yukine offered, “trust me, I know that face. Cooking happens to be that guy’s one talent and he’s really good at it. The best,” Yukine spoke around his own cheesy breakfast. They munched on their treats a little longer.

“I just wish he’d let me around the oven instead of freaking out.” Yukine rolled his eyes, but smiled goodnaturedly at Hiyori’s giggles. She long since finished her slice of pastry and she noticed Yukine was just about done with his.

“Um, Yato said he finished off a batch of croissants for you. I don’t know if you know,” Hiyori said. Yukine looked up at her with a funny expression.

“Yeah, I know. It was the first thing he made for me when I went over his house. I just walked in the door and he had a pan ready like ‘you were born here so you must like these!’ It was so stupid, that was the first time I actually yelled at him. But now he thinks they’re my favorite so he keeps making them for me and I keep eating them cause, you know,” Yukine was looking at the last bite in his hands, “They’re alright but I prefer the food from here. The stuff he makes for dinner or whatever. I don’t know, the things from home are just better, I think.” Yukine finished with a huff, shoving the rest of the pasty in his mouth. Hiyori felt her smile grow and her heart warm at the thought.

“I understand. The meals my mother makes will always hold a special place in my heart.” Hiyori smiled as Yukine choked and coughed in his hand.

“Yeah, uh,” Yukine’s eyes flickered towards the kitchen and back, “so, uh, how long are you in town?” His question seemingly came out of nowhere but Hiyori didn’t mind.

“For a while. At least a month.”

“So you’re just visiting,” Yukine tried his best to make it seem like he wasn’t prying.

“Well, it’s up in the air. I only came here to visit but there’s no reason I can’t stay a while. I don’t know, I haven’t decided.” Hiyori said. It was true, which was still crazy in itself, but the answer seemed to make Yukine more uncomfortable. His eyes flickered towards the kitchen a couple more times and Hiyori couldn’t help but look. She wouldn’t be surprised if Kofuku was still behind the counter with a teasing smirk but instead Hiyori saw the counter was empty. It was understandable, breakfast and brunch was just about finished and they probably had to prepare for the lunch rush.

“Are you sure it’s okay if you stay?” Yukine hesitated, “I mean don’t you need to go back to your friends, or your boyfriend?” The last word was forced out with as much nonchalance as a teenager could muster. He glared at the kitchen then smoothed his face out to look at Hiyori.

“No, I don’t live that far away and my friends are mostly busy so I can see them anytime. As for a boyfriend, I don’t have to worry about one of those,” Hiyori said. Yukine looked back from the kitchen and smiled.

“I see, that’s good then.” Yukine put on a smile. They chatted for a little while longer before Hiyori said she should check on her brother. Standing, Yukine cleared their plates, Hiyori tried reaching for her wallet.

“It’s on the house,” Yukine said.

“Oh no, that’s okay! You gave me so much already!”

“Nah, it’s cool. They give away so much I have no idea how they stay in business. I think Kofuku’s brother is rich? But, no, don’t worry about it. Everyone saw the way you looked at that ham and cheese puff pastry slab pie,” he paused when Hiyori made a face, “don’t worry. It happens a lot. You might as well get used to it if you’re going to stay a while. Once you get over one dish he’ll just make another, and keep feeding it to you until the process repeats.” Yukine sounded so done with the ordeal and Hiyori laughed. She was already thinking of a work out routine as Yukine waved her out of the bakery.

The door jingled as it shut, alerting Yato that Hiyori finally left. Really, he should have just gone out there and talked with them. But instead he panicked and made profiteroles, hoping they would pass as an award for Yukine. There was no way he could have known Kofuku would tell the kid to talk to Hiyori, but he wasn’t about to pass up the opportunity to gather information about the younger Iki. Yato remembered how sweet she was to him when they first met. How she smiled and listened to him when they chatted, giving him more attention in that moment than the entire party- save for Masaomi- gave him combined. But now he had his chance with the girl who didn’t seem to mind listening to his rambling.

The kitchen door pushed open and Yato quickly jumped to the sink only to find there were no dirty dishes. He grabbed a clean plate and got it wet, rubbing it in circles with a damp rag. Yukine walked in with their plates and placed them in the sink. Yato whirled on him so fast the kid flinched back, but his wide eyes quickly narrowed.

“How did it go?” Yato questioned. Shouldering him out of the way, Yukine got to work on the dishes, glaring down at them with a red face.

“She's single,” he gritted out, “and in town for a while.”

“Ah! That’s my boy! Good work!” Yato cheered. He grabbed the kid by his shoulders and shook him, smiling wider when Yukine’s blush stretched to his neck.

“That doesn’t mean anything you know!” Yukine pushed him off, “you actually have to talk to her! You can’t just feed her and have your kid go hang out with her!”

“Of course I can! Everyone knows the quickest way to a woman’s heart is with sweets and good parenting!” Yato sang, He easily dodged his kid’s attacks and Yukine went back to drying the dishes.

“So,” Yato spoke, “what do you think?”

“What do I think? About your chances?” Yukine scoffed despite catching on to Yato’s more serious tone.

“Do you like her?” Yato asked. Yukine stopped at the question before carefully putting the dried dishes away.

“She’s really nice.” Yukine said. That was enough for Yato, he smiled at the back of his kid and thought about a brown-haired med student. The front door rang and Yato’s head snapped towards the noise. Kofuku and Daikoku went to lunch so that was his cue.

“Okay! Make sure you finish your summer work! There’s croissants for you already in the toaster-oven!” Yato said as he disappeared through the door, leaving a smiling Yukine to fiddle with the toaster.

After a month or so, Masaomi and Yato’s clients were just about finished with their preparations. By now, Hiyori was aware that Yato worked fast, and with Masaomi’s help the wedding was ready to go in about two weeks. Hiyori stood in Masaomi’s kitchen, a large cookie tray covered with raw puff pastry dough, ham, and shredded cheese. Next to the pan, taped to the counter, was an index card Kofuku used to paint the titles of pastries in the casing. One side was the fun, colorful title of the puff pastry and on the back was Yato’s neat handwriting of the recipe. He had given it to her out of the blue, smile on his face as he insisted she take it just in case.

“It’s not like it’s a secret or anything!” He had said, “and I rather you use my delicious recipe than some naviance online.” They had grinned at each other like giddy fools, Hiyori thanking him profusely and laughing at his contagious laughter. She triple checked the recipe and it’s instructions before rolling up the pastry and brushing it with her egg mixture. Her brother’s regular oven would have to do as she slipped in her creation and shut the door; Hiyori set the timer for 25 minutes and waited. Feeling accomplished, Hiyori stretched her arms above her head, letting her pajamas rise above her belly button.

“You’re up early,” Masaomi said as he walked in. Hiyori whirled around and tried not to look guilty.

“Yep. I, uh, made breakfast!” Hiyori gestured to the oven. Her brother walked towards the tiny island and looked at the index card. He swiped it before she could grab it and scanned it over with a sly smirk.

“Made breakfast for who?” Masaomi held up the card, “this handwriting looks just like my notes.” His eyes looked her up and down as the blush on her cheeks darkened. Instead of looking at him, she glared at the evidence.

“He was nice enough to give it to me since I liked it so much. I made some for us and as a thank you I’m bringing the rest over to share with everyone.” Hiyori explained. The male hummed in an unconvinced way but said nothing more, making his way to the coffee maker.

“Is that right?” Masaomi drawled, “You got up with just enough time to finish by the time they got up to make the bread. Early, early.” Hiyori ignored how her fingers twitched. He sounded just like their mother. That tone conveying he knew she started this process at seven am, not including the prep she did last night.

“A coincidence,” Hiyori insisted. She ignored her brother’s second hum and started cleaning. There was a playfully-tense silence between them as dishes clinked together. Once she was finished, Hiyori made her way towards the stairs

“By the way, Yato should be staying late with me tonight just to go over everything again. He usually stays in the room you’re using,” the grin was wide, “if you felt like sharing.”

“Masaomi!”

As much as her brother teased, Hiyori really was nervous to let him try it. She knew Yato better in the days she spent doing her work in the bakery and Yato doing his work in the Iki home. She knew the professional would only applaud her efforts and that made her feel better. But her hands still grew sweaty as she stood at Kofuku’s back door with a container of this morning’s batch of ‘Yato’s Greatly-Fantastic Ham and Cheese Puff Pastry Slab Pie.’ Sucking in a deep breath, Hiyori chose to knock instead of opening the door. She’s never been here this early and- now that she thought about it- they were probably busy. Before Hiyori could retract her decision, the door creaked open to reveal Yukine, instead of Kofuku like she was expecting.

“Hiyori,” Yukine was clearly surprised, “good morning.”

“G-good morning, Yukine,” Hiyori greeted. He moved aside and let her in. She smiled at his school uniform and he adjusted his backpack with a self conscious smile. Daikoku was hard at work with several lumps of dough, tending to the fire in the oven every now and again. He waved to her, other hand covering a yawn. Hiyori waved back before her eyes automatically looked towards Yato’s workstation.

“Oh wow!” Hiyori gasped. Yato’s table was cleared to leave room for a tall, three-tier wedding cake. The pâtissière was creating bundles of roses against smooth white frosting. Hiyori knew that the wedding was themed ‘Romantic Pink’ so the buttercream flowers Yato made were different shades of pastel blush. The top was decorated with an edible pink bow that cascaded down the first tier while the bottom layer was covered in matching swiss dots. It was simple, elegant, and absolutely lovely for a wedding.

“Hey,” Yato poked out from behind the tower, “you’re here early. Not that I’m complaining.” He put the pastry bag down and gave her his full attention. Beside her, Yukine rolled his eyes and walked over to compare the cake to a sketch on the table.

“I, uh,” Hiyori turned her eyes to the floor as he approached. She felt Daikoku looking over his shoulder and Yukine peaking over the paper, watching the two communicate as best they could. She was used to this by now, they rarely had chances alone without people eavesdropping and teasing. But she found that as they talked more and more, it was easier to shut them out and be in their own little world. Yato’s smile was welcoming and his eyes were so warm, Hiyori was able to proudly hand him her container.

“I made the ham and cheese pastries!” Hiyori said. Eyes round, Yato’s face lit up.

“You did? Really? That’s amazing!” Yato rejoiced, “Can we have some now, please?” He practically wriggled at the thought, running to get some plates before Hiyori could answer.

“Oh, Hiyori made the breakfast thing! Nice!” Daikoku flashed her a smile that Hiyori couldn't help but return, “but wait, there’s not enough.” He looked over her slices as Yato got out the plates.

“Not enough?” Hiyori quickly ran the numbers, “There’s four of you, isn’t there?”

“No, there’s five!” Yato pouted. At first, Masaomi came to mind but Hiyori quickly noticed the boys were all looking at her.

“Wha- me? Oh, no, that’s okay! I made it for you guys!”

“But that’s no fun. What’s the point of eating your cooking if we can’t all enjoy it together?” Yato said. He looked genuinely hurt that she didn’t consider herself but Hiyori really didn’t think it was that big of a deal. Still, she was touched, he wanted to eat her food with her; and flattered he considered this easy dish ‘her cooking.’

“Please don’t worry about me! I just want to know what you think,” Hiyori said to Yato. His cheeks pinked and Daikoku covered whatever gag noise almost escaped Yukine’s mouth.

“I’ll love it, no matter what you make!” Yato’s sudden declaration made everyone’s faces match the red velvet cakes in the front. Hiyori couldn’t take it.

“I-I want to know all your opinions!” Hiyori shut her eyes and winced at the strangled sound that erupted from Yato. She opened her eyes when Yukine let out a loud sigh behind her, arms crossed.

“As- entertaining- as this has been, I have to get to school. So I won’t be able to give you feedback when I eat it.” Yukine said, “I’m sorry Hiyori.” The teen gave her a look of regret. Hiyori waved her hands, giving Yukine a comforting smile.

“Don’t worry about it, Yukine! You don’t have to eat it. School is important,” Hiyori said.

“But I do want to try what you make. I promise, whatever you make next time for sure.” Yukine smiled with his hands put together. He was already expecting her to make them something again, how sweet.

“Okay, sounds good.”

“And don’t worry about what that guy says, he gets excited over junk food.” Yukine huffed, “n-not that your food will be junk, or anything.”

“Thank you,” Hiyori giggled. They ignored Yato’s cries of defense of his various tastes. Straightening his tie, Yukine made his way towards the front exit.

“Don’t leave without breakfast!” Yato insisted, “you need that brain food!” He smiled as Yukine gritted his teeth at his guardian.

“I already grabbed a croissant!”

“Take two! You’ll be hungry!” Yato’s words went without a response, but Yukine grabbed another pastry without looking back. The adults let out a sigh of amusement as the front door jingled with Yukine’s exit.

“I’ll go get the missus then,” Daikoku said, “she’s a real demon in the morning.”

“Oh you don’t have to-” Hiyori tried to say. But Daikoku was out the door leading to their upstairs apartment. The kitchen was silent and Hiyori was made aware of the sudden alone time she had with Yato. She couldn’t bring herself to look at him just yet, the tense air picking up her heart rate and warming her cheeks.

“Do you want a fork?” Yato’s voice cracked.

“Huh?” Hiyori whipped around to look at him, shaky hands putting the pastries on the plates. Yato’s cheeks were flushed and he had a hard time looking at her. Swallowing, Yato pointed in a drawer.

“Forks?” He put on a crooked smile.

“Ah yes! Forks!” Hiyori perked up, “Yes I would like a fork, please. Thank you.” An awkward smile grew on her face as well, which only brightened the hue in her own cheeks. Yato was the first to sputter, blowing out a raspberry before snickering. He tried to cover his mouth, lips pressing together, but Hiyori’s snort had him cackling. Laughter bubbled up in her throat and soon she was leaning against Yato’s shoulder and wiping away tears. They bumped into each other as they raced to the counter, playfully pushing each other out of the way as they reached for a plate of food.

“Oooo, I’m gonna try it!” Yato sang. He waved the pastry towards his mouth like an airplane, grin splitting his face.

“You don’t get to try it if you’re just going to tease me!” Hiyori tried to grab it out of his hand, only for Yato to lean away from her.

“I’m not going to tease you! It’s really yummy, see?” Yato gave it a long sniff, “Mmm yummy!” He snickered as Hiyori let out another unattractive snort and shoved him.

“I’m serious!” Hiyori resisted the urge to stomp her foot as he smirked down at her.

“So am I,” Yato said. Their laughter died down as he put some space between them. Hiyori watched him bring the treat to his lips and bite. There were a couple beats of silence as Yato chewed, Hiyori biting her own lip while he tasted. Finally, Yato let out a pleasurable moan of his own. Hiyori’s body tensed.

“It’s delicious,” Yato praised, “three different cheese? you did it perfectly. Good job.” He spoke so honestly that Hiyori couldn’t help but believe him.

“Thank you,” she replied softly. They smiled at each other for a couple moments before Yato adopted a look of bashfulness.

“So, um, Hiyori,” Yato eyed the pastry in his hand, “you know your brother did a really good job on his friend’s wedding.”

“Wait, his friend’s wedding?” Hiyori asked. Yato blinked at her like she detailed his train of thought.

“Yeah, one of the guys from that party a while ago? Masaomi had just started helping me when he called your brother with the news. I figured it was a good chance for him to start, since the guy probably won’t get too mad if he screws up.” Yato explained. He watched her mouth open and close, then hum in understanding.

“I didn’t know that,” Hiyori told him. Now that she thought of it, that was much more reasonable than what her brother had explained to her. Leave it to Masaomi to exclude important details.

“Yeah, ha-ha,” Yato watched his thumbs dance with each other, “so, um, Masaomi and I are kinda already invited to the wedding as guests. But he’s gonna go as ‘the planner’ so I’ll just be a guest and I wanted to know if you wanted to go with me? Just to, you know, see how well your brother’s work goes and all.” Listening to his words was like riding on a rollercoaster. Some parts went fast while others were slow, the volume rising and falling. Once Hiyori separated his jumbled sentences steam rose from her head. In the midst of her embarrassment, Hiyori wanted to laugh. Here she was trying to convince herself to ask Yato to her friend's wedding only for the pâtissière to beat her to it. Still, she wasn’t going down without a fight. She had to push her burning face aside and look directly at his.

“On one condition,” Hiyori began.

“Yeah?” Yato’s eyebrows shot to his hairline.

“Regardless of whether or not my friend asks you to plan her wedding, you have to come with me as my date.” Hiyori said, her tone leaving no room for argument. Yato took a moment to close his mouth, his Adam's apple bobbing, then his face split into a wide smile.

“Are you kidding? For a second guaranteed date, I’ll plan your friend's wedding for free!” Yato laughed but Hiyori knew he was serious. Still, she laughed along with him, giddy at the fact he agreed.

“Maybe I’ll even have you help me make the food!” Yato proclaimed. Kofuku and Daikoku finally came out from their hiding spot behind the door, snickering at Hiyori who was adamantly refusing Yato’s suggestion, all while the baker teased. Both their faces just as pink as the roses on the wedding cake, or the ham in a homemade breakfast pastry.

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