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sanguineterrain · 3 years

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Brooklyn Honey - Bucky Barnes x Reader

(Repost!) Hello, this is for the lovely @wkemeup’s 9k writing challenge. I decided to go with the song prompt “Life in the City” by The Lumineers. It really reminded me of 40s Bucky.

Title: Brooklyn Honey

Summary: Life in the city ain’t always so pretty, but you’ve got Bucky and he’s got you.

Pairing: 1940s!Bucky Barnes x female!reader

Word count: 2.4k

Warnings: nah

***

“That’s so not how you do it.”

“Sorry, I must’ve missed the day you wrote the manual on how to put up curtains.”

“You sure did, and I can tell you as an expert, the nails aren’t supposed to resemble a mountain range.”

“Smartass. C’mere.”

Bucky’s palm opened and you took a nail, carefully tapping it into the wall.

“Or is it the skyline you’re going for?”

“You’re pretty mouthy for an assistant.”

“I keep it interesting, doll.”

“Is that what we’re calling it?”

“James Barnes, what on earth are you doing in there?!”

Your eyes went wide and you hurried to scramble off the chair you were standing on. Bucky put a hand on your back, shaking his head.

“Buck—”

“I got it, don’t worry. Keep hammering.”

“But—”

“Honey, don’t you trust me?”

“Absolutely not.”

More knocking, faster and louder this time.

“Coming, Mrs. Anderson!”

Bucky buttoned up his shirt, smoothing his pomade-slicked hair back, and went to answer.

You stepped down from the chair anyway, daring to peek around the corner.

He had his arms up, trying to fill the entire door frame and hide the obnoxiously yellow curtains you probably weren’t supposed to have. Mrs. Anderson, Steve and Bucky’s busybody next door neighbor, was a small, shriveled, old woman with a perpetually pinched face that looked like it had been stored in a jar of formaldehyde for the last twenty years. She kept trying to look over Bucky’s shoulder but he wouldn’t let her, moving when she did.

“—could’ve sworn I heard hammering coming from this apartment.”

“Oh! You must’ve heard me fixing my bike.”

“You don’t have a bike, James.”

“Did I say my bike? I meant Steve’s.”

“Steve rides a bike?”

“Absolutely. Keeps him fit.”

“I don’t recall seeing him ever—”

“Well, bye, Mrs. Anderson! Always a pleasure to see you, ma’am.”

She gave another stern look before shaking her head, walking away.

You sighed as Bucky shut the door with his foot, a too sly smile on his face.

“Didn’t I tell you to trust me?”

“I think you might be a worse liar than Steve.”

“Well, ouch, doll.”

“First of all, who’s ever heard of needing a hammer to fix a bike?”

“We can be the first.”

“Next time, I’m answering the door.”

You clambered back onto the chair, returning to knocking in the nails.

“I still don’t understand why you wanted curtains in the first place.”

“It adds a homely touch, doll. Aren’t you the one who’s always complaining about how drab this place is?”

“Of course, but it’s not my apartment.”

“It could be, with how often you’re over,” Bucky said sweetly.

“Keep dreaming, Barnes.”

“I will,” he assured with a smile that could melt butter.

You shook your head and returned to focus on the curtains. True, the first one was beyond help in terms of nail placement, but the least you could do was try and make the next one even.

Bucky had offered at least ten times to do it himself but there was no way he was getting his hands on a hammer after what had happened when he’d tried to install some shelves last winter.

Besides, you were better at decorating when it came down to it. At least, that’s what Bucky kept insisting, letting you do essentially anything you wanted to the apartment.

The chair suddenly groaned under additional weight and you startled as you felt the side of a body press against yours.

“How’s it goin’?”

“Bucky, this chair really isn’t meant for two people.”

“You sure? Seems pretty sturdy to me.”

“Yeah, I’m sure.”

Bucky wrapped an arm around your waist and you fixed him with a look.

“What? Don’t want you to fall.”

“How valiant of you.”

“Ain’t it?”

He hopped off before you could scold him further, grinning up at you.

“Beer?”

“Yeah, thanks.”

Bucky disappeared and returned a minute later with an open bottle for you, holding it so you could sip safely while still perched on the chair.

Then you kept hammering, eyes narrowed as you focused on not hitting anything other than the nail.

Bucky watched from the floor as you did so, leaning back on his hands.

“What’re you looking at?” you asked after a while, glancing at him from the corner of your eye.

He shrugged, a gentle smile on his face.

“The city.”

***

“Honey, I’m home!”

“What did I say about that, Barnes?”

“You said… you’ll love me for all eternity because you’re as sweet as honey?”

“I think it was more along the lines of, ‘don’t call me honey unless you mean it.’”

“I always mean it, Y/N.”

And that was a little more sincerity than you were willing to explore, so you pointed to the bag instead.

“What’s that?”

Bucky grinned, setting a giant paper sack on the counter.

“Lemons.”

“What?”

“Lemons. You know, the little yellow fruits that make you do this?”

Bucky puckered his mouth and smacked his tongue, eyes screwed shut.

“Lemon’s not a fruit.”

“It sure is! Fruit got seeds. Read that in a book about agriculture. We produce a lot of corn, did you know that?“

“Okay, Bucky, the presiding question still remains: why do you have every lemon in the city?”

“There was a good deal at the docks. Dirt cheap for produce. Some guys told me they were takin’ some home for their wives. Didn’t want you to feel left out.”

“I’m not your wife.”

Bucky just grinned. You rolled your eyes.

“I don't know who taught you this, but the way to a girl’s heart is not twenty pounds of lemons.”

“Think of all the lemonade we can make.”

“Unless you’ve also got FDR and his cabinet in those bags, we’re gonna have a lot of leftovers.”

“Look at it this way: no vitamin C deficiency. One less thing to worry ‘bout.”

“Bucky.”

“They’re not all lemons, doll. I got other stuff too. Tomatoes, cabbage, snuck some cucumbers, even bananas.”

You sighed, smiling tiredly. This ration was taking its toll on everyone. You knew Bucky was doing his best, had seen the vegetables and thought of you and how much you missed having cucumber salad and tomato sandwiches like you used to.

“Thank you, Bucky, really. I appreciate you.”

You brushed past him to begin preparing the excess vegetables you three wouldn’t eat this week to pickle. Salt and sugar was going to be hard to gather, but you’d manage. You always did.

“Welcome, doll.”

He beamed, eyes full of warmth as he watched you.

“You gonna stay for dinner?”

“I dunno. Seems like Steve’s gettin’ kinda tired of me,” you laughed.

“Never. ‘Sides, even if he was, doesn’t matter.”

“Oh, really?”

“Nope. ‘Cause you stay for me.”

“And where did you get that idea from?”

He shrugged.

“Seemed kinda obvious, doll. You’re smitten, admit it.”

“Oh dear, you’ve got me all figured out. However did you know?”

“I’m a bright fella.”

“Uh-huh.”

“You ain’t saying no…”

“Really, I have to say no? Can’t you tell I only stick around for the great deals you get on produce?”

“But it’s me that gets the great deals, so really, you’re still staying for me.”

Bucky was against the counter now, shoulder to shoulder with you.

You sighed, hand on your hip as you stared at the table.

“What the hell are we going to do with all these lemons?”

“We’ll figure something out. Always do, don’t we?”

You hummed, leaning your head on his shoulder, aware he was talking about more than the lemons.

“Yeah. We always do.”

***

Steve had been home for a while, wordlessly letting you in when you’d shown up an hour ago. You didn’t have to explain anything to him anymore.

The record player was on, crooning gently. Steve was in the corner, drawing, away from the window after the breeze had whipped his papers around one too many times.

“Can’t believe they’re building another skyscraper down on Lawrence.”

Steve frowned.

“Really? Won’t be able to see the sunset now.”

“Yeah. And Brooklyn’s not exactly known for its scenery to begin with. Saw a rat and a pigeon fighting over a pretzel this morning.”

Steve chuckled from the floor, shaking his head.

“Times are tough. Even for rats and pigeons.”

“Sure are.”

“Nice curtains, by the way. I like the color.”

“Oh. Yeah. Sorry. Did Bucky ask—?”

“No,” he answered, smile evident in his voice. “But that’s alright. I know he’s just tryin’ to gauge what you like.”

“What?”

“Yeah, after the war’s over and all, he’s gonna try and buy a nicer place.”

“And he wants my furnishing tips?”

Steve shrugged, gaze soft and knowing.

“Guess so.”

You cleared your throat, pushing a lock of hair behind your ear.

“Want some lemonade?”

“Jesus, there’s more? I thought we’d run out of bushels.”

“You’d think, right? I put ‘em in the icebox so they won’t spoil so fast.”

“Sure, yeah. Thanks, Y/N.”

You were in the middle of stirring the pitcher when Bucky came in.

He didn’t greet you or Steve immediately, like he usually did, instead setting down his keys, then slapping the mail onto the table.

“Well, hey there, mister. Fancy a drink? Today’s special is sour lemonade, your favorite.”

Bucky looked up, startled, and glanced at the pitcher before nodding, attempting a half smile.

“Sure, doll. Thanks.”

“Everything okay, Buck?”

He nodded, slipping away to the bathroom with a sigh.

You turned to Steve, who shrugged.

“Long day at the docks, I guess.”

***

June twelfth. That was when Bucky was being shipped out, somewhere in Europe, too far from you. This entire year you’d been holding your breath, hoping, needing the draft to leave him alone.

Now they were taking him away from you in less than a week.

You were in the apartment, lying on the floor, on Bucky’s second to last day. That’s how he found you upon coming home.

“Trying to count all the cracks in the ceiling, doll? You’ll be here all night.”

You had a glass of lemonade by your head, spiked with a bit of rum. It was already warm, because it was summer and things were supposed to be warm in the summer.

The curtains danced in front of the window, yellow like sunshine and all those goddamn lemons in the freezer. The only respite from an otherwise colorless world.

“This city is so ugly.”

Bucky looked up at the sound of your voice. He walked over, crouching by your arm.

“Think so?”

“Yeah. Can’t find a single pretty thing in the city.”

“I can.”

“Can you?”

“Sure. She’s looking at me right now.”

“That was sappy.”

“Yes it was.”

Bucky lay down, rolling onto his side next to you, taking a sip from your glass.

“But I ain’t mean it any less.”

You hummed, closing your eyes.

“Well, for what it’s worth then, I think you’re handsome.”

“Oh, yeah?”

You could hear his proud smile.

“Don’t make me take it back.”

“No, I’m just surprised to hear it is all.”

“Surprised, huh? I’m certain I ain’t the first one to call you handsome.”

“You’re the only one I wanna hear it from.”

Something fluttered in your chest.

“What d’you say then? You and I, think we can take on a city as ugly as ours?”

He smiled.

“With you, doll?”

“Yeah.”

“With you, of course.”

“Good. I’m gonna hold you to that.”

Bucky propped his head up on his elbow. It was quiet again, with only your occasional sighs and his quiet breaths.

“What’re you looking at?” you breathed, opening your eyes.

“You.”

Bucky flicked a drop of lemonade from the tip of your nose.

You turned, now face to face.

And oh, Bucky’s blues. Those had been your color even before the curtains.

“I’m gonna miss you,” you blurted.

He smiled a little sadly.

“Gonna miss you too, Y/N.”

You pushed your lips together, taking a deep breath.

“You were right, you know.”

“‘Bout what?”

“That day when you brought home all those lemons. You said that I stay for you.”

Bucky’s lips quirked, gaze fond like it always was.

“All those times I stayed for dinner and pretended to know what I was doing putting up those curtains. I stayed for you.”

You wiped your nose quickly, sniffling.

“And I’m gonna keep staying.”

“Yeah? What if the bridge collapses tomorrow?”

“I’ll swim.”

“Even in the winter?”

“I’ll get myself a pair of ice skates.”

“You don’t know how to skate, doll.”

“That’s right. So you better come back safe and teach me.”

Bucky leaned in, nose brushing your cheek. He rolled over and carefully straddled you, holding his weight.

“I’ll be there, honey.”

“Now what did we say about that?”

Bucky’s eyebrows pinched in thought.

“Don’t say it if I don’t mean it?”

You hummed, pulling him closer, arms around his neck. Bucky’s lips were a millimeter from yours, breath fanning over your chin.

“Mm, I think it was something about eternity.”

Bucky was soft, tangy and sweet. His scruff scraped your cheek and your fingers curled into the baby hairs at the nape of his neck.

He slid his hands under your back and turned so you were on top, head on his chest. You lay like that for a while, listening to his heartbeat, arms strong around you.

Yellow fluttered in the breeze, tacked unevenly onto the wall, catching your eye.

Bucky glanced to the side, chuckling.

“Don’t let Anderson take our curtains away.”

“Of course not. I spent a weekend on those. She’ll have to fight me for ‘em.”

“Good God. Now I gotta worry about you brawling with old ladies and Steve getting into alley fights while I’m gone?”

“Nah. Steve’ll help me.”

“Oh, great.”

You reached up, brushing his jaw with your knuckles.

“Call me honey again.”

“Honey, honey, honey.”

You reached up to get just one last kiss, except it definitely wasn’t going to be the last. It couldn’t be.

“They’re not gonna take you away from me.”

Bucky shook his head, kissing you much slower this time, trying to memorize you before time ran out.

“Never. ‘M gonna think of you and I’ll be back ‘fore we know it.”

You nodded, wishing hard, hoping somebody was listening.

“Then, when I come back,” he whispered, promise riding on the summer air.

“We’re gonna make the best damn lemonade you’ve ever had.”

And maybe this city could take away your sunsets, your tea and jams, even your summer.

But if there was anything that was yours and yours only, it was the lemon pulp on Bucky’s lips and the undissolved sugar on your own, as bitter and pretty as home.

#bucky barnes x reader #1940s bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes fanfiction #kas9kwc #repost for those of you who asked <3

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lannister-slings-and-arrows · 3 years

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I and Love and You

The fifth in Rafael Barba/Reader/Frederick Chilton threesome verse written in collaboration with @pascalispretty . Mood board also by the lovely and talented @pascalispretty !! Yep. We did this. Was it necessary? No. Did we enjoy it? Sometimes. Are you going to read it? I sure hope you do and that you like it! Cross posted on ao3!

Part Five of the series So Much Easier than You Realize

Warnings: Total and complete tooth rotting fluff. Schedule an appointment with your dentists, ladies and germs. Rafael is, as always, a bit of a jackass. You will probably have an incurable craving for breakfast food. And the teeniest tiniest mention of daddy kink. Rating: E for everyone because there is nothing objectionable in this at all, I did not think we could actually write something this sweet lol. Word Count: 3725 Summary: Mornings are for cookies and contemplation.

When Rafa wakes up, he spares a moment to sympathize with his growling stomach. More than one moment, if he’s being honest with himself. He isn’t normally an early riser but his stomach wouldn’t be so empty if he’d been allowed to have his bedtime snack and not rudely distracted by his two partners and an ingenious application of his second favorite blue tie. The result is pleasantly sore abdominal muscles and the rare opportunity to wake up in time to see the both of them still peacefully asleep in bed next to him.

Fred’s back is pressed close to his chest and his legs brush against Rafa’s as he levers himself up onto his elbow to look at her on Fred’s other side. Her face is tucked against Fred’s neck and the doctor’s arms are wrapped tightly around her, and Rafa smiles at them both, still asleep in the soft grey early morning light.

Fred shifts, and an irritable frown passes over his face the longer Rafa uses him to balance himself to stare at the two of them, so Rafa quickly presses a kiss to his temple before settling back down with a sigh.

It’s too early to be up, really, but he’s starving and is not getting back to sleep without eating something. He grunts and sits up before pressing another kiss to Fred’s shoulder. He swings his legs out of bed and grabs a pair of grey sweatpants.

Rafa trudges down the hall to the kitchen. There were still Bugles hidden in the back of Fred’s Tupperware cabinet. Oh shit, had he eaten them all? He flicks on the light to the kitchen and huffs a quiet laugh when he finds a sticky note on the door of said cabinet in Fred’s small, precise handwriting.

Sorry, I ate the last of your chips two days ago. In my defense, counselor, you left them in my house and I was having a very stressful day. I made you cookies instead, they’re on top of the microwave. I figured you’d be up before the both of us this morning since you didn’t get your snack. --An Apologetic Psychiatrist who feels like he shouldn’t be apologizing for eating food in his own cupboards.

Rafa runs his fingers over the note a few times, smiling like an idiot, his heart feeling full and warm and about seven sizes larger than it was when he woke up. He turns his head and sees a plastic container (with a green lid because the green Tupperware was for storage of baked goods as Fred was constantly reminding him) right where Fred said it would be, and when he steps over to investigate it further he finds a batch of white chocolate macadamia nut cookies. Another note is stuck to the lid.

I know these aren’t your favorite. I know that you don’t really enjoy white chocolate. Consider this my attempt to make sure you don’t eat all of these in one sitting. Please limit yourself to two; you aren’t in your 20’s anymore, Rafael, and it’s not even a normal time for breakfast yet, much less cookies. --A Not Apologetic Psychiatrist who doesn’t want your first heart attack to be in his apartment, thank you very much.

Rafa rolls his eyes and peels the lid off, smirking as he deliberately takes three out of the box. He doesn’t hate white chocolate, after all, and he does love macadamia nuts. And he has always had a problem following instructions.

Standing at the kitchen counter, Rafa eats his cookies with a pleased groan, once again thanking whatever saints or angels his mami appeals to for sending him a partner that bakes. Not that he thinks his mother would have prayed for someone at all like Fred. Fussy, officious, arrogant, snobby, and, well, a man. His mother would have had someone like their younger lover in mind however. Smart, pretty, and willing to stand up to his attitude. Most of the time anyways. Well, what did Lucia Barba always say? You can make as many requests of God as you want to but remember that He has a sense of humor too? She got him a little extra than what her original request probably specified.

Rafa snorts at the thought and brushes crumbs off his bare chest, leaning back against the counter and surveying the kitchen in the growing light. He’s still hungry but he knows he’ll hear about it if Fred wakes up and all of those cookies are gone. And today is supposed to be the one day this whole month the three of them can spend just being quiet together with no plans, no work, and no prior obligations. He’d rather not spend it all dodging Fred’s passive aggressive jabs and her pouting looks and quiet pleas to please just be the bigger man and apologize.

He stretches his arms out on the counter behind him and tips his head back, staring absently at Fred’s kitchen ceiling as he contemplates making his way back to bed and napping until Fred wakes up and decides to order in breakfast. He’s nearly settled on that plan when he catches sight out of the corner of his eye of the bright blue note on the cupboard. He doesn’t remember Fred spending any time in the kitchen before the two of them dragged Rafa into the bedroom to put his ties to a much more interesting use. He must have gotten out of bed after Rafa fell asleep to put this together, and Rafa can’t help the smile that spreads over his entire face.

Rafa slaps his palms on the counter and shoves himself off, making his way over to the fridge to see what Fred has in the way of actual food. He’s already awake; the least he can do is make breakfast.

He finds the ingredients for pancakes easily enough--Fred is a stickler for organization. Rafa tries not to make a mess as he moves around the perfectly arranged and spotless kitchen. He stirs the batter by hand rather than risk the noise of the KitchenAid but pauses over whether or not to put chocolate chips in.

She would be pleased, her sweet tooth nearly rivals his own, but Fred would almost definitely be annoyed. Especially because Rafa has already had chocolate earlier in the morning. With a fond sigh, Rafa puts the glass jar back in the cupboard, though not before tipping a few of the chocolate chips out into his hand.

It reminds him of cooking in Fred’s beautiful house in Baltimore, his sweet girl laughing and dancing around the kitchen in one of Fred’s shirts, barely being any help at all. All three of them adore the big, beautiful house that Fred had shyly shown them--as if they could have done anything else other than fall in love with it.

Fred relaxed slightly when it became clear that his guests found the house as beautiful as he did. Rafa tried to help her in slowing Fred down as he showed it to them, asking questions about particular objects or features and pointing out the things they especially admired. Every sincere compliment kept a gratified little smile plastered on Fred’s face--and there was plenty to compliment him on.

It’s clear that it holds a special place in Fred’s heart. It’s so him, every inch of it reflecting back the man who poured so much time and effort and money into making it a home. From the collection of antique medical texts carefully displayed on the shelves to the exact shade of teal velvet upholstery on some of the armchairs, Fred had lavished attention on the house to surround himself with things he loved and found beautiful. It amused Rafa to wonder if he’d taken that into account when he’d invited his partners over; whether they’d laud the elegant aesthetic he’d established in his home.

Shifting the spoon briefly to give his right hand a break from mixing, he smiles at the memory. He’s never actually admitted to Fred how much he likes playing house with his two partners there. Rafa is fairly certain that the kitchen in the Baltimore house is larger than the apartment that he grew up in and he knows that a wine cellar is an absurd luxury. But it’s a place where the three of them are free to be themselves, without worrying about nosy neighbors and doormen.

Rafa snorts quietly, folding the batter briskly to get out all the little flour bubbles. That pretty well explains how he feels about Fred too. Fred is too high maintenance, too abrasive in all the ways Rafa normally hates, too… prep school, but Rafa can’t help but smile indulgently every time he turns his nose up at a meal that costs less than fifty dollars, or every time he gets that prissy stubborn look on his face, or juts his chin out and point blank refuses to admit that he’s wrong (even though Rafa can tell that he knows that he is).

He never apologizes either. Ever. He’ll be proven wrong, he’ll hurt both their feelings, and the closest to any sort of acknowledgment of wrongdoing that the both of them will get will be a cup of coffee in bed the next morning, one of Fred’s most handsome smiles, and the complete and sudden cessation of all hostilities like the fight never happened. Rafa knows that with anyone else that kind of behavior would be a relationship killer.

Rafa looks over the batter and nods to himself, satisfied with the consistency, and balances the spoon against the side of the bowl. He stares at the oven and frowns. Just pancakes hardly make breakfast. Going over to the fridge, he grabs bacon out of its particular place, rolling his eyes as he does so, and tosses it on the counter next to the pancake batter, reaching under the silverware drawer for a frying pan.

Maybe it’s the way Fred ‘apologizes’ with the perfect cup of coffee instead of actual words. Maybe it’s that same perfect cup of coffee that somehow manages to find its way onto his desk at work when he’s too swamped to go out and get one--just because Fred knows he needs it. Or a sandwich from his favorite deli and a quick flash of that handsome smile on Fred’s lunch break.

Rafa gets started on actually cooking said breakfast, hissing and swearing quietly when he gets a first-hand demonstration of why you shouldn’t fry things without a shirt on. Fred would have more than a few words to say to him about the relative intelligence of what he’s doing right now. He grins. Maybe that’s it--the way he cares while trying desperately to make it seem like every time it’s an inconvenience of the highest order.

Maybe Rafa loves Fred because every once in a while, when he’s very drunk, very tired, or the perfect combination of both, Fred slips a little and calls the both of them by those cute, ridiculous southern pet names that before now Rafa would have put money on being more myth than fact. And how embarrassed he is when it is pointed out to him that he just called a forty-something year old man ‘pickle’.

Fred is arrogant, prickly, particular, and both overindulgent and overly judgmental of vices depending on if he himself shares in them. He is a pain to get along with most of the time and sometimes treats the two of them like they’re made of spun gold--things to be cherished and well looked after and shown off to the best of his ability. He’s a contradictory monster and Rafa loves him.

He has a feeling that the smile on his face is sappy and ridiculous, but as he turns the bacon and settles to wait a few more minutes, he shrugs. There isn’t anyone else around this early to see him; his reputation as a son of a bitch and a jackass won’t be ruined. He loves Fred. He loves her. He loves both of them--sometimes so much it’s hard for him to keep it to himself and wait for them to come to the same conclusion. Their individual faults, foibles, and perfections and the way they mesh with each other and fit so surprisingly well in his own life.

Like getting new book recommendations from her--whenever he has the time to actually read something for fun. She leaves them on his home desk with a brief explanation why she thinks he’ll like them. That almost always makes up for the numerous occasions he has gone looking for one of his own books and found it had mysteriously jumped off its shelf and walked itself three rooms over, or managed to find itself completely out of order.

He drains the bacon onto a paper towel covered plate and gives the pan a quick rinse. He loves finding packets of M&M’s in his briefcase or in his suit coat pockets, loves knowing they’re from her and that she braved Fred’s ire to indulge his habit of constant snacking. A habit Fred particularly despises. He loves--most of the time--being a couple minutes late to work some mornings because she got into a nearly incoherent argument with him about what color tie he should wear. He loves that she loves his wardrobe as much as he does.

Rafa loves ganging up with her to tease Fred and loves that she can take some teasing herself. He loves that she just rolls her eyes and plays along when his puckish side emerges and he can’t help but be an asshole even though he can tell she would rather he didn’t.

Rafa starts pouring pancake batter, chuckling to himself when he recalls the mood she’d gotten into the last time his sense of humor had gotten the better of him. While waiting for a table in a restaurant, a strange woman had made a snide comment about ‘men dating women young enough to be their daughters’ and Rafa had been unable to resist feigning outrage and asking what was so terrible about a man taking his daughter out for a nice birthday dinner.

The woman had been mortified, and Rafa had enjoyed the look on her face so much that he’d only hammered the point home further, telling her it was hardly his fault he was a widower and a single parent. He hoped it had taught her a valuable lesson in boundaries. His sweet girl had been so embarrassed but it had been so worth it.

Flipping the first pancake, he thinks about the flaws that come with her youth. She’s always the first one to joke about having daddy issues and Rafa can hardly deny how much he enjoys hearing her call him papi--and Fred daddy--in bed. He just has to try not to think too deeply about it. Not that Rafa really has a leg to stand on where difficult paternal relationships are concerned. But her jokes mask an insecurity and a clinginess that Fred has a habit of overindulging. More than once when he’s been trying to work she’s tried to distract him or cuddle up to him and then gotten sulky when he had to gently but firmly rebuff her.

When he finally finishes work on those evenings, he usually finds her wrapped around Fred instead, giving him a wounded look when he finally emerges from behind his case files. Those looks are wordless guilt trips every time he’s on the receiving end of one--no matter how right he feels in his decision to work instead of play.

And yet somehow she’s worked the same magic on him that Fred has. A flaw that in anyone else would have stopped any idea of a relationship in its tracks is something that he’s come to love about her. Her clinginess comes from a place of emotional fragility and it must be hard to let her partners see that. The fact that she trusts them enough to be so vulnerable around them makes Rafa’s heart swell. He can’t help but love her, even when he’s dealing with her pouting and huffing.

Fred talks about it like Rafa is somehow being ungrateful, that he should drop everything to spend time with his beautiful, smart, young lover, and it drives Rafa crazy. He knows that Fred generally means well when he tries to appeal against his more workaholic tendencies, but he also knows that Fred could retire now and live off his trust fund if he wanted. It rubs him the wrong way when Fred tries to discourage him from working hard because he’s never needed to understand why Rafa works as hard as he does.

He starts stacking the cooked pancakes on a plate on the stove and furrows his brow in concentration. Fred gleefully indulges her in her clinginess, dropping everything to scoop her into his arms or take her to bed. They’ve even taken to napping together with his cock still tucked inside her, as if they can’t bear to be anything other than as close as physically possible. He’s stubbornly blind to the fact that Rafa can’t just drop what he’s doing. If Fred misses a deadline for submitting a journal article the worst that happens is it gets pushed back an issue. If Rafa misses something in his case files or submits something late or fails to prepare as fully as he should, it can ruin lives. Dangerous predators can be let out on the street to offend again. People don’t get the justice they deserve. And even in this day and age, a poor boy with a Spanish name is granted a lot less leeway with employers than a rich boy with a nice American name and family money.

They come from very different worlds, even if Rafa has carefully and thoroughly infiltrated Fred’s, and Rafa loves and hates it a little that Fred forgets that most of the time. Rafa has to always be ‘on’ and can’t afford the same kind of laxness that Fred can.

Sometimes he even has to be ‘on’ at home when he’d rather put his fist through a wall or wrap himself in every blanket in the apartment with a bottle of scotch and pass out. Like when he walks into whichever apartment they’re spending the night at to find Fred in a screaming match with her that he has to moderate. She likes to complain that he and Fred can really get into it like a pair of children, and he isn’t saying she’s wrong—they definitely can—but she and Fred are just as bad. Frankly, the three of them are cut from the same cloth when it comes to being pig headed and it makes for some rather loud and spirited fights.

Like the frequent battles she has with Fred over her occasional smoking habit. They always start out with Fred gently chiding and somehow end up with Fred snidely pulling out his “I went to medical school, therefore everyone else is a moron” voice and her reminding him that he couldn’t cut it as a real doctor and she’ll “smoke a goddamn fucking cigarette every once in a while if she fucking feels like it.” Rafa tries to interfere before it descends to “as much as you like to act like it sometimes, Frederick, you aren’t my father” and “maybe if you knew how to make better choices you wouldn’t be constantly seeking validation from older men,” but he doesn’t always get home in time and instead walks in to the both of them glaring icily at each other or shouting as many deliberately hurtful things as they can.

He likes to leave his courtroom face at work, but it’s generally the only thing that will defuse those battles, or at least calm them down into cold wars. Rafa doesn’t particularly enjoy playing mediator on the best of days, especially not when one wrong word from him will have one or both of them turning on him as another enemy combatant. He likes his occasional cigarette too, and he snacks constantly, and eats terribly; all things that Fred will use to drag him into a fight.

But while he hates trying to calm them down enough to at least stop yelling, he has to admit he loves having people around to yell in the first place. Yes, these fights mean he has to put on his lawyer face when he’d rather get drunk and pass out. But he has people in his life to break up fights between. He can come “home” to people who care about him. People who, when they aren’t screaming, see him come through the door and smile. People who would, and have on occasion, drop what they are doing to bring him something he left at home and needs now. People who drop a sandwich on his desk when he’s working and quietly--most of the time-- leave him to it.

People who care and appreciate him.

Rafa finishes setting plates and cutlery out on the island and starts the coffee maker. He loves having them a few rooms away. He loves knowing that they like him enough to put up with his “shoebox sized apartment”, with him being an incurable workaholic, with the fact that when he gets stressed or angry he lashes out at anyone around him. With the fact that when he does he can be more than a little cruel.

Rafa makes his way back into Fred’s bedroom, wincing as always at how bright it gets when the morning sun fully hits it. He smiles when he sees them still tucked against each other just like he had left them. He loves this view the most.

Rafa grins mischievously. They put up with his innate tendency to be a complete and utter jackass, and that is one more thing he loves about them.

“I just rearranged every single cupboard, bookshelf, and drawer in your entire apartment, Frederick!” Rafa informs the room in general. Loudly.

Fred’s eyes snap open and he sits up, dislodging his sleeping companion without a second glance. His gaze lands on Rafa, who is smirking next to him, and his eyes go comically wide in horror.

“Rafael Barba, you didn’t.”

Tag List: @sassyada, @dreamlover31, @prurientpuddlejumper, @storiesofsvu

#rafael barba x frederick chilton x reader #rafael barba x frederick chilton #frederick chilton x reader #rafael barba x reader #rafael barba #frederick chilton #law and order svu #hannibal #fanfiction #fanfic

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riverdale-retread · 3 years

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Riverdale S5 E6 Back To School

5 Things I Loved/ 3 Things To Consider

The S5 Character Resets are underway and I really love them. Let me count the ways.

1. Jughead the adult is someone who rolls with the punches. I love that he grew out of that boy who was willing to DIE to belong or prove a point or save others and was in general so tense and defensive about who he was. He has a new relationship with the word “weird,” going from the high octane emotionality of I’m a weird weirdo and not your project!!! to this casual, Embrace the weird acceptance. He also has a relaxed sense of humor about his writing (I don’t know, but it makes a good story), rather than the white knuckle performance anxiety he used to have about it. Jughead blatantly fishing out money from the tip jar his students have put on his desk in his classroom to mock him was DELIGHTFUL. I loved it SO MUCH.

2. Toni is basically on a mission to correct the things she didn’t like about her childhood before her own baby arrives and I adore that. Her work started last episode with reclaiming what the Serpent Dance (Female) is, making sure that the Serpents are financially solvent, that Sweet Pea and Fangs are gainfully employed, and giving Archie a bunch of homework about how to rehabilitate Riverdale. In this episode she makes the point that cheerleading is a sport and that Archie needs to get over his Football Supremacists nonsense, and works on getting Cheryl out of her doldrums.

3. Cheryl was always a fragile, tender person underneath her mean girl and theatrical exterior, and the adult character reset seems to be that she’s done with pretending that she’s fine that her brother died. She’s supposed to be done grieving, but she isn’t. For personal reasons, I love this. I understand you, Cheryl. Cheryl used to aggressively hide this part of herself - the no-lipstick self - and I’m not sure that Toni is actually doing the right thing by trying to revive the Red Lipstick Cheryl. That tension is delicious though.

4. Archie and Betty have completely stopped trying to be nice, warm, fuzzy people who mean well. They’ve become the people I’ve been tracking in the retread all along - tough, pragmatic, violent, domineering, and not all that interested in anyone else’s issues/agenda/ problems, including each other’s. I guess I’m in the severe minority, but I love anti-heroes, especially women, so I am getting such a kick out of the shitty stuff they do. Archie, knowing what he knows about how Reggie’s father humiliated him on the football field as a child and the tender, boy-bonding they did in the aftermath, goes charging up to Reggie, when he’s the coach, and just punches him in the face with no hesitation. Holy shit. I love Betty enjoying her own beauty (her hair!) and sexuality (she was always the more sexual one in Bughead), approaching sex as a fun sport activity more than anything else. Betty has no qualms about pretending to be FBI and neither actual law enforcement (Tom Keller) nor law enforcement adjacent (Kevin Keller) dare say a peep.

5. Veronica’s current liberation from the cult of Archie (even if it’s temporary) is a relief to me. When Chad correctly points out that what Archie is asking for - and has always asked for and gotten - from Veronica is a handout, she doesn’t argue or launch into a speech about how wonderful Archie is and how he’s going to save the town or whatever. She just didn’t want her husband to be rude to an old friend by being so crass. Veronica’s also developed some of Hermione’s sadness (because being in a straight marriage is unhealthy for people, as per the Riverdale thesis), but at the same time it’s given her some emotional directness. She no longer seems to need to find The Perfect, Everyone Wins solution. She just says what she wants and needs, to her husband.

Sidebar: So in addition to being Ethel Muggs and Brett Weston Wallis, I’m also goddamn Chad Gekko because Veronica continually pouring money into everything and anything Archie wanted funding for always irked me SO much. Thanks, Riverdale, for the self-realization I’m getting.

Things to Think About

a) Is Archie capable of having sex only in Riverdale? The Music Room basically became the Archie Andrews Sex Room when he was a student. He says he’s dated no one since leaving the town, which Veronica apparently understood to mean he was practically celibate (which I find unlikely; I mean - HAVE YOU SEEN ARCHIE?). I do feel like Archie Andrews is turned on by the Riverdale High School building itself. Betty says My sister who has gone through long bouts of various kinds of instability and involuntary confinement is missing and his answer is Cool, anyway, let's fuck and just propositions her in the teacher’s lounge.

b) Ms Bell is playing all sides of the game (she calls Cheryl about Toni, and then calls Hiram about the Bulldogs) but I can’t tell what game she’s playing. I love that actress - she’s at Dr. Curdle Jr. / Nana Rose levels of interesting and I’m all for having her have more to do.

c) The Serpents really hating Jughead’s book, and then his next book also being something to do with Riverdale made me remember a tidbit my AP English teacher told us about D.H. Lawrence, who would approach someone who looked sad, look at them with his sad blue eyes and tenderly ask, “Whatever is the matter?” and let them pour their heart out, and then, two or three months later, when that person was ENRAGED at their heartache having been turned into a thinly disguised short story for publication, could not understand what the problem was. I think this may be a commentary about this type of writer from the Riverdale writing team - We are the truly creative creators, and better than this dude, might be what they’re saying, because they invent outlandish events rather than trying to do some sort of ‘slice of life.’

#riverdale positivity #riverdale s5

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nsheetee · 4 years

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sweet iced tea | haechan

pairing: music major!haechan x barista!reader genre: coffee shop au | fluff, humor summary: when you meet haechan, you think he might be the most annoying customer you’ve ever had, but you deal with his games for the sake of your bosses. when the cafe’s fundraiser rolls around, you get the chance to hear haechan’s amazing singing voice, and decide that maybe he’s not too bad.

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this is a part of the moonlight cafe series — please read the preface before continuing reading

he swaggers in, tongue pushed against his teeth and hands in his pockets

the bell that chimes above the door is like his personal background music- it follows him all the way up to the counter

you have to say, you’re thoroughly intrigued by the time he gets up to the cash register

he looks you up and down as he leans his elbow against the pastry display case

“hey sweets, where’s tae?” he asks you in a playful voice

“-yong or -il?” you ask, raising an eyebrow and leaning your hip against the counter

he chuckles at your question, lifts his baseball cap off his head to fix his hair, and pulls it back down

you wonder if he’s trying to show off to you- you can tell he’s flexing his jaw and his arm as he fixes his hat

“I'm looking for the moon. he usually works friday nights?”

“not anymore. I work weekend nights now.” your new customer tilts his head, his facade dropping for only a second to show confusion on his face

“does that mean I'll get to see your pretty face here every friday night? beats staring at my stale-bread-looking older brother.”

your eyes widen at his words

this kid is taeil’s brother?

but he’s so..... bizarre and taeil’s so................ normal

“step brothers, right?” the guys smirk drops off his face as he digests your minor burn

he doesn’t have the chance to say anything back because the door chimes once again and more people step into line to order

“is there something I can get for you?” you ask, as if the past 5 minutes didn’t even happen

“a sweet iced tea” he mumbles, pulling out his wallet

you quickly make his drink and decide to add a cookie to his order- just because you would have to throw them out soon anyway and didn’t want to waste them

as you come back to the counter, he raises an eyebrow as he holds out some money

“I didn’t order a cookie?”

you grab his money and place all of it in the tip jar, sliding his food to him

“it’s on the house. I can help who’s next?” you reply skillfully, making him drop any trace of a smile on his face, surprised that you can ward him off so easily

it’s not the last time he comes into the cafe

absolutely not the last time

he never told you his name, and you eventually decide to ask taeil if he’s actually related to the weird guy that comes in to bother you every friday night

“oh, haechan? yeah, that’s my little brother,” taeil laughed wholly when you talked to him, “just give him whatever he orders and keep the receipt, I'll take care of it.”

despite getting his drink for basically without charge, he always orders the least expensive thing on the menu: a sweet iced tea

but that doesn’t stop him from leaning over the counter to very loudly ask you to add in a few extra pumps of sweetener

he sits in the middle of the cafe, in the center of all the buzz and craziness when the friday evening rush hits

he keeps his straw permanently in his mouth, leaning back on two legs in his chair, and scrolling through his phone

of course, whenever you leave your area behind the counter and venture out to the tables to hand out orders, he always has to add in his little, extra comments:

“woah, six iced americanos? it’s not dead week yet. you better tip the amazing barista that had to put up with you!” he practically screamed across the cafe and pointed a blaming finger at the group of girls who ordered the iced coffees

when it seemed like every person was ordering a million food items, he took the initiative to come help you “okay, what do you need me to do?” “haechan, you’ll get in trouble, you can’t be back here.” “actually, I can’t get in trouble ‘cause I don’t work here.” “that’s exactly why you’ll get in trouble.”

“excuse me, ma’am, this is not what I ordered. I'm gonna need a reimbursement.” he taps his cheek, “in the form of a kiss.” “haechan, please be quiet before I have to quit my job out of embarrassment.”

pretty soon, his “helpfulness” turns into the aspects of your friday night shift that make your eye twitch and probably the reason you found a gray hair this morning

you hope with the presence of your bosses this friday night, haechan will tone it down- or even better, not show up at all

but alas, he walks into the cafe right on time

“woah, what’s going on here?” haechan approaches the cash register where you’re counting money, but looks towards the brick wall of the cafe where taeyong and taeil are setting up a small stage, a backdrop, some strobe lights, and a sign that reads “Moonlight Cafe Karaoke Fundraiser!”

“can’t you read? knowing you, probably not.” you don’t look up from your counting and haechan pouts at you

“aww, c’mon, don’t be like that.” he leans his head between your face and your hands, blocking your view of the money

“I lost count, thanks.” you sigh, restarting your counting

“it’s okay!” haechan sings, “I'll help you.” he reaches his whole hand into the penny compartment and dumps out the coins on the counter, counting them one by one

“haechan!” taeil greets his younger brother with a clap on the back, “you have to join our fundraiser next friday night.”

“sorry, I only join fundraiser where I take my shirt off or eat.” haechan sighs and shrugs while you fake gag at his words

“oh, this is right up your alley. for every whole song someone sings for the crowd, we’ll give $25 towards the remodeling of the auditorium.” taeyong replies this time, and haechan perks his ears up

“that’s all I have to do? bro, I'm gonna make you bankrupt.” haechan lays his hand sympatheticly on taeil’s arm

“I think there should be a requirement to have a good voice to even consider singing a song.” you speak up, finally finishing counting the money in the cash register and fully joining the conversation

“oh, haechan has a good voice.” taeyong speaks up, “he’s a music major.” you're eyes turn into the size of dinner plates as you look between your bosses and haechan

“really?” you never thought about what haechan’s major is, but you never in a million years would think it’s music

maybe it’s because his shrill yelling every friday night has absolutely ruined your like for even his normal speaking voice, you can’t fathom what his singing voice sounds like

“oh, now I'm definitely singing next friday night, if anything then to prove y/n that I'm a god when it comes to music.” haechan leans closer to you, bopping your nose to gain your attention and stun you at the same time, “I'll serenade you, sweets.”

you grimace at the feeling in your chest his pet name brings you, and even more at how he smirks at you

it’s not the first time your heart feels like it’s about to fly away when you look at him, and you’re at the point where you’re hitting yourself for falling deeper into your feelings

you can’t help it, something about him is irresistible to you

no matter how much you want to rip your hair out whenever you’re around him

“maybe I'll quit before friday.”

but you don’t

and before you know it, the next friday night rolls around

the cafe is more packed tonight than any other night you’ve worked, and for the first time, taeyong and taeil are behind the counter working with you to provide food and drinks for everyone that comes in to enjoy the music

just like any other friday night, haechan walks in through the doors

the jingling of the bells seem to sound different when it’s him pushing the door open

your heart dumbly flips when you make eye contact with him; he’s more dressed up tonight, the top few buttons of his button up undone, wearing an expensive looking watch

you can tell he styled his hair and really tried with his look tonight

and man, it’s definitely affecting you

“your drink, haechan.” you slid over a straw and his sweet iced tea

“aw, it’s so cute that you memorized my order.” he coos and rips open the straw, sticking it into the lid

“it helps that you order it every time you’re here.” you mumble

he begins to walk away as he sips, but abruptly stops and turns around

“is there... extra sweetener in here?” he asks, looking up at you with the most perplexed face you’ve ever seen on him

haechan didn't even have to beg for you to add any extra pumps this time

“yeah,” you mumble with your head down, pretending to focus on wiping the counter, “for good luck.”

“you’re getting too soft with me, sweets” haechan walks back to the counter, taping the spot you keep focusing on to make you look up at him, “don’t stop. it’s cute.”

and with that he walks away, leaving you to attempt to hide the affects of how much his words moved you

soon, the fundraiser starts and several people go up on stage to sing a song

you meet doyoung and johnny, who are both close friends of taeil and taeyong and who also graduated from this same university

when they got up on stage to each sing a song, you were absolutely blown away by their talent and their voices

even taeil went up to sing, and you were amazed by his powerful and skilled voice

it only made you more curious about haechan

it has been almost an hour, and he still hasn’t gone up to the mic for his song

you wonder if he chickened out, but when taeil finishes, haechan stands up from his seat and walks to take the mic out of taeil’s hand

you move from behind the counter to lean against the other side of it next to taeyong, getting a good look at the stage where haechan is plugging his phone into the speaker

“hello everyone. I'm haechan, taeil’s brother, here to make my him and taeyong go bankrupt,” the audience laughs at his small joke and haechan eats it up, making you scoff

“this song is for the pretty barista who I've been flirting with for the past few weeks. I don’t think she noticed, so I hope this makes my intentions clear.”

he looks straight at you as he speaks, making your eyes widen at his unexpected words

you look over at taeyong for an explanation, but he only shrugs and laughs

the music starts, a slow and swing-y melody rings out of the speakers and stuns you

haechan is actually going to serenade you

with the cafe lights dimmed and the only focus on haechan, he looks like a different man than from what you’ve gotten to know these past few weeks

he looks a bit more serious; he makes eye contact with you from across the cafe, yet still somehow draws the entire audience in with his lush singing

for a second, you forget where you are

haechan’s voice is that powerful

his voice, which was formerly imprinted in your mind as the eagle-like screeching he likes to use when at the store, is now reminding you of the smooth milk you steam for lattes, and the cotton of newly washed bed sheets, and of everything that makes you melt from utter softness

it feels like he’s singing directly to your soul, and the lyrics make you blush:

“I found a dream that I could speak to, a dream that I can call my own.” he walks off the stage, down the steps and through the maze of tables and chairs

people move to let him through, some chatter rises as he walks towards you

“I found a dream to press my cheek to. A thrill that I have never known.” he approaches you, and taeyong holds you in place as you try to squirm away from the spot light

“Oh, yeah, you smile and then the spell was cast, and here I am in heaven. For you are mine, at last.” as the song ends, people clap for haechan and the cafe lights turn on

he doesn’t look away from you, keeping the microphone comfortably pressed to his lips

“hopefully, I can call you mine?” he asks you in a whisper, but his voice is still amplified by the microphone

the audience anticipates your answer, an eery quietness blanketing the room, all eyes on you

you stay silent, the amount of attention on you making you scared to speak up

“just say yes!’” taeil calls out from his seat, “please, he’ll be so annoying at home if you don’t. I'll give you a raise!” the crowd laughs and haechan sends his brother a glare before turning back to you

“yes, okay.” you finally respond and the cafe erupts into applause

haechan hands the mic to taeyong who walks it to the next person at the stage

soon, everyone forgets about you and haechan as the lights dim once again and the next person begins their song

haechan takes taeyong’s spot next to you against the counter

“you couldn’t ask me out like a normal person?” you whisper, turning to him

“that wouldn’t be any fun. plus, your face was so red. I'll never forget this.” he cackles silently

for a minute, you both stand in comfortable silence while watching the next person perform an upbeat song that has the audience singing and clapping along

the colorful strobe lights above the stage are turned on and they swing around the cafe, making you feel like you’re in a kaleidoscope

“you’re serious, right? about going out with me?” haechan’s tentative tone makes you turn to look at him

he’s leaning into you, his eyes curious and slightly nervous

he’s worried you might’ve been pressured into saying yes with almost a hundred people watching you

you take note how he looks more nervous asking you this question than performing in front of a whole room of people

the colorful lights hit his tan skin every once in a while and a few beads of sweat roll down his forehead from performing

he may be a bit annoying at times, but you decide that you wouldn’t have it any other way

“of course, I'm serious.” you reassure him

he smiles brightly at you, and you reach out to pinch his cheek lovingly

he laughs some more, leaning in abruptly to peck the side of your head and letting out an obnoxious “mwah” afterwards

“is it too late to take it back?”

“nope, sorry. you’re stuck with me, and I expect you to put extra sweetener in my tea every time from now on.”

“yeah, in your dreams.”

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iamtheempress · 3 years

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Highly Motivated~

Lets Talk: part 2

A week is all it took, alot faster than Dabi expected.

The league took her in as one of their own and it was comforting to say the least, just as comforting as any detached homicidal family could be to someone who was nothing but sweet and a change of pace… almost innocent in a twisted sort of way.

Toga had taken a liking for her almost instantly, Chiaki's charming and womanly disposition really stood out to her and grit drew her in quickly; gossiping and having another woman around made Chiaki feel a sense of camaraderie, a sisterhood almost, made her heartache to see her little sister again.

While still under the watchful eye of the men of the group, the same men she fought against with the other UA students and under the same monicor of being labeled a pro hero… so the wary behavior was quite understandable. Kurogiri had made it very clear she was to stay within the hideout until further notice to figure out what the hell to do with her, to quell Shigaraki's nerves and to act as the designated healer and if god forbid anything happened.

Chiaki obliged respectfully, head low and a sweet little smile on her face-unlike Himiko’s whose toothy grin was unmistakable and sinister to everyone- granting her a bit of positive attention from the men of the group after she displayed the extent of her quirk and its versatility.

That notice went up about 2 days into her stay in the hideout, this being exactly what Dabi had wanted from the beginning, he knew just the tip of the iceberg of what this girl could bring to the group.

Her assistance was needed in the worst way possible, upon receiving contact from Compress she was notified that Spinner and Twice were injured the day after she had shown up.

Twice being worse for wear than Spinner. She ordered him to lay down in the living room of the hide out, after complying to do as she says he lain back and watched her, his vision shifting in and out, with gentle hands and a deep breath placed a hand directly on an open wound that punctured his lung, which in all reality should have killed him.

By some miracle it didn't- and she spent 50 minutes concentrating on making sure he was healed up, relaxing him with a hot towel and the most comforting tone of voice she can muster, within what felt like several hours, she healed the puncture wound and had made sure he had the ability to breathe, even keeping a conversation with him talking about anything and everything, sometimes talking about her family and sibling.

Impressed with her quirk he commended her and thanked her profusely, calling her an 'angel' of all things, making the ex pro brim with relief and exuding pride from every orifice, Dabi remaining close to her to see her in action. Also because she had a natural radiant pull to him he couldnt put his finger on, he chalked it up to her being so sweet and generous to a bunch of nightmarish degenerates like the league.

Shigaraki, on the other hand, kept his distance, eyes trained on her like a Tiger to prey who knew of his whereabouts, skeptical and wary of her in general, a hero turned villain in such a short time is jarring, he couldn't trust it- to say the least, but she had to fit into work with them.. when she was around his dialogue with her was short and curt, staring too long at her made her feel nervous, he liked that, knew her place with them in the league and where she stood as a villain.

It was a particularly long Saturday night, the rain coming down like a monsoon, some members of LOV had just returned with their spoils after robbing a convenience store of all their food and necessities, Toga had taken advantage of her quirk to go 'shopping' as a nobody student from UA for new clothes, disguises, and snacks for her new friend.

Toga was cryptic about this surprise since the moment Chiaki woke up that morning, she had insisted on hanging out with Chiaki to take her attention from the tall dark and handsome man who had yet to return since Twice was still gone with him.. Toga stood outside of the bathroom, keeping her ear pressed flush against it listening to her try on clothes.

"Chiiiiaaaaki-chan? Put your new threads on yet, beautiful?" Toga called to her getting changed in the bathroom, she had taken the liberty of 'borrowing' a couple hundreds of dollars worth of clothes for her to wear so she's not wearing only the hoodie she came in.

"Almost.. did you have to get me a pushup bra?" She chirps behind the door pulling the tube-topped romper up her body and snapping on her chest, a simple but… really expensive looking purple, white, and yellow flannel shirt she pulled on, followed by kitted out combat boots with metal plating on the toe and heel, some shiny steel running up the sides as well whether for aesthetics or for actual combat she didn't know yet.

"Well ya know Dabi and I need something nice to look at too, hun. Who knows maybe if you put out more maybe you'll get lucky"

Chiaki snorts loudly, while Chaiki and him were not that serious yet...she shares his bed and even goes out of her way to make sure he's healed and ok when he returns which was twice this week alone, it was a welcomed sort of comfort he never knew he needed, a sense of being and safety, that sort of life is very fleeting. Especially for criminals like him and he knew this, he didn't have any plans of making her anything more than his accomplice, a partner in crime for when the day comes where he leaves the League.

Chiaki exits the bathroom in the outfit that fit her too well, her long two-toned hair down, she actually killed the look pretty nice.

Toga’s eyes widened and a giddy look on her face sprawled from ear to ear, the girl bounced over to her and took her by the hand.

"oooo! You're such a looker! I think the girls here could be showier but I can tell you want to leave a little to the imagination, I think Dabi would like to see more skin~" she winks and gives a little tug to the front of the suit, the new little pieces of Jewelry that were given to her hung just shy of the swell of her chest tinkled at the movements

"I mean like i guess. I can’t just parade around with them on full display, how much of a spectacle do you want me to be?"

Chiaki says as she notices Himiko staring right over her shoulder and up Chiaki gulps and whips her head around to see Dabi, dripping in water looming behind her like a shadow, his thumbs thrusted into his front pockets, arching forward as the shirt clung to his front from the rain as well as his spiky inky black hair to his forehead, all while grinning like a Cheshire cat down at the woman he shares his room with.

"I wouldn't mind that, little mouse." His sweet velvety voice humors her and chuckles to himself moving to loom above the woman, examining her pretty face for any sign of protest as his hand slid into his pocket and one into his wet hair.

Chiaki blushes brightly as well as Himiko thoroughly enjoying the little trap she set up, Himiko's hand finding her own cheek and winking devilishly.

"Hehe oops! Mighta saw him the whole time behind ya, Chiaki-chan~ my bad! Seeing you flustered is super cute anyway.. Ill see you two later." the little homicidal girl turns on her heel and trots away "you suck Toga."

She calls out tucking platinum-blonde hair behind her ear and crossing her arms over her chest, foolishly avoiding the bright blue eyes that bore holes through her head.

"So...Toga went 'shopping' for you? That's sweet.. I’ll remember to look for things in your size when I’m out again." Chiaki lifts her head and cocks a brow at him and gently pokes a finger into his chest, the white tee he sported always looked as if it was about to fall off him from how low the cut is.

"Oh c'mon now, you wouldn't know what i'd like to wear if it hit you in the head, your clothes look like they'll turn to cinders at any moment" she pulls the loose tee from him and lets it stick back to his belly. “Pff.. when they're not soaking wet like i went for a swim, maybe.” He chuckles “How the heck could men even walk around like this and not feel uncomfortable.. I get even a little water on me and I feel like I need to change." He stands back and wrings some water from his shirt out onto the floor, listening to her words and keeping mind of how her voice dips when she questions him like a mother worried for her child's health.

“Unlike women i don't have a reason to cover my chest all the time, not that i'm saying i've looked or anything but that sweatshirt you came in didnt do you much justice.” His voice remained flat and his lips lined straight as if he didn't just make a jab at the fact she's physically ‘gifted’.

“It was raining that day and i wasn't about to take a whole wardrobe with me, and I can't tell if your being charming or an ass” Dabi’s eyes remained trained on the woman before him, pretty sapphire eyes that made her nervous, they were occasionally void of emotion but when he looked at her she saw some little twinkle in his eye, like he had plans for her he just didnt know what for yet; another reason why she's so sweet and chummy with him.

“Could be both could be neither, got a problem with that, mouse? I could just go around shirtless all the time” She rolls her eyes and leans all the way back and her brain flashes back to the first and only time she's seen him shirtless, the first night they met and she stayed in his bed.

The rest of the nights she would go to sleep without him to accompany her, his little solo missions going without her knowing where he was or when he would return; he did however return and when he did he would watch her sleep with the tv on and watch whatever movie she had on.

Getting to know her interests while she slept was easy to do, sitting up late and having a cigarette, making fun of the way she snores and mumbles in her sleep. Down to looking at the 8 gold earrings in her ears, little gold hoops that hugged her lobes from the top of her ear to the bottom. This sort of thing was a part of his plan to get to know her alittle bit more, his future accomplice.

The strange young ex-hero raised hundreds of questions for him.

"But of course I think you would have a problem with that,” He commented, startling her from her thoughts, he shook remaining water from his choppy black hair and glowerered down at her with a heady look in his eye, whether it was actually him becoming flirtatious or joking around is left up to debate, maybe ti was just to mess with her and make her flustered. “I wouldn't want to.. 'be a spectacle'... a man has to leave at least 'a little to the imagination'." He chuckled darkly, his smile returning to his face to make her more flustered then she already is.

Chiaki’s face became more flushed pink, Dabi closed the gap, and left only about a foot or so between them both, the gesture purely meant to make her nervous and give him all her attention, since she seemed momentarily distracted.

Despite the height difference she had an impact on him he couldn’t overlook, both with her quirk and her charm. Chiaki had an appeal to her that was new and one he wasn't even close to becoming bored of.

He didn't know much of her yet but he desperately wanted to break down those walls and get to know her at her most raw, have some control over something in his life, something consistent.

"I dont think wet clothes… constitutes as little to the imagination, Dabi.." she feels her heart get momentarily caught in her throat.

Dabi looked her up and down, his hands anchored on either side of her head making Chiaki's eyes widen and a blush creep up her neck, his face dipping down abit closer to fluster the woman before him

“Hm.. so you’re saying you’d prefer to see me shirtless more, eh?" His head dips down just slightly, his intense blue eyes never wavering from her own. "Th-Thats not what i meant! I mean I have looked but… cant blame a girl for looking, Dabi..." She rises to her tippy toes finally working up enough courage to kiss him, Dabie remained unmoving but parting his lips with his eyes half lidded, before the moment is cut short by Kurogiri placing a hand on her shoulder and pulling her attention from Dabi in a snap.

“Huh?” She jumps and looks the second in command in the face with a blush. “Our leader has returned and has some injuries that needed to be tended to. See him immediately.” He commanded and left her shell shocked for a moment, eyes flickering from Kurogiri back to Dabi, embarrassment coursing through her veins and she wished for a split second she could fade away and vanish like her mom's quirk allows her. Dabi rose back up and sneered, peering down the hallway to where Kurogiri left. “it's about damn time he asks to see you.. Talk about timing huh?” He rasps and backs away from her.

“I-I'm sorry we can-” He shakes his head, with a light chuckle. “Not now, little mouse, besides…” He pinches her soft cheek between his thumb and index finger, she closes her eye and his hand flattens gently against her face, long fingers with calloused pads graze over her skin and the cold staples touch her cheek.

“I dont think your ready for me yet… dont need you making a mistake and ruining this little companionship we have going on so far,” He holds her chin when he sees the look of sadness wash over her eyes. “Hey.. im not rejecting you, silly little mouse. We sleep in the same bed for fucks sake.. Besides.. We have alot to talk about after your done with...the flaky motherfucker upstairs…” His thumb swipes her bottom lip and he pulls away. “Pretty lips like yours need to be savored, appreciated in time…now.. go to him before he bitches and moans…” He growls and uses the heel of his hand to bump out a cigarette and light it with his fingers.

She turns on her heel red in the face and trots to the opposite side of the building to the door with the most… dust on the floor.

Chiaki contemplates how she holds her fist to knock and raps on the door, her sweet voice calling to the evil hidden behind it. “Shigaraki? It’s Chiaki… Kurogiri sent me to take care of your wounds.” She goes to open the door only to be met with resistance to the doorknob and it being opened quickly, a leering face hovering inches away from him, followed by white and blue toned hair. He was a lot less intimidating than he presented himself to be. She couldn’t describe it properly..

“Oh. It’s you…” He turned his back to her, the blood seeping through his shirt as he staggered back into the half-darkened room a hunch to him. “I told Kurogiri I’m fine but if he’s going to.. Make a big fucking deal about it...get in here and shut the door, Ikeru...” He commands and she follows him.

The tall gangly man striding right in and sitting on the edge of his bed moving his controller to the side, he had a tv on with a video game paused awaiting him with heavy metal coming from the tv itself.

She looks around and furrows her brows when his shirt is lifted above his head, a loud hiss comes from his chapped lips.

“God.. dammit… shit stings.. Augh you better be worth the trouble…” He groans, moving and wincing, she kneels on the bed behind him and within seconds he’s got the controller back in hand. “Just relax. I know what i'm doing, Tomura..” she cracks her fingers and a soft glow emits from her palm as she looks over the wounds in his back.. They were fatal at best.

Deep gunshot wounds and even some exit wounds from his front. “How the hell are you not dead..” She says placing a hand on top of the open wounds earning a snarl and a loud expletive.

“FUCK! Warn me when you do that!” She recoils her hand as he whips his head around. His high pitch grating voice startling her and shaking the room almost, the look of fear in her eyed as he flexed his hand open and close. She looks down and nods her head apologetically. “I wont do it again ill let you know, Tomu-” she starts and lifts her head to look at him and he interjects. “Its boss to you.. Got it?” His voice becomes grave, she takes in a breath and offers a weirdly out-of-place smile.. “Yessir.”

His whole body cringes at the very sight of her being so calm about the situation.. His attention is redirected to the tv screen and hes back to playing his game. “Im gonna touch that spot again, boss.” He groans annoyed already, she warns and places that hand on his back and he flinches instinctually from the contact. She watches over his shoulder, him playing a violent video game, his character decked out in the most overpowered armor and weapon he can find. She lets out a breathy chuckle watching him struggle with a boss and get killed, he cracks his jaw and shakes his head. His free hand going to his neck to scratch in frustration.

“I used to play that game a lot. Still do actually. You do know there’s a dual axe weapon on top of the spire to face that boss right. Greatswords don’t do shit to him.” She boasts behind him, concentrating all her energy straight into his back. Shigaraki’s eyes grew wide and he turned his head slowly to look at her.

“You play videogames?” He stared wide eyed at her, Chiaki shrugs and smirks.

“Yea, played alot while i was in UA.” She chuckles and it only makes him narrow his eyes and slowly turn his head back around, his tongue sucking his teeth and paying attention to the screen as he went in the direction she mentioned. “Other hands going for your back.” She states, Shigaraki grunts and furrows his brows as her other hand meets his hard back, his musculature was strange; skinny but dense muscles.

He claims the dual axes and checks their stats and he nods and leans a bit back into her hands. “Thanks…” He mutters and goes to face the boss he was struggling with, succeeding after the first round and he snickers awkwardly and goes back to complete silence. “Y'know probably would have dusted this controller had you not told me that.” The ex-pro beamed and her very essence radiated from her to the point Shigaraki shook and raised his shoulders in a weird feeling of discomfort. The positive energy was all too unfamiliar to him, he noted this being a part of her quirk, making him cringe.

“Thank you, boss, happy to help.” He scoffs and feels her wipe the dried blood away. “Heh. Shut your mouth, don't be an ass kiss, bitch.” he growled and when she pulled her hands away from his back she shot back at him with a laugh “Not so much an ass kiss more of which just bein genuine.” “GENuine...that’s new,” He laughed, his high pitch voice dropping an octave as he puts his controller in his lap as a cutscene starts up for the next level.

“If you couldn’t tell already, I'm not so much...used to people being nice or…*genuine*. Mostly used to people being conniving and doing for themselves.. The amount of people who joined us to try and do something idiotic is at best impressive and fucking stupid… coming in trying to call shots to people who already know what they want and know where there going.” She listened sitting beside him on the bed, his voice straining when he spoke of people doing things for themselves, his fingers flexed and curled when he looked at her, she knew what disaster those very hands can bring.

It made her wary and extremely aware of her own mortality.

“When Dabi mentioned you about a couple months ago, we couldn’t find a damn thing about you… why is that?” He sits back and his voice wavers in the sentence emphasizing words to make her wary. She did her best to not bend or falter.

“You're not like AllMight or any of the other pros so why couldn’t we find a damn thing on you...You're out in the public eye every time we looked up news coverage of you. Everything seems surface level, your name, age.. hero name..hell we’ve even fought you on numerous occasions, almost had all 5 fingers around that neck of yours.” His eyes were staring at her beyond the long hair.

As if analyzing her face for any sign of any irregularities, she caught his eye and almost jumped out of her skin.

"Well, Im 19 and i was like.. Not even a year into the whole pro hero thing, I worked for the heroes society as something fresh and new.” She rubbed her palms together nervously, Shigaraki nodded his head looking forward.

“i guess you could say, since i am kind of young to be a pro I had this demeanor of being easy to manipulate so they sought me out for big trafficking rings and elaborate mafia rings, find escape convicts to bring back to Tartarus or other Quirk Prisons. I was roped in to be the ‘beacon’ for the agency or me to round them up on my own and bring em in, and with my dad… being a fuckin awful person and a vigilante and my mom being one of the retired pros from America, they wanted to ‘make a new face for heroes’ or whatever..” His entire back was arched forward, hunched to the point where the vertebrae in his back shown through the dense scars that litter his flesh, Chiaki bared her truth and admitted while she put up her hands, showing herself to be vulnerable in the situation, Shigaraki is the most wanted criminal out there anyway, and most volatile as far as lethality goes.

“I came at my own volition and I hope that.. You find my presence positive in your league, and you find me more than just a ‘private nurse’ and send me out every once in a while, I mean hell I don't even know where we are!” Shigaraki absolutely preened externally, his chest puffing up.. If she was an asskiss-or as good of an accomplice as she entails, he keeps that thought on the forefront of his mind.

“Don't press your luck. We will find a place for you and you will see plenty of bloodshed, and as far as our whereabouts right now stands,” He turned his head and lifted it back as he directed his focus to the television once again, his red eyes blank and face deadpan, he let out a rumbling breath his chest rising and a wolf line grin spreads across his face, his lips splitting as his teeth ground back and forth. “Before you get to chummy with your boss... “Let's keep it that way, Ikeru Chiaki…” He cracks his fingers long fingers.

It’s within an hour that Dabi has become antsier, waiting for the woman he's been bunking with to exit Shigaraki’s room, he was seated in the main area where the fully stocked bar was, peering up the stair case for the little woman, no such luck yet.

He tapped his cigarette and took a long drag of it and turned back forward to look at his reflection in the bars mirror behind the bottles, contemplating if she found solace with Shigaraki over him. It actually made his blood boil as he closed his eyes and put his forehead in his hand, pushing the emotion he was desperately trying to drown out.

Puffing the smoke from his nose he opened his eyes to see Toga standing close to him in the reflection of the bar mirror, it made him jump.

“Did you see what's been on the news on repeat?” Toga asked him, grabbing his arm and lightly shaking him.

His eyes were bored and flat.

“No.. more about us I assume.” He put it between his two tone lips and took a shallow inhale, “No its about Chiaki-chan!” Dabi raised an eyebrow and snuffed out the cigarette, he grabbed the remote and turned on the television hanging up in the bar, the 32 inch tv clicked to life to show the news anchor man with a picture of the hero in her normal gear, In bold text beneath the anchor “PRO HERO WITCH GONE MISSING: DAY #7”

“The search for the pro hero is still ongoing! She was reported missing in the middle of the night from her friends who came to talk to her, after the fight that morning with the villain known as ‘BlueFlame’ where they were seen to be on common ground, before the building collapsed killing 5 people,” Dabi focused on the tv screen as Spinner, Compress, and Twice entered the room watching the screen of that day. “ the new infiltration specialist is of much importance to the hero society and has a hefty reward for her return alive, her father Negate, offers no word on her return besides the statement ‘she won't be happy to see me’-” Dabi tuned everything else out and stood up from his chair.

“Infiltration Specialist… you think perhaps she'd be working against us?” Compress asks Dabi who continued to stare at the staircase. “I don’t think she would betray us like that… she has no idea where we are anyway..” After a moment of agonizing silence, he had one thought in mind, and then a foolproof plan, his face remained stoic and unwavering.

Infiltration specialist. His interest in her is only blossoming.. Beautiful, fresh faced, and new to him, his intentions may be malicious in the long run none of those malicious plans ever involved going against her… in fact he saw her at his side...made his heartthrob in his chest, making him stumble briefly.

He makes it to the door and before he could even knock he heard a familiar female voice curse from behind the door, followed by the bed creaking. His eye twitched and he leaned his head against the door.

“Goddammit did you have to have the biggest one…” She questioned Dabi's imagination going into a tailspin, he brought his head from the door with his brow furrowed, his head moves closer to the door to confirm if what he heard was actually what he thinks is going on beyond the door. “Bitch, you know i wouldn’t be the best without it...now hold still and this will end quickly.”

Shigaraki chuckles followed by the bed creaking and him cursing. “Fuck you!” She whines and Dabi pulls his head away from the door his vision going red and his fists clenched as he swung the door wide open only for his heart race to slow down and his hands stopped burning blue as he focused on a shirtless Shigaraki leaning his elbow on Chiaki’s shoulder as they played that goddamned video game.

“Oh hey Dabi! Sorry, i didn’t come out sooner, Tomura gave me another controller-god fuckign damn you and your stupid ultimate!” She cusses as she loses against Shigaraki, miserably at that… Shigaraki groaned loudly as he pinched his brow, grabbing a shirt that she gave him that he neglected to put on. Shigaraki puts his controller down and turns to look at him. “What do you want.. Better be good for barging in like that, Dabi…” He glowers teeth clenched tightly in his jaw, punctuating his name.

“So that wasn't…- anyway, so when you were a hero… you were an Infiltration specialist… That's why we couldn't find anything on you. Right?” she nods and tilts her head confused

"y-yeah how'd you know that? I only just told Shigaraki." She questioned, Shigaraki's eyes flickering over to her, knowing this already.

"Your secret is all over the news." Her eyes widened and she blunk quickly watching Shigaraki turn on the other tv and flick to the news shown her face and the news caster. "Ill tell ya.. if you were still a hero id say your cover was blown by whatever shitty agency revealed to the world that your a covert type'a hero, sucks honestly." He tsks and returns his attention to Shigaraki, a knowing grin spread slowly across his face.

"What the hell are ya lookin at me like that for, eh?" Shigarakis eyes narrowed and his voice became raspy and on edge.

"I have a plan… and this little ‘pro’ is at the core of that very plan." Shigaraki tilts his head and looks to her his jaw tightening once again. "Can you two plan… not in here… if you're thinking how I think your… thinking… i'd like to dwell on it.." Chiaki moves from near Shigaraki to Dabi’s side, his eyes following her, a little glimmer of pride rose in his chest when she stood mere several inches from his side, her presence really is something, and damn sure didn't want her positive energy anywhere near Shigaraki of all people.

"You almost said think again, did you?" he bit his tongue and scratched at his neck. "Grr… Get the hell out." He points to the door.

Within seconds Dabi was back at the door and holding it open for her,. Shigaraki sat back down and spoke up, his high pitch voice catching her attention and annoying Dabi.

"Chiaki."

She turned to look at his head half turned, as he starts up again. "Ill need another player two sometime so don't be a stranger, bitch.” He let out a noise something close to a chuckle as Dabi closed the door back on him. Shutting the Leader away in the other room.

“You have a plan involving me, you say?” She bumps his arm and follows him down the hall, side by side, who tucked his hands again in his pockets, his eyes trained ahead and unblinking like hes analyzing his plan in front of him. “Mhmmmmm, but you have to keep it between you and me for now, got it.” He says beneath his breath, slowing down to keep pace with her, he notes how much smaller he is compared to her.

”Yessir! As long as i can actually do something ill be happy with it.” She chirps, almost excited, excited to be a part of something then just being a nurse. Dabi hums at her exuberance and pushes the door open for her, getting a good look at her back as she walks right in; her flannel fluttering behind her.

“Hm, don't get used to saying that, i might like it.” Dabi turns on the light and points her to the rolling desk chair where his computer was set up. “Step into my office, Witch, I have some questions for you.” She rolls her eyes at the mention of her hero name and plops down into the rolling chair of his desk, her legs cross in a very womanly fashion as he starts to pace infront of his bed. “Alright you have my attention what the hell do you need me for.” She asks moving the seat back and forth rotating her waist and facing forward to occupy her brain as she stared straight ahead at him.

"First." He stops and extends his pointer finger up, not meeting her eyes just yet, his voice still remaining flat and unreadable.

"I need abit more information about your, specialty here…” His eyes flicker over to her, his hands facing upward and looking to the calluses on his fingertips. “How in the hell have we not heard of this infiltration unit. Is it that covert that there's actual heroes in the agency dont know about it.” He questions facing her entirely, he leans against the desk, absentmindedly rubbing his fingers together as if they were covered in dust.. “As far as I know.. I'm the first one they indicted into the program. Again, due to my age and my quirk its kinda easy to give people a good idea about me but most of the time i dealt with kind of simple minded characters.” She states, her eyes looking at his hands, mildly distracted by how much larger he is in comparison to her.

Dabi openly flexes his hand allowing her to see the way the staples pull at his textured flayed flesh to his normal hand, hes much closer in fact she has to look almost fully up at him. His entire body silhouettes the white light behind his head, making him look more sinister to the untrained eye, his face however read genuine curiosity, not a sign of threat anywhere on his face.

“Mind telling me why you haven't turned tail and ran when you met them all.. Any sane person would have split the second they saw any of us.. No less Shigaraki.. you know what they have done, you saw the very day that we met what all of them can do… and you stayed and spoke to them on common ground… even fuckin introduced yourself.” He broadly gestures the same hand up into the air and lets it fall back down to his hip with a thump. She listened to him speak.. His voice soothed her in the strangest way imaginable, that and Dabi kind of liked to hear himself talk. “A pretty face mixing in with abunch of grimy villains.. Most of us driven by Stains ideology like some cultish fanclub gone awol..heh.. Hell you even got mixed up with the zombie man of all things.. Like a beauty and the beast type bullshit…” Dabi leans his head back and she watches his adam's apple bob in his throat as he clears it, his chin lolling back down to make eye contact with her, again making her feel small..

“I had thought it would take months for them to accept you as their own but… you fit in like a missing link, your gonna make this plan act quickly and i can feel it!" he grinned widely to the point where the staples on his mouth strained and it pulled at the flesh of his face.

“I do however would like to know: You are being real with me are you? I can trust you with everything I am about to ask of you..” She took a shallow breath and nodded, "O-of course! I haven't done anything to prove otherwise! I dropped all communication and everything with everyone i knew hell even my old friends from UA to be here.. And you already heard my whole thing with why I wanted to join." He pointed right at her and nodded his head, almost solemnly.

Dabi's eyes shut and he took a deep dramatic breath, "Y'see, this whole thing still makes me hesitant and i don't want to be hesitant with you.” He dragged her and the chair away from the desk and to the center of the room to draw her attention to him as he sauntered around her hypnotically. “Do you, my lil mouse have a single bad bone in your body..” He spins the chair with her in it as he circled her like a shark in blood infested water, she would sometimes look to his gnarled and scarred arm.

“Answer me.” She snapped his fingers in front of her face, she shuddered and her attention was once again drawn to sapphire blue eyes as she gulped her dry tongue. “Not as much as i would like to admit… no..” She looks down away from him, feeling like a fraud in the face of professionals. “That doesn't change how you see me right?” He halts fully and grabs her shoulder a large hand engulfing her hard musculature.. Her eyes floating back to his face as if magnetically. “Just a bit, not negatively of course, mouse, hell i wasn't born bad.”

His fingers gently entwined in her light locks, letting his fingers thread through her thick hair slowly each wave going through his fingers slowly as he noted the cold shiver when he allowed it to flutter back down to her shoulder.

“I need you to understand: when I send you on this mission you will come back to *me* with a motivation, a purpose, while it may not be like everyone else here, where most of us are natural born psychopaths and dregs of society, failures, monsters... You will be our little eye into the hero society, to throw a wrench in their plans in the worst way… our wildcard.” He promised her a week ago HE will bring out her potential.. Is this truly where it began? A moment of happenstance where her position as a former Pro can benefit her.. She barely registered the fact hes encircling her again.

“So.. what exactly is this idea..” She finally questioned him.

“Getting to that, mouse, getting to that...We have a person in the top 5 who is actually a part of us..A silent partner if you will, You might know him actually from working in your field.” He states bluntly, her eyes widened at the notion.. Top 5… who the hell.

Before she could even ask, she was cut off. “He has no idea you are even here, he has no idea you're even a blossoming little villain… for all he knows you're a scared little hero who went missing for a long time…He doesn't even come to the base if that says anything about him.. He needs to prove his worth before hes able to join us.. As the number 2 pro hero he needs to stay at arms length.. For our sake and the bases sake..”

Hawks.

“Winged hero.. Hawks?” She gawps and goes wide eyed. “The very same..” he sparks up a cigarette and places it betwixt his lips, he dragged her chair to the edge of the bed and sitting down as his knees framed her legs as he spreads his long legs out, he flicks her forehead, in a teasing fashion, making her pout cutely.

“We have our reasons as to WHY he can't come to the base.. Being number 2 hero publicly being that reason and we can't risk everything to bring bird brain here or our goose is cooked, so to speak.” He chuckles and takes a drag of the cigarette, blowing the cloud out of his nose like a dragon.

Dabi leans forward flicking ash on the floor, maintaining eye contact with her as he drops a bombshell on her.

“My plan is to return you to the Heroes.”

He says flatly and it makes her head jolt back, her eyes widening and her heart clamoring to her throat.

“Really?” her voice raises a pitch as she cocks a brow, a cute little nervous gleam in her yellow eyes made him almost lose it laughing. "Yup. I'm going to hand you off to Hawks in 2 days and make it look like you were kidnapped, fucked up that big brain of yours, and on the plus side your little friends will be very excited to see you again i'm sure… the big shots will be asking you questions.. Getting intel from you..”

She looks him over confused. “Isn't that bad though?” “No because you don't know where the hell you are… and.. You have been in the confines of these walls all this week.. Just answer them.. Just don't mention your wanting to become a villain.. Youll look crazy and they will stop questioning you..” He grins knowing exactly what could come from this.. His eyes hungry for the moment she realizes the heroes are nothing but scum of the Earth..

“Are you my mouse?” He tilts his head and raises his eyebrows feigning innocence. “I'm your girl…” He grins widely and takes her hand “Hmph, i knew you were.. Thats my lil mouse…”

The following day came and went, bringing about the evening and Dabi fleshing out his plan to Shigaraki who welcomed it but internally, he fucking loathed it now that hisnew found friend will be missing in action, however if its to get what they desired and to pinpoint locations on where the heroes reside, privately...It was underhanded. Conniving, and mostly her idea.. She knew where to go and how to get there.

After rejecting smokes for about an hour between the villains who sat around and listened to the new recruit eagerly mention how this was her specialty and she wont let any of them down, the mischievous gleam in her eye really captivated Dabi and drew him closer to her.

At some point early in the evening, hard alcohol was busted out and drank at the bar and Shigaraki was piss drunk passed out on his bed, his shoe stuck in the door frame and what looked like his shirt lain on the floor, the only one looking to be untouched from the obscene amount of booze being Compress and Kurogiri..and for the most part Dabi, whether it be high alcohol tolerance or being ‘designated villain wrangler’ they will never admit what it was.

Chiaki was buzzed.. More then buzzed, three sheets to the wind... Never touching alcohol or hard liquor in her life, it felt freeing, except for the fact the entire building was moving around like a ship at sea and she never got her sea legs.. Dabi on the other hand had a much higher alcohol tolerance then her, practically providing the young woman bottle after bottle of Fireball.

The first shot she described as the hottest thing she ever drank, only for Himiko to make some snide comment about something *Else that could be hot that she can drink*, then another about how sweet and warm her blood will run after some liquid courage in her veins, all while twirling her knife between her digits.

Dabi quickly shut her up with a glare and a menacing threat. Soon she killed the entire bottle with Dabi, leaving it forgotten on the bar as she stays clung to his hip, and for the most part his jacket. He didn't mind, he dragged her up the stairs and scooped her up bridal style when she tripped at the second stair, avoiding her googly eyes that lolled back and forth in her head, he kept her head against his chest with ease, his destination his bedroom, to keep her at ease and keep her under his control.

While walking to the bedroom he stepped over 3 passed out versions of Twice, one piled on top of the other and one folded down the staircase upside down; that being the actual Twice..Compress nodded to Dabi. “Still not fully knocked out?” He chuckled and dragged Spinner by the ankles into his room. “She was like me when I got plastered the first time… except she kept her clothes on… and didnt barbeque the bar.. Or fucked the barmaid.” Dabi jokes, making the pie-eyed young woman slur something that sounded like a laugh, it made him smile.

He pushed open the bedroom door only to see the little woman look up at him and giggle in a slur. “Heh.. heheheh! Dah-Dahhbiii..” She reaches up to his face and misses entirely, her arm plapping the side of his warm face, his eye blinks and he raises his brow comically . “May i help you, you shitfaced lil mouse.” He lowers her to the bed, her eyes blinking slowly and her eyes going drowsily going back and forth in the room.

"Why aintchu fucked up.. you drank almost wha I had" she inquires her voice fumbling to make it passed red raw lips. Hereyes trained on Dabis knees as he stood point blank infront of her, her googly eyes focused on the White belt under his white shirt.

"Self control, mouse.. and you kinda lost it after your second shot." She was shrouded in darkness for a split second before her head popped out of a black hoodie hole that smelled like burnt fabric, she moved her arms into the sleeves and noticed it wasn't like the one she came in.

She sniffed it and fell backward to the bed, as Dabi stepped away to disrobe his clothing in a room with an open door. "Mmm.. smells like you.." she murmurs, loud enough for him to hear and make his eyes widen, blood surged through his veins getting a wicked lil idea.. "oh it does?" He calls out leaving that room shirtless and now dressed in sweatpants only. "Y'smell like sulphur and-" she takes another whif staring up at the ceiling. Hugging this oversized hoodie to her, he dimmed the lights with a flick of the switch beside him. Leaving one other light on. "Pork? Like.. musk too" he laughed loudly at this causing her to jump. "Thats burnt flesh. Humans smell like pork when fire is strong enough to cook it." Her eyes narrowed at the statement. "Huh.." was all she could muster from her lips. "Dabi.. yknow how easy it is to make people feel good when your me.. super easy.. my quirk i guess is kinda like wiiiiiiildfire." She mocked his voice and flattened her legs out to the end of the bed; he paid mind to where he sat as he sunk down on the other side of the bed facing away from her as he turned on the tv for a movie.. some white noise wouldn't hurt. "Do ya care if i take this suit off." She mumbles as in her drunken state she fumbles to pry off the body suit from under the sweater. He paid no mind to her thinking she was just mumbling to herself.

Dabi chose a movie and flattened his hair back for a moment with his free hand, cracking his neck and rolling his shoulders from side to side. He saw the suit hit the arm of the couch and blunk just realizing what that was. Then another article followed it. Her bra.

Dabi amusedly chuckled and turned back to see the doe eyed drunken young woman sipping from a sake bottle she found in his room, sith her legs concealed beneath the blankets.

He tsked and took it from her hands "dammit.. had to find my stache did you, mouse.." he scolded her and capped it, a scowl when he found it only about 2 shot glasses worth missing from the bottle.

"whaat! I cant have more?" He turns his head to her half expecting her to have food in his bed and only meeting the sweet drunken face of the ex pro, hair all disheveled and some strands of hair in between her pretty pursed lips. This attraction and want was still fresh to him. He assumed it was part of her quirk that made him feel like this, all warm and fuzzy inside.. another weird feeling that made his stomach feel queasy, couldn't say he didnt like it though.

"Would much rather not have someone die from alcohol poisoning again in my bed *again*, please…" he tosses it between his hands and stows it under the bed again. "No more."

He states firmly when he brings his head up she's in the center of the mattress and looking at his skin "take a picture, mouse, it lasts longer." She shuffles closer to him and touches his back making him jolt, his brows furrow, absolutely not expecting not even her to touch him where he couldn't see, his very body getting warmer to the touch, at the very point she's touching.

Almost like in self defence. "D'sit hurt?" Her voice is blunt and almost not even close to a full sentence but he understands drunk speak clearly, he looks at the back of his hands "no. Some spots are more sensitive than others." His voice lowered, almost solemnly, old scars that have long healed on lean dense muscle.

She pulls her hand away when the heat becomes too much, he hears her squeak. "Don't touch open flames.. might get burnt lil mouse.. i get too much in me and I could lose control of my quirk." He laughs and moves back to be with her, as she shuffles back beneath the sheets.

"Don burn me like that puleaase" she pouts and flops into the pillows. "Pfff. Wouldnt imagine wanting to unless you have a thing for that." He winks down at her and pushes bright blonde locks from her face and pulls some strands from her lips.

A wet pink muscle darting out to wet her alcohol dried lips, he watched almost transfixed on the pretty woman in his bed. "Your eyes are prrretty" she draws out the word pretty and a blush creeps across her face, dreamy eyed staring at him. Dabi rolls his eyes and throws an old shirt at the light switch to turn off the light, shrouding them both in semi darkness. "Shuttup." He grumbles, keeping the distance between them reasonable.

"M'serious, when we first met i thought you were really my type, very sweet and charmin’." He humors her and props his head up on his hand, looking into her pretty yellow eyes, only visible by the light from the tv.

"Tsk..Stop butterin me up.. Makin me feel like less of a villain and more of a softy.” He scowls and the light from the tv illuminates her once again, she pulls the blanket further up her body making the sweatshirt hike up her thighs abit out of Dabis sight. “Y’kinda were though hehehhe!” She giggled, Dabi humored her to hopefully shut her up. “Its the rugged handsome look or is it the monster look?" She looks away from his face for a moment. "Would you believe its bofadem." He scowls and his eyes narrow again, a growl in his throat, not satisfied with the answer, he doesn't know if he likes an honest drunk all that much..but her flirty behavior was not going to be left alone not by a longshot. "I's an added bonus too. Also your not too bad lookin shirtless." she reaches out to touch his flesh where his collar bone is burnt, with a breath and an irritated growl he snatches her hand, all her attention then turning to his massive hand that caught her small one.

She looks abit hurt when he rejects her advances to touch him, but calms down thinking she's going too fast.

He sighed and allowed her to look his hand over, unbothered by the fact she's several inches away from him, he analyzed her eyes for any discretion that she could be bullshitting him about his looks.

It's why hes the most antsy and guarded.

She turned his hand over and dragged her fingertips and nails slowly down the lean forearm, his eyes twitch and his hand splayed open at her touch, graceful fingers moving independently in a dance for her eyes only; all the while, surrendering control of his arm unto her to see what she will do. "Y'know..I cant heal.. ol scars.. can only heal fresh ones.. wish i could help ya out with these..." Her voice is tepid and gentle, only for his ears to hear, it wasnt feigning innocence, it was innocent. "I know what you can do mouse-" He makes an attempt to sooth her. “Im multitalented..i only use my talents on the people i like.. And i like you alot..”

Chiaki slides her hand up to press their palms together. A giant hand dwarfing her own by how simply long his fingers were. Callused and hot like the rest of him, he controlled himself enough to not produce too much heat where she will pull away. He truly didn't want that..

He can feel her pulse hammering in her fingers as he gently curled his fingers bending hers backward slightly and looking back down to her. God the way she looked at him drove his mind in circles, not like a monster, a killer or anything negative.. But someone she adored..

Eyes glazed over in bewilderment. "Hmm.." she hums sweetly, like honey upon his ears.. "what?" He asks "yer hands are be yoo tiful.." he puffs hot air out of his nose. "I feel like your perceptions of beauty are skewed from your binge, mouse…" he teases and she laces their fingers together in a sweet gesture that stuns the Villain in his place, her lips found the juncture of the knuckles of his hands and kissed them lazily, the intimacy and sweetness of the moment lost on him.. He slept with plenty of women, used them and kicked them to the curb.. This one was different.. It sparked something in him..and didn't go out. Like a trick candle on a cake.

"Hey, hey.. don't start something mouse.. not in the state you're in.." he grumbles and stares down at her, not making any attempt to stop her.

"Why cantchu let me dote on you.." she pouts keeping the back of his hand to her face. His face grew closer to hers the smell of straight alcohol still lived rent free on her breath, "i want you to be conscious to what you and i do… hear me? Its below me to take advantage of you in a state where you can't remember and run.." his voice is grave and serious, it almost makes her frightened if not for the fact hes holding her hand so tightly.

She nods and shifts her body weight closer to him, he hears her yawn, she releases his hand after another kiss to the scarred flesh. He clears his throat and brings himself over her with just his torso and looks down at her, the covers only covering his back, but from here she can see the extent of the scarification to his neck and chest and just how extensive it was.

“See. don't look comfortable when you're in that position.. you dont want to be shit faced and being taken advantage of..” She shakes her head and opens her glassy eyes. “Not r'lly...” He nods and lays back down beside her, "thought so.." he pokes her cheek and pries his eyes from her.

“Sleep. We're going tomorrow.” He yawns and before he could say another word or even look her in the eye, she was asleep. 100 percent zonked out and asleep. He sighed and smirked warmly, he moved to the center of the bed beside her and touched her leg with the pads of his finger tips.. They gently dragged across the smooth flesh of the outside of her thigh to her knee, he became more brave and repeated the motion with his whole hand, slower.. gently digging his fingers into the meat of her leg for a moment. "What the hell did you do to me, Chiaki.." he mumbles, his hand taking in her warmth and radioactive positivity from her quirk ripple into his hand like electricity.

“Fuck..” He cursed and leaned forward to press a gentle smooch to her forehead..pulling her body close to his, falling asleep with her in his arms.

The morning came and with that.. so did Chiaki's unbelievable hangover, Dabi heard the girl shuffle to the small bathroom he had, he could tell she was crawling, unable to even stand and threw up violently the door to the toilet cracked as she emptied the contents of her stomach. With that he knew his day had just begun as he swung his legs out of bed and stood up, following the sounds of an esophageal exorcism taking place, and laughing at her expense. "Too much booze, hon?" He asked as he held her hair up, collecting pretty long locks in his fists as she got sick, it was almost too sweet for him to do this. He loomed above her.

"Yup… fuck that sucked.. head hurts.." he chuckled and helped her to her feet. “Don't remember a damn thing of what happened last night do ya.” He raised a brow and turned on the sink letting her wash her face off abit. Cold water replenishing the color to her cheeks. “Not a damn thing...wanna remind me please?” She asked gargling water from a bottle he handed her and spitting some out in the sink to clear her breath abit. “Well if you havent noticed you kinda took off your pants and uh.. Your bra is on my couch.” He tugged the sweat shirt that almost showed off her perky asscheeks to him.

Her hands darting to the end of the sweat shirt and her eyes going wide. “Did we-” She asks red in the face, her eyes darting to him in the mirror. “Nooo.. I said it last night, its below me to take advantage of someone like you.” She sighed and nodded her head turning back to him. “Thanks…” Dabi rolls his eyes and turns on his heels quickly.

"No gettin soft on me today, alright mouse? Cmon get dressed. We got things to do today.." he ordered, his tone changing quickly.

The rain was pouring. Just as hard as she met Dabi, thunder roared over head as he summarized the plan over with her, provided her with an implant in her ear to record everything, down to the whereabouts and specific names and places.. Fool proof was an understatement, with her status it was the perfect storm.

“How long will I be gone from you all..” She asked as he bound her wrists to her back tightly, making sure to make it look uncomfortable, as much as it pained him to see her wince in pain. “As long as we get the information we need.. And we'll come get you, mouse, why.. Sounding a bit nervous.” He asks leaning over her shoulder, guiding her into a cellar and securing a blindfold over her eyes, allowing Dabi to guide her wherever the hell he needs her to go.

“Kinda. I know this is precautionary but is this necessary?” She asked, hearing a loud wrought iron gate opening and then followed by a vault door, entering a sewer system with water running down the center of the drainage system.

“If they break you and get where we're at, there's no coming back, mouse. I should be asking you how the heroes interrogate their capture shouldn't i..” He jokes and holds her arms making sure shes walking forward, every so often his hand touches her back, keeping her warm using his quirk effectively in the cold, she moved closer to his side and found his arm hooked over her shoulder, his face still emotionless.

After about what felt like 15 minutes of silent walking they found themselves at a busted out hole in the wall, big enough for bodys to worm their way through.

“Easy does it..” he mutters, pushing her through the hole to the outside world.

The only thing indicating to her it's the outside world is the telltale sound of wind whipping around followed by fresh rain on her face. “Cmere, we're here..” SHe followed the sound of his voice and allowed him to guide her into a building. The creaks and moans of the old establishment made her wary and nervous, He stopped her directly inside of an old gas tank, hollowed out from neglect and time passed. “Can I take this off now.” She whispered so her voice wouldn't carry. “Hmhm.. of course.” he undid her blindfold and was greeted with his face again. “Happy to see me?” She shrugged. “Perhaps.. When is he coming..” She asked as he looked to the old burner phone he kept on hand. “10 minutes.. I always show up early, hes more than punctual.. It's borderline annoying.``

He states stuffing his hands in his pockets. “Well when you're called the fastest hero you kinda have to live up to those expectations.” He rolls his eyes and waits patiently.

“Gonna miss me?” He scoffs and replies deadpan at first. “Like the flu, nah im joking.. I will. Your company changed the group significantly. Quirk or not your...different.” He winks at her, she shuffles to him to rest her head on his chest, making it a mock hug, he puts his palm on her head and ruffles her pretty dark brown tresses up top.. “Heh.. god your always affectionate huh.. First you get me to appreciate you then you get Twice, Compress, Fuck even Spinner.. Shigaraki was a bit of a shock to the system.. Thus why we got all fucked up that night.”

He laughed enough to where she saw the staples separate from his mouth for a moment. “Anyway.. In a couple of days… I'll give you your burner back.. And we can chat if ya miss me that much..heh, might even go ‘shopping’ like i promised ya, getcha somethin nice to wear when you get back.” He half pulls the burner phone she used earlier a week ago from his pocket.

There's a gust of wind and feet tamping on the metal beams above their heads. Dabi raises his finger to his lips and leaves the confines of the empty tankard and looks right up at the hero.. The two exchanging a look before hawks can swoop on down, the longest feather in hand and eyes narrowed.

“Took ya long enough.” Dabi spoke up his hands leaving his pockets. “It's been hell the past week and a half, I don't want to hear it.. You have been avoiding my calls and everything. What gives.” Hawks questions annoyance and exhaustion plaguing his speech. “I don't have a clue what this problem would be, but in regards to your calls, let's just say we've been busy.. Couldn't really speak amicably with the rest of the League up my ass.” He chuckled much to the hero's chagrin, the tired look on his face said it all.

It was perfect. “If you must know.. Since that one little dust up in the business district with that Nomu and you.. We haven't seen Witch..” Dabi rocks back on his heels upon the mention of the ex-pro.

“Ah… Witch.. That pretty lil piece of work.” He chuckled sinisterly, as the feather rose to his neck,an intense scowl splashed across the pros face, Dabi outturned his hand, threateningly. “Ah ah, Hostile already?” Hawks eyes narrowed, like he was at his wits end with people as of late. “Shes been gone since then.. My allegiance with you and the league still stands but the fact shes gone without a fuckin trace since she last saw you makes no sense, where the hell does a PRO go without a trace and all signs lead back to.” Dabi interjected, raising his brow and tilting his head back psychotically. “Back to us huh? Awfully presumptuous of you heroes..”

Dabi let his head drop forward and he raised his brow and cocked his head, confused on why the normally level headed hero would be so high strung. He ‘poked the bear’ and asked. “You mentored her, I assume? Were you two love birds.” Hawks scowled. “No. she was my partner for a bit if you must know so the workload wasnt as hectic as it has been lately. But now with crime rate so high the damn commission wont get off MY ass.”

Dabi boredly pushes the feather blade away. “Tsk.. seems were in the same boat… but in regards to your lady friend i may know something” He turned on his heel and grabbed her from the tank, exchanging one last look between them before Dabi turned her out to see Hawks. The pro took a step back and his face went white, like he saw a ghost.

He went wide eyed, . “Holy shit, kid.”

~~~~~~

Authors note: Ive decided unanimously im making a fucking series and im gonna have fun with it. Enjoy Chiaki shes my gal uwu

#dabi #league of villains #dabi x oc #shigaraki x oc #toga x oc #twice #spinner #mha fic #im fucking VIBING #it was supposed to be a fucking drabble #but i decided to make it a series k.

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mavericksy · 3 years

Text

Seeing Red

TW: Detailed descriptions of menstruation, gender dysphoria

Summary: Tsuburaba gets his period, and Class 1B try to make him feel better, with varying degrees of success.

AO3 link (text is also below): https://archiveofourown.org/works/28285605

A/N: Sweet comfort fic- I got my period a a few days ago and it was really bothering me this morning. also, there is a major lack of trans tsuburaba content. how could you do this to dysphoria hoodie boy.

SEEING RED

Vlad King shouldered into the locker room and clapped his hands.

“Alright, boys, time to get to the gym!”

At once, the gathered male students looked up and nodded, their conversations dropping to a hush as they hurried to fix their costumes.

He held the door open for them, counting each student as they went into the corridor. As Honenuki left the room, Vlad spotted Monoma loitering at the back, wearing a concerned expression.

“Is everything alright, son?” he asked. Monoma looked behind himself.

“It’s Tsuburaba, sir.”

“Oh?” Thinking on it, Vlad hadn’t spotted the short boy among the rest of the group. “Did he come in today?”

Monoma nodded. “Yes, sir. He’s in the bathroom. He’s having a few…issues.”

“Oh. Should I get the Imodium?”

“It’s not that! Sir, it’s that time of the month.” Vlad continued to frown at him. Monoma sighed. “He’s on his period.”

“He is?”

“I think he got it while he was getting changed in the back- it caught him by surprise. He’s upset.”

“I can imagine. Poor kid. Sometimes I forget he’s…you know.”

“Sir, permission to go to the girl’s locker room. He says he needs a sanitary towel.”

“Permission granted, son.” Monoma nodded and prepared to leave the room. “No funny business when you get there, mind!”

The boy rolled as his eyes as he left. Steeling himself for an awkward discussion, Vlad tip-toed towards the bathroom at the back of the changing room. It was a small, tiled annex, with two closed stalls, two urinals, and a pair of porcelain sinks. A passage to the right led towards the showers. Underneath the gap of one of the toilet cubicles, he spotted shadows moving on the floor. Muffled noises were coming from inside.

He coughed and knocked on the wall next to him. “Tsuburaba? You in here, son?”

The muffled noise suddenly stopped. A moment later, a croaky voice replied, “Yeah.”

“Monoma tells me you’re in a bit of an awkward situation.”

Tsuburaba laughed ruefully, a single sardonic bark that rattled around the walls.

“Do you want to come out and talk about it?”

“I can’t really move right now, sir.”

Drat. There went Vlad King’s patented ‘give them a comforting yet manly hug’ maneuver. Now he’d actually have to make conversation.

“Is everything OK?”

From inside the dim stall, Tsuburaba looked in the direction of Vlad King’s deep voice. His hands were full of wadded-up toilet paper, which he had been using to try and pat his crotch and briefs dry.

“Could be better, sir,” he admitted, squinting at the rust-colored marks across the tissue after he had scuffed it across his bloody underwear. He sighed and threw it between his legs, into the toilet.

“Are you having...cramps or anything?”

“Not right now, no. I’ll probably end up getting them later tonight, though.” He unrolled another strip of tissue. “Sometimes they make it hard to sleep.”

“You got enough painkillers back in the dorms?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Good. Midnight’s on call tonight, if you need her. Do you want me to tell her what’s going on?”

“No, I…” Tsuburaba squeezed his eyes shut and pinched his forehead with his free hand, trying to control his voice as a lump began to rise in his throat. Vlad King’s voice kept coming, over and over, giving him no time to settle. “I’d rather keep this private, sir. If you don’t mind.”

“I get you. Are you going to be OK in class today?”

“I’ll be fine, sir, just so long as I’m not bleeding into my pants all morning!” Tsuburaba snapped. There was silence from outside. He exhaled shakily and placed his head in his hands, feeling another string of blood ooze out of him. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be, son. You’re going through a lot right now.”

“It’s such a weird feeling,” Tsuburaba said quietly, shivering as he crossed his arms. “I can feel the blood on my skin as it’s coming out, but…it’s like there’s not enough skin, you know? I can feel that something else is supposed to be there, but…it’s not. It’s just flat.” He swallowed. “Sorry, again. That’s TMI.”

“It…” Vlad King didn’t disagree, but Tsuburaba could tell from his careful, measured tone of voice that he was sympathetic. “It’s good to talk about this kind of thing, sometimes- to have a level of awareness about your body. Did I ever tell you about the time I got infected by a parasite?”

Tsuburaba’s eyes widened. He shook his head, then remembered that Vlad couldn’t see him.

“No, sir.”

“Well, there’s not much to tell,” Vlad King laughed. “I was out in the field, fighting off a group of your standard hoodlums. One of them went in for a close-combat attack from behind, and managed to hit my back. I swung him away from me and finished the fight without making too much of it. Then, over the next few days, I had this awful aching sensation in my right shoulder, like I’d thrown it while training.”

“I’ve had that kind of thing all week,” said Tsuburaba, feeling an ache prickle down his own back. “Should have known it was coming from that. Anyway, you were saying?”

“The pain lasted for weeks. I thought I was going nuts- I was tired, I was cranky, but I couldn’t work out what was wrong for the life of me. It wasn’t until I rolled over in bed one night and my wife noticed this golf ball sized protrusion sticking out of my back. We got to an emergency doctor, and she put me under for surgery that same evening- a few hours later, I wake up in her office, and there’s this giant insect squirming around a glass jar next to her computer.”

Tsuburaba choked back a gasp. Always prone to feeling pain as other people described it, he clutched his shoulder, wincing in sympathy.

“That’s crazy, sir!”

“Uh-huh. Turns out it had been part of a plan to put me out of commission- to change up the patrol routes so the gang could launch an attack without me being there. Oh- here’s Monoma.”

“I got a sanitary towel from Kendou,” Monoma’s voice said. Plastic packaging crinkled.

“You’re a lifesaver, bro,” said Tsuburaba, inching towards the door. He looked down at himself and sighed. “Can you push it under the door?”

He saw Monoma’s feet approaching.

“Is everything OK, now, Tsuburaba?” Vlad King asked.

“Yeah, everything should be fine now, thanks,” said Tsuburaba, grabbing the square piece of packaging from Monoma’s hand. “I’ll join everyone in a minute.”

“I’ll see you in the gym, then.”

“Cool. Oh, and sorry for snapping.”

There was a pause. Tsuburaba assumed that Vlad King and Monoma were eyeing each other.

“Don’t worry about it, son,” Vlad said reassuringly. His footsteps began retreating. “I’ll see you boys soon.”

“Do you want me to leave, Tsuba?” asked Monoma. He mulled it over.

“That’s OK,” he said. “Just give me a minute.”

With an apology to his friend, Monoma occupied himself at the urinals while he waited. From inside the stall, there was a tearing noise, followed by a high-pitched rustle. As Monoma went to wash his hands, the stall door clanked open, and Tsuburaba joined him at the sinks. He noticed how he stood with his legs a little apart, trying to rock his hips into a more comfortable position.

“Better?”

“Much better.”

They dried their hands and returned to the changing room. Tsuburaba stopped him before he left.

“Thank you so much for everything you’ve done today,” he said.

“It’s not a problem- it’s basic decency, really. Besides, Kendou’s the one you should be thanking.”

“I know, but…you didn’t have to do all this for me, you know?” He looked down at his feet. “I’ve got one more favour to ask, by the way. If you don’t mind.”

“Name it.”

“Could you tell me if I get a stain on my pants? Please? They’re pretty thick material, but the colour is light, so…”

“Are you asking if I’ll look at your butt for the rest of the lesson? That’s more than fine by me.” Monoma laughed as Tsuburaba scowled, though he could tell he was biting back a smile. The shorter guy swiped at him.

“Shuddup, will you?”

“I’m sorry!” They both laughed as they emerged into the hallway.

“But seriously, thanks.”

“No problem.”

Class went normally, for the most part. There was definitely a vague knowledge among the group that something was wrong with Tsuburaba, but he couldn’t complain too much about the various sympathetic glances that were being sent in his direction.

Tetsutetsu leaned forward and shook his shoulder.

“You’re the man, bro,” he whispered.

“Heh, thanks,” Tsuburaba said awkwardly, trying to disappear into the back corner of the benches. Tetsutetsu flinched as Kendou shoved him roughly.

“Would you leave him alone?” she hissed.

“I was only trying to-”

“It’s OK!” he said quickly. “Thanks, both of you. I appreciate it.”

Kendou turned to him and nodded, retreating from Tetsutetsu, who gave him a grateful thumbs-up.

The number of students on the benches dwindled as Vlad King organised them into groups, with only ten students on the court at any one time. Finding that he and Kendou were alone together- save for a few other students scattered a little further away- he slid next to her.

“Monoma says you helped me out today,” he said.

“Did he? Oh, with the…”

“Yeah. I just wanted to say thanks.”

“It’s no big deal, really! I’m just glad that we could get everything in order.”

“You and me both.”

“How do you feel now?”

“Swampy.”

With a glance in the other students’ direction, Kendou leaned in. Tsuburaba blushed as she came close, her ponytail brushing his shoulder.

“I got mine too, yesterday evening. I’ve stocked up on chocolate and sad movies if you wanted to hang out later.”

Tsuburaba shook his head. “I can’t do sad things when I’m like this. I’d be a mess. But thanks for the offer.”

“Any time.”

There was a chorus of groans as Kaibara hit the floor, a dodgeball bouncing away from him. On the opposite side of the court, Yanagi stood proudly to one side with her arms half-raised, her teammates screaming praise at her.

As Kaibara had been the last man standing on his team, Vlad King blew his whistle to signal the end of the match.

“Next team, Team B vs Team D!”

Tsuburaba took a moment to check his trousers before standing. He turned to Kendou.

“You’re clean,” she said, before he had even fully opened his mouth. “Good luck!”

He smiled and gave her a thumbs up, heading towards the court. Also up from the benches, Kuroiro joined him as they strode to their side of the court.

“I am so glad we have you,” he said to Tsuburaba. “You’re one of the best players.”

“Tsuburaba vs Yanagi and Monoma,” added Awase, who was making his way to the back of the room, ready to use his quirk to fuse as many accumulated dodgeballs as he could. “It’s a clash of the titans.

The shorter boy offered a quick smile to them both, before focussing his gaze on the opposing team. He began to breathe in deeply, preparing to unleash a slew of defensive walls.

Monoma caught his eye and grinned. He was stood in between Yanagi and Honenuki, which probably meant that Tsuburaba could expect strikes that came from nowhere, and for the ground to suddenly disappear beneath him- if Honenuki went out.

“Are you OK?” Monoma mouthed at him.

“I’m fine,” he mouthed back, watching Monoma’s concern fade and be replaced with a self-assured expression.

Tsuburaba grinned wickedly and fixed his eyes on the line of balls in front of him. He could use his quirk to shunt the balls at Team B before they had time to react, or wait for one of them to lurch forwards, only to slam into an invisible wall of air.

Monoma didn’t know just how closely he was going to have to watch his ass.

Disclaimer (?):

while periods suck, please remember that they are natural and you shouldn't be made to feel ashamed of them!

taking male hormones is *not* a 'cure' for menstruation. i've been on t for two years and had my period come back after a year of not having it, hence why i'm sad and wanted to write a comfort fic.

please don't feel like you need to medically transition just because you don't like having a period- there's a risk of you developing real gender dysphoria due to other side effects, and needing to detransition later. i'm saying this because there's not a lot of menstruation-themed content out there, and i don't want people to equate 'periods are annoying' with 'i must be transgender'. please speak to your doctor if you're worried about your cycle or any unusual symptoms.

with that said, godspeed to anybody dealing with their time of the month right now! i hope you have all the chocolate you need!

#bnha #mha #bnha fanfic #mha fanfic #class 1b #kosei tsuburaba #trans kosei tsuburaba #tw menstruation #tw menstrual cycle #tw gender dysphoria #tw periods

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shadow-scenarios · 4 years

Note

hey! my bro and I are in a run & I got hit with this idea! So whaT if while Aketchi was playing good against his better judgment he started falling for kind/sweet!reader, & they seem the most hurt by his outburst/transformation - & when they reach out for him like a hug or something he hurts them really bad and snaps out of it to cry over her and confesses all sad & she’s not dead but weakly tells him that he doesn’t need shido cause he’s precious or whatever to her?

Hello Anon!! I had to read this about four times to get the gist of what you were saying but I think I understood. Akechi angst is good for the soul, I swear!

Trigger Warning: Blood ;; Injuries ;; Violence ;; Swearing

- Nexus.

Blooming Villain | Goro Akechi

Kindness was a foreign concept to Goro Akechi. He held his true personality away from the masses under the mantra of ‘ the world cannot be hate you if the world does not know you ’. Suppressing his inner rage & turmoil led to him manifesting a second Persona with the God given gift to make a heart psychotic.

With this, he plunged the world into chaos. They would finally understand the circumstances he was forced into. How sick people made him with their petulant bullshit. How much he despised Masiyoshi Shido. Akechi was the puppeteer, everyone else the puppets.

Until the Phantom Thieves began to make a display. Harpering on about bringing criminals to justice & how evildoers would be punished. Once he ascertained their identities, they would be torn to shreds, crippled by their own mistakes. That criminal trash Akira Kurusu & his band of motley do-gooders were nothing to fret about. It was simple: Laying the blame on them. He dismantled their foundations at the roots by killing off the leader, leaving the rest to scatter in fear of their lives.

Call it detective’s intuition but something was off as he began to piece the puzzle together: It was the bug planted on his phone that finally tipped him off. Everyone had known from the beginning, even if they acted so nonchalantly towards him. If they had listened in on his phone conversations, then they knew about Shido and the manifestation of his distorted desires.

So he waited. Waited for the Phantom Thieves.

The confrontation came on the afternoon of December 15th. It was a grey morning, rimed with frost & dark clouds on the horizon. Entering the Metaverse in his detective prince outfit was jarring but he paid no mind. Akechi watched as they solved the puzzles, obtaining the Letters of Recommendation until they reached the final room.

Engaging them with the princely facade & the psychotic shadows, he was quickly defeated. As to be expected. They began to spout their trash about teaming up, working together, overturning fate by working together. The same petulant bullshit everyone had given him.

Screaming at them to shut up, his transformation began. Akechi had to be stronger than them. No, he was. Loki began to manifest & they all watched in varied states of horror as his true mask began to unveil itself.

Individually, they were easily crushed. Much like ants. However, it was a colony of ants that worked together. Bringing each other back up when one was knocked down. He had almost managed to kill Joker, until one of his pathetic teammates threw themselves in the way. Despite the power he carried as a Wild Card, he was eventually defeated.

Frustrated would never be able to convey anything Akechi was feeling as the last of his energy sapped away. Losing was never a possibility in his mind & the Desperation began to set in. Slaughtering them all would be what he achieved, no matter the cost to his body.

Still, he had lost. All of his ambitions began to crumble around him & he could feel his pulse counting down the seconds he had left to live. They were going to end it all here as his vision began to blur-

A figure stepped out of formation & began to approach. They were decked out in the same fancy garb as all the other Phantom Thieves but there was boldness to the way they moved.

After everything he had put into motion, all of the harm he had caused, she still reached for his hand as he knelt on the ground, his mask shattered. Pieces realigned in his memory. Akechi remembered her as she spoke:

“ Akechi, don’t you want to come with us? ”

It was her. The person he cared about in some sort of twisted sense.

The day they met was supposed to be average. Kosei High was an institution for the privileged, which was what made Akechi despise it so. Plastic smiles & easily hidden facades, no one ever had good intentions when they approached.

He had made a foolish error, losing some of the paperwork he needed for the latest case. It would not have him lose his job as it did not contain any confidential information but it would be tiresome to rewrite. As to not arouse suspicion, he carefully picked his way through the classroom, his body language rigorously casual.

Someone tapped him on the back & he whipped around.

“ You’re Akechi, right? Well, I found some of your detective stuff underneath the desk you sit at & you seemed kinda lost so I thought I’d return it, ” was all she said as a small stack of papers were offered to him. It was exactly what he was looking for.

Taking them into his arm to ensure nothing had been taken from him, he gave her a once-over. Donning the Kosei High uniform as any student would, she seemed mostly composed. Usually, the fangirls were the most distracting part of his career with all the harassment & questions that were slightly too inappropriate to answer but she seemed less bothered about who he was, instead ensuring that he obtained what had been previously lost.

“Ah, thank you. I had been looking for these. It wouldn’t look very good for a detective to lose their work, ” he replied, playing his role.

“ No worries about it, we all lose things sometimes! Anyway, I have to go now, lunch is starting soon. See you around. ” As quickly as the conversation began, it had ended & Akechi was genuinely baffled.

There was one thing he had gleaned from that interaction: Her smile was genuine. She had wanted to help him, in return for nothing.

Second meetings were uncommon but somehow it was possible.

One of the most common places for Akechi to eat lunch was the school rooftop. It was quiet during the winter & the sound of wind rushing through his ears was serene compared to anything the school had to offer. There was something softly screeching open & as he turned to face whoever it was, there was recognition from both of them.

“ Ah. Akechi. I’m really sorry if I’m interrupting something, I like to come up here whenever there’s too much noise, ” she clarified, making no move closer nor further.

“ You’re no trouble at all. I’m merely taking a break as well. ”

So she sat. They talked. It was never about anything important but it was therapeutic not having to regurgitate promises about the Phantom Thieves & serving justice. Eventually it became a somewhat regular routine, as whenever he attended school she was there waiting. This went on for a few months with them exchanging contact information to keep in touch, even when not in school.

Being in denial was not going to help him approach the situation. He liked her. She was counted among one of his very few friends & yet he longed. Ached. Every time she said something, he felt like a fool. Only through years of practise did he barely stutter. It felt both exhilarating & disgusting at the time. No matter. Puppy crushes were easy to smother out.

When he found out she was a Phantom Thief, he felt betrayed. Was he just a source of information to her?

Yet even in the Metaverse when Akechi was essentially blackmailing them, she was still as sweet as ever. Akira insisted on having the two of them in the front lines for almost the entirety of Sae’s Palace & although keeping pace was relatively easy { he had been through entire Palaces on his own }, she always made sure to check up on him whenever possible.

In the Safe Rooms when the Phantom Thieves were to take a break, she insisted on patching up his wounds & try as he might there was no refusing. Her touch was gentle, unlike anything else he had experienced. Even if she casted a healing spell such as Diaharan, there was something all too soothing about the way it helped. It made him want to throw up.

Irrationally, all of his mangled thoughts correlated together: She had betrayed him; She was the one who decided to side with the Phantom Thieves; She would be in the front lines of the battle. He never needed her petulant bullshit.

“ Shut up! I don’t need pity, especially from the likes of you. You’re the one who pretended to care, only to go behind my back & side with them. ”

Something about the way his sword slashed all the way across her body was far too easy. The fabric from her Phantom Thief outfit tore like paper & it was clear the protector underneath did not suffice, as she screamed in agony.

Akechi did not care. He never cared to begin with.

Then why did he catch her?

Watching her blood permeate his costume was worse than any physical pain he had ever experienced. The Phantom Thieves were staring and he almost collapsed from the raw shock. It was obvious she was trying to speak but all she could do was cough up blood.

Working quickly in a panicked haze, Akechi simply put pressure onto her wound. He did not know any healing skills, though he really wished he did right now. Curses mumbled out as a fresh emotion covered his rage, his contempt for those around him: Sorrow.

Someone touched his face & he whipped his head down.

“ I- I know you’re angry,” she uttered through gritted teeth, “ but you don’t have to be. You’re precious. Shido doesn’t need you, Goro. ”

Crying was a foreign concept to Goro Akechi.

Word Count: 1.5k

Publish Date: 01.10.20

#{ crow }#{ I kinda struggle to write Akechi content since Dance with Justice }#{ I just feel like he’s not in character?? }#persona 5 royal x reader #persona 5 x reader #persona 5 imagines #p5r #persona #goro akechi x reader #goro akechi #{ someone tell me if I’m writing him okay }#{ akechi: ok so I like her }#{ also akechi: haha jagged sword go brr }#tw: injury #tw: blood #tw: swearing

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girls-scenarios · 4 years

Text

Would You?

Idol: Mina (gugudan, formerly ioi)

Prompt: Hiii can I get college AU of reader x Gugudan Mina where reader is trying their best to take care of a very drunk Mina in a party. Mina keeps asking nonsensical question but as she’s taken home, she blurts out ‘would you like me back if i confessed that I Iiked you?’ The ending is up to you, tyyyy!

Writer: Admin Kiwi

A/N: I miss gugudan so much that it’s not even funny. I’ve kind of lost hope for a comeback now... Anyway, I hope you all enjoy this scenario!

♡ Tip Jar♡

You had never seen Mina so drunk. Sure, you’d been to parties with her before and the two of you had gotten drunk together plenty of times. She loved to party and have fun, and you loved to have fun with her. But she’d never gotten like... this.

She was giggling and holding your arm in an iron grasp, her eyes hazy as she rubbed her face against your shoulder. “There’s four banana’s,” she said through giggles, pointing at the bowl on the kitchen counter that did, in fact, have bananas in it. There were only two, though.

“And that’s funny?” You were nowhere near drunk enough to understand why the bananas had sent her into yet another fit of giggles. In fact, when you’d walked into the kitchen to find her giggling, slumped against the counter with a cup in her hand, tilted near spilling, you had promptly put down your drink out of worry for her wellbeing. You had no idea when she’d separated from Sejeong, who was currently belting out a song in the living room, but the last time you’d seen her, she hadn’t been anywhere near this drunk. What was she drinking?

She let out a string of noises that sounded vaguely like words before bursting into giggles again and you swallowed, your arm beginning to tingle and your face flushing as she shuffled even closer. Dealing with a drunk friend was hard enough, but dealing with a drunk friend who you had a crush on? You weren’t sure you were going to make it through the night.

“Why don’t we drink some water?” You suggested, steering her back to the fridge. Thankfully, Hana had stocked up on bottled water, and you pulled one out, opening it and handing it to Mina. She stared at it for a moment before coming back to and taking a sip.

“It’s not alcohol,” she said sadly, staring down at the bottle like it had offended her. With a nervous laugh, you encouraged her to take another sip.

“It’s not. It’ll help you feel better though, so think some more.”

“‘Mmm I don’t wanna.” She finally let go of your arm, only to hug you after putting the bottle on the counter. Your heart picked up and you wished you could push her away, but you knew that would likely result in making her cry and you didn’t want that.

“Um, how about we go back to the living room? They’re playing karaoke. You like karaoke.”

At this, her face lit up. “I do! Will you sing with me?” She slurred, looking up at you with her eyes wide and a pout on her lips. God, she was so cute. Even if she was drunk.

“S-sure. Let’s go.” Awkwardly, you detatched yourself from her grip and took her hand instead, which placated her, and she followed happily behind you.

It was now Haebin’s turn to sing, and as she dramatically performed her own song from a musical she’d been in, Sejeong and Hana were pretending to do the high notes behind her. You found a seat open beside Sally, who gave you a sweet little smile as you guided Mina to sit beside her.

“I forgot you were here!” Oh god, she was drunk too. Sober Sally was sweet and quiet. Drunk Mimi was spacey and spoke her mind. You just laughed, feeling way too sober for this.

“Oh, that-.”

“You can’t forget about (Y/N)!” Mina jumped to your defense. Or, really, just turned in her spot to frown at Sally. “They’re so important!”

“Thanks, but it’s okay,” you said, hoping to calm her down with a pat on the shoulder.

“It’s not. I didn’t forget about you. I can’t forget about you.” She pouted and your heart skipped a beat before you could remind yourself that she was drunk and probably didn’t mean anything that she was saying. She grabbed your hand again and pulled you down onto the arm of the couch beside her, and you couldn’t find it in yourself to push her away when she put her head on your lap.

Soon, Haebin was done with her song and Nayoung and Soyee jumped up to sing a trot song and Mina hummed along, not bothering to sit up as she moved her arms and cheered. Halfway through the song, she looked up at you with wide eyes.

“Do you think a microphone could hurt someone?”

You blinked. “What? Like, if you hit someone with it?”

“No, do you think the electricity could, like, hurt someone?”

You had no idea what she was talking about, so you just laughed. “I don’t think so. Not the Bluetooth one.”

“Oh.” She stared up at you for a moment, making you shift under her intense gaze. “Do you think dogs can talk?”

“I don’t think so, Mina.”

“Oh.” This one made her frown, her lips turned into a pout once again. “The dog from Up could talk.”

“That’s because it was an animated movie.”

“I want a talking dog.”

“Me too.”

Mimi’s drunken yell that it was her turn distracted Mina for a moment, but soon she was staring up at you again.

“Would you still love me if I was a worm?”

“If you were a worm?” This conversation was getting weird. You found yourself laughing again, hoping that your answer wouldn’t give your feelings away. ‘Well, I guess. But how would you turn into a worm?”

“You never know. But you wouldn’t squish me?”

“Not if I knew it was you.”

“Good.” She seemed satisfied with your answer and you let out a relieved sigh, only for her to startle you by sitting up and grabbing your hand. “We wanna sing!” She yelled, interrupting Mimi, and you groaned internally. It was going to be a long night.

By the end of the party, only you, Haebin, and Hana were sober enough to help everyone get home. Haebin took responsibility for Nayoung and Soyee while Hana convinced Sally, Sejeong, and Hyeyeon to stay at the house with her and Mimi. Which, of course, left you with Mina.

Her apartment was close to yours, so you accepted your fate, calling goodbye to your friends as you wrapped an arm around her to make sure she didn’t fall and set off on your way.

The night air was cool and it seemed to sober her up a little bit, because she was mostly quiet as the two of you walked, only humming occasionally under her breath. But as you walked up to her apartment door, she suddenly turned to you and grabbed your arm, holding you tight again.

“Is something wrong?” You asked as you opened the door, her code already memorized from how much time you’d spent at her place.

“I need to know something.” She was obviously still drunk, her face flushed and her body swaying slightly, and you sighed, guiding her inside.

“What is it?”

“Would you still like me if I confessed that I like you?”

Her words made you freeze in your tracks, your heartbeat roaring in your ears. “W-what?” You turned to face her, your eyes wide and your chest feeling tight.

“I like you,” she said bluntly, studying your face, then slumping forward. “Sorry, you hate me now, it’s okay.”

“I don’t hate you!” You were rushing, trying to find the right words to say. “Actually, I like you too. I could never hate you. But you’re drunk, Mina. Right now isn’t the time to talk about this.”

“What do you mean?”

You took a deep breath. “I don’t want to do anything to you in this state. So if you remember this conversation when you wake up, call me and then we can talk. When we’re both sober.”

“Oh. Okay.” She looked down at the ground. “I am tired.”

“I know you are,” you said softly, guiding her to her room. “So get some sleep and we’ll talk in the morning. Okay?”

She sat down on her bed and accepted the pajamas you put in her arms. “Okay.”

“Goodnight, Mina,” you said, turning for the door, and after a moment, she replied.

“Goodnight.”

Your heart pounded the entire way home, and even later, laying in your bed, her words still repeated in your head, over and over. And you knew you weren’t going to be getting much sleep.

The next morning, you woke up to a text from Hana complaining about spilled alcohol in the carpet, but no messages from Mina. The events of the night before were still fresh in your mind, and you couldn’t help but feel disappointed as you sighed and padded to your bathroom to wash up.

It wasn’t until you were searching through your cabinets for a late breakfast that your phone rang, making your breath catch in your throat.

It was her. Did she remember?

“Hello?” You tried your best not to sound too hopeful, but your heart was already jumping around in your chest and your stomach felt like it was being tied into knots. On the other side of the line, you heard her clear her throat.

“Hey (Y/N). Thanks for taking care of me last night.” There was a slight waver to her voice, and she sounded like she was in pain. She probably was in pain: hangovers were getting worse as the two of you got older.

“Well I couldn’t just leave you to your own devices,” you said, adding a playful lilt to your voice. “You were so drunk you asked me if dogs could talk.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry about that.” She let out a soft laugh. “I was a mess. I guess I should stay away from tequila from now on.”

You swallowed down the ball of nerves beginning to ball in your throat before replying. “So, how much do you remember from last night?”

“Most of it. I remember all of the singing and clinging onto you and asking you a bunch of dumb questions.” She paused for a moment. “And one not dumb question when you brought me home.”

“Oh.” The breath left your lungs and you leaned against your counter, your body thrumming with so much anticipation that you were almost shivering. “So you remember me asking you to call?”

“I do. And I’ve been super nervous all morning, but since my drunk self decided to confess, there’s no going back now. So I called to say that I, um, still like you.”

Happiness and relief washed over you, giddiness replacing the nerves and making you want to burst into laughter. “That’s a good thing, since I still like you too.”

“Oh. Good.” She started to laugh, and you joined in, enjoying the sound even through the phone speaker. “That’s great. So, uh, should we date now?”

“That seems to be the next step,” you joked, feeling like you were floating. “So I’ll ask you out on our first date. Would you like to go to brunch with me?”

“I guess I’ll have to thank drunk me.” She giggled on the other line, making you smile so wide that your cheeks hurt. “Because I’d love to go out with you. How does eleven sound?”

“That sounds perfect.”

#femifics #gugudan #gu9udan #mina #kang mina #gugudan mina #gugudan scenarios #mina scenarios #gugudan mina scenarios #girl group scenarios #kpop scenario #girl groups #kpop girl groups

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kamilah-the-bloodqueen · 4 years

Text

For the anon who wanted a fic where Kamilah and Amy don’t know each other: This is a short 2-3 part, one-shot AU where Amy is working as a Barista and meets Kamilah in a frenzy yatta yatta yatta you get the idea. It’s not smuuty yet because I wanted to kind of develop some sort of relationship between them?? Part 2 (and 3 if i choose to not be lazy) will be smutty I promise ;)

Pairing: Kamilah x MC (Amy)

Warnings: Fluff? I don’t know there’s no angst because FUCK ANGST

*BEEP BEEP*

Amy groaned, covering her face with her pillow as she rolled over, hitting snooze on her phone. It was too early for this, she thought as she smacked the snooze button.

*BEEP BEEP*

Amy glanced at her phone, her eyes squinting as she sighed glancing at the time. 5:20.

“5:20?!?! I overslept damnit!!!” Amy tumbled out of bed, rubbing her eyes as she hurried towards her closet. She hastily pulled her cellphone out to see 4 missed calls from Zig. She threw on a pair of skinny jeans and a white t-shirt, grabbed her wallet and scurried out the door, furiously typing apologies to Zig.

Sorry Zig! I overslept!

Hey no worries, just don’t let it happen again. Not a great first day, see you when you get here.

Amy speed walked down the empty streets of New York, the faint glow of the streetlights giving Amy some level of comfort as she dashed down the sidewalks. She hastily texted to Lily, explaining the entire fiasco, totally ignorant to the gorgeous woman who barely made it out of the cafe before Amy tumbled straight into her, spilling the scalding coffee over both of them. Amy shook her arms as she picked up her phone before meeting the woman’s cold and irritated gaze. Amy opened her mouth to apologize, but the stranger's deep brown eyes captivated her, even in their irritation. Amy took in the woman’s defined features, her dark brown hair, her coffee-stained maroon suit, her perfectly simple makeup. Amy swore she heard the woman mumble under her breath but she was too dazed to have caught it, she fiddled with her jeans as she handed the woman a half soggy 20$ bill before shuffling inside.

“I am terribly sorry. It’s my first day and quite possibly my last.” Amy bowed her head as the stranger huffed in anger, crunching her bill between her hands as she strided off, her angry eyes speaking louder than anything she could have said.

“What happened?” Zig questioned as Amy put an apron on over her wet t-shirt, tears welling in her eyes as she asked the next customer for their order.

“Nuffin..” She sniffled as she began to brew a regular coffee, Zig almost interjected but decided it was best to leave Amy to her own and not escalate the situation.

The rest of the day went by smoothly, Amy brewing all the coffee precisely, nearly impressing Zig with her barista skills. Amy sighed as Zig shut the lights off for the night, handing Amy a small bag and an envelope as they walked into the streets of New York.

“What’s this?” Amy raised an eyebrow as she curiously took the items from his hands.

“Despite you spilling coffee all over yourself and a customer, it’s your share of the tips and your share of the leftover pastries. We don’t waste here.” Zig smiled as he held up his own bag and envelope, smiling at Amy as he turned on his way. “Have a good night Amy! See you tomorrow!”

Amy smiled as she strided back to her apartment, immediately investigating the bag of pastries as she entered the threshold. Lily bouncing off of the couch to greet her as she set the bag on the table.

“You rushed out the door so quickly this morning I didn’t even see you go!! What’s in the bag?” Lily beamed with excitement as Amy handed her a french pastry, Lily biting into it and savoring the sweet cream. “How was it?” Lily sat down on the barstool as Amy flopped onto the couch, closing her eyes before taking a deep breath.

“I didn’t even make it in the front door before I spilled coffee all over this woman, but other than that it was fine.” Amy buried her face in the pillows, embarrassed at the recollection of this morning's catastrophe. Her mind ran rampant at all of the other ways that interaction could have gone as Lily placed a reassuring hand on Amy’s shoulder.

“Don’t sweat it okay? You look like you’ve been hit by a bus, you should sleep…” Lily gently nudged Amy towards her bedroom as Amy dragged herself up off the couch. She hugged Lily firmly before shuffling off to her bed, flopping down and falling asleep with her jeans still on.

“You’re a trainwreck Amy…” Lily plopped herself on the couch, starting her PS4 as she laughed lightly, “but you’re my best friend so I love you anyways, sleep well.”

Amy woke up early the next day, on time to the cafe without any coffee spilling incidents. She put her apron on, put the new coffee filters in and turned the open sign on before Zig arrived.

“You’re 30 minutes early.” Zig shuffled in the door, hanging his jacket on the back door as he ruffled his slick hair, smiling at Amy as she handed him a fresh cup of coffee. “Thanks, I guess this is part of the apology for probably driving away one of our customers?” He winked as he sipped from the cup, his eyes lighting up at how good it was for just a simple cup of coffee.

“I added caramel, tends to sweeten it just a little. Hope you don’t mind…” Amy fiddled with her hands as the bell to the door rang, where the same woman from yesterday stood. Her eyes found Amy as she scowled, walking straight up to the register Karen style, tapping her nails hastily against the counter.

“Hi what can I get for you today…?” Amy asked as she gently rubbed the buttons of the register, refusing to meet the cold gaze of the woman.

“A regular coffee. No cream. No sugar.” The woman held out a 100$ bill before Amy had any time to react, Zig cutting in and smiling as he took the bill and worked the register, gesturing for Amy to begin the simple order.

“Welcome back Kamilah.” He smiled and Amy caught the woman smiling back, not romantically but as if they’d known each other a while.

“I’m going to assume she’s new? I would assume you train your employees better than that…” Kamilah nodded towards Amy who nearly dropped the coffee again before holding it out with a cheeky smile.

“I am sorry about that-”

“Everyone has bad days Kamilah, even you I’m sure.” Zig smiled as he handed her the coffee, Kamilah examining the cup before taking a gentle sip.

“Perhaps, I suppose this cup and that apology will have to do. This is still my favorite cafe and I refuse to let a mor-” she hesitated, letting out a small cough before continuing, “inexperienced barista ruin it for me.” She strided out of the door as Amy sniffled, turning towards the back door as Zig gave her a reaffirming hug. Amy sighed, wiping her eyes in embarrassment before nodding silently, turning back to the counter with a smile.

“Let’s get to work.” She greeted the next customer with a smile, brushing the thought of Kamilah aside. She closed the cafe with Zig again, even creating a slick little handshake between them as they parted ways for the night, Amy heading back home where Lily sat, perched on the counter.

“Better today?” She asked, gently taking the bag of pastries from Amy.

“Yeah. How was your day Lily?” Amy sat on the couch, Lily coming over and sitting next to her.

“Nothing much. The usual you know, crazy exes and choices the Nanny Affair….” Lily stifled a yawn as Amy raised an eyebrow.

“You still play that silly game?” She let out a laugh as Lily stood up from the couch, dramatically pouting.

“I’m into girls, we have limited selection okay?” Lily fell to the floor, grabbing a pillow and making herself comfortable there before they both broke into laughter.

“You seem tired?” Amy patted Lily gently as they both stifled yawns.

“Yeah, we’re both hard working women who deserve sleep.” Lily jumped up and began to walk towards her room, “Hopefully we work this late rent out and then we can spend more time together…” Lily frowned as Amy raced over and pulled her into a hug.

“We will, I promise. I love you girl!” They hugged tightly before retreating to their rooms for the night.

The next morning was a mix between Lily and Amy grumpily sharing waffles as they made fun of the choices tumblr fandom and their crazy batshit. Lily heading off to build computers for the little company she had started, ``That Gamer Girl” that had taken quite a success during the covid crisis earlier that year. The covid crisis that was also responsible for putting Amy out of work and throwing their rent up and out of their budget. Amy made it to work, greeting Zig again before Kamilah showed up in her usual grumpy manner. Amy turned around before she even made it to the register and handed Kamilah a hot cup of coffee, her name written on the cup as Amy smiled. Kamilah raised an eyebrow as Zig watched with a mix of caution and amusement.

“One black coffee, no sugar or cream.” Amy held the cup out as Kamilah tilted her head before taking the cup and placing the 100$ bill into the tip jar. Amy tried to hide her pride as she almost caught Kamilah smiling at her, before turning to Zig and going to the back. Zig approached Kamilah with an amused look as they both watched Amy walk through the back doors.

“She’s cute isn’t she?” Zig playfully inquired, causing Kamilah to scoff and roll her eyes as she sipped the coffee.

“Not the word I would use.” Kamilah nodded to him as she headed out, taking a deeper breath and letting herself smile at the girl’s sweet gesture. Amy felt herself blush in the back as she remembered the way Kamilah had *almost* smiled at her. She shook her head at herself before heading inside where Zig greeted her with a smile.

“What was that all about?” He raised an eyebrow as he made a frappuccino for a teenage girl, who impatiently tapped her foot as she scrolled through tik tok on her phone.

“Nothing.”

“Ah,” He let out a chuckle as he handed the frappuccino off and wiped his hands, “because that’s not what it looked like.” He smirked as Amy covered her face with her hands, she could feel the blood rushing to her face as he laughed. The rest of the day passed by quickly but not quick enough, Amy rushed home and began telling Lily all the juicy details of the job, and of Kamilah as they ate pastries while watching Netflix.

“So she’s hot but?”

“But she’s out of my league.”

“You don’t know that! Maybe that smile meant she wanted to-” Amy jumped off of the couch, covering her ears as Lily laughed and made inappropriate gestures with her hands and mouth. Amy rushed into her room, closing the door before yelling.

“Goodnight you dirty minded fucker! I love you!”

---Next Day---

The door bell dinged as Kamilah strutted into the cafe, Amy already holding out the cup of coffee as she smiled at Kamilah.

“Good Morning!” Kamilah couldn’t help but give the girl a small smile, amused by her excitement this early in the morning.

“Morning…” Kamilah hesitated, looking around for Zig.

“He took the week off, to go on a roadtrip with his friends, so I’ll be here.” Amy smiled as Kamilah questioned why Zig would have left the cafe to such a new employee.

“Is this going to be a usual thing? What if I change my order?” Kamilah playfully arched an eyebrow as Amy frowned before becoming flustered.

“I-uh.” Kamilah smirked in satisfaction at how she had gotten her all frizzled.

“Your name?”

“Amy. Can’t you read the nametag?” Amy slammed her mouth shut at her words, they definitely came off the wrong way. Kamilah looked taken aback before laughing playfully, sipping her coffee before turning to leave.

“I like to be polite, Amy.” She left the cafe, leaving Amy stunned as the angry teenage girl entered demanding her complicated caramel frappuccino.

Time passed by and Amy fell into a comfortable routine, even when Zig returned from his roadtrip. Waking up and chatting with Lily about all the juicy details of their lives and then heading to work, making a black cup of coffee with no cream or sugar every morning to be ready at precisely 6:00 when Kamilah would show up. She began to write her little notes and hide them under the cupholder or to draw a smiley face on her cup of coffee. Kamilah began to enjoy the presence of Amy, her genuine playfulness intrigued her, there was something about Amy that Kamilah just couldn’t lay her finger on, or maybe that was the problem.

“Good Morning Kamilah!” Amy greeted Kamilah at the door, two cups of coffee in her hands instead of just one as Kamilah cautiously took them from her.

“You made me two cups?” Kamilah arched a brow as Amy giggled, walking back behind the counter.

“No silly! I changed one of them…” Amy smirked as Kamilah grimaced, “don’t worry! It wasn’t anything too complicated, I just thought you should broaden your horizons…”

“And if I hate them?”

“Then I’ll pay for them both and I’ll never try to broaden your horizons again…” Amy frowned as Kamilah sipped the changed cup of coffee. Despite always enjoying black coffee, whatever Amy had done to this cup was….pretty tasteful if Kamilah could say so.

“It’s...actually pretty good...what did you do to it?” Kamilah took another sip as Amy bounced on her heels, a wide childish grin written across her face.

“I added a bit of caramel! It’s how I like mine!” Amy took her hands behind her back and fiddled with them nervously as Kamilah smiled. A moment of silence passing before the usual teenage girl showed up, Amy handing her her usual frappuccino order. The girl took the drink and dumped it all over Amy as she furiously yelled for Zig, who shortly appeared from the back with his hands full of coffee beans. Kamilah jumped over the counter and began wiping the frappuccino from Amy’s shirt.

“You dumb fuck I wasn’t going to order this today!” She screamed as Zig rolled his eyes, taking her order as Kamilah helped Amy recover. Amy met the dark brown eyes of Kamilah, following her features to her lips as Kamilah dried her shirt, rubbing her hands up and down Amy’s sides as she shivered; the cold frappuccino giving her a different type of wake up call. Amy tried to control herself but couldn’t, she leaned forward and gently kissed Kamilah on the lips, immediately standing and rushing out the back as Kamilah followed behind.

“I’m sorry!” Amy turned around as soon as she stepped outside, bumping against Kamilah who stood there with a smirk.

“Something tells me you’ve been wanting to do that…” Kamilah smirked as she pulled Amy’s notes from a pocket inside her blazer, Amy’s jaw dropping at the sight.

“You...kept them?” Amy felt tears well up in her eyes as Kamilah laughed, Amy taking note of the way her eyes sparkled in the moonlight. Kamilah nodded silently before leaning down to kiss Amy once more, the taste of coffee on her lips as the smell of her lavender perfume drove Amy mad. Kamilah’s hands found Amy’s hips as she flipped her and pushed her against the back door, her lips moving to kiss along the baristas neck as Amy moaned softly.

“I...should get back to work…” Amy mumbled against Kamilah’s lips as she tangled her hands in her hair, her body aching for more than just simple kisses.

“That’s not what your body is telling me...and I can hear it in your voice…” Kamilah huffed in frustration as Amy pulled away, scribbling her phone number on Kamilah’s hand before opening the back door with a smile- her cheeks still flushed pink as she gasped for air.

“How about a date? Tomorrow night at 6?” Amy smiled at Kamilah’s shocked expression. She walked back into the cafe, leaving Kamilah stunned at what had just happened.

#kamilah sayeed #kamilah x mc #mc x kamilah #don't get offended at my references to real life you snowflake #im kidding but seriously its just all for comedy dont take me seriously #this blog is a jokeeeeeee so chill before you get all mad and upsetti spaghetti #i hope this shows in the tags :(

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not-close-to-straight · 5 years

Text

Blue Roses (Crowley/Azira)(FlowerShop AU)

The obligatory Flower Shop AU for these Ineffable Dorks, ft. entirely smitten and dramatic demon!Crowley and adorable in every way human!Azira.

There’s more on my FIC MASTERLIST!

(A “hells bell” is another name for the ‘Devil’s Breath’ flower but also of course, a song by AC/DC, who I think Crowley would have thoroughly enjoyed)

Also, idk how this got so long?? I finally forced myself to stop??

******************

Hell’s Bells Botanicals was the most successful flower shop in all of London and in no way could that success be attributed to excellent customer service or the owner being the sort of chap who was friends with everyone.

In fact, Hell’s Bells Botanicals was the most successful flower shop in all of London despite having the worst customer service imaginable and an owner that obviously enjoyed making every moment in his shop as unpleasant as possible.

Anthony J Crowley was surly and ill mannered, impatient with potential customers and downright aggravating with repeat customers, and underwent transactions as if it irked him to his very soul to sell the plants he raised.

Most times he was hiding away in the green leaves and staring balefully from behind black sunglasses when a customer tried to talk to him, other times he sprawled gracelessly across the counter and smirked at the shock over his sheer unprofessional-ism.

He was awful-- sarcastic and churlish and flippant to the point of disrespect, but his plants were so lush, his flowers so lovely, the succulents beautiful in a nearly unearthly way, that even the Queen herself preferred his arrangements over any others.

Gardening magazines came to interview him, asking about his methods and his secrets, looking for tips and tricks so regular people at home could hope to have gardens as wonderful as the one Crowley boasted in the greenhouse out back.

All inquiries were answered with a smile bordering on insolent, a flash of too sharp teeth, and a snarky, “I’ve had six thousand years to perfect my gardening, why on Earth would I give my secrets away to you people?”

Hell’s Bells Botanicals was the best, its owner quite literally the worst, and seeing as how Crowley had been around since the dawn of time and had seen any and everything the world had to offer, he didn’t see anything changing anytime soon.

But then the empty bookshop across the way was purchased by a blonde man in an old fashioned sort of suit jacket, and life as Crowley knew it changed quite a bit.

*********************

“What on earth did you do to this plant?” Crowley levelled his fiercest frown at the twenty-something boy across the counter, holding up one brittle, spotted leaf of what had been a gloriously full aloe plant just a week before. “Did you torture it?”

“Of course not!” he sputtered, drawing himself up to rather un impressive height of just about five feet. “I watered it just like I water all my plants! Left it in the sun to give it a bit of perk! If you ask me, you sold me a dying plant and that’s why--eep!”

He shut up abruptly when Crowley’s frown turned into an outright glare. “What I meant was--”

“This aloe was perfect when I sssold it to you!” Crowley announced and the poor boy had the distinct feeling of being threatened by a snake. “How much did you water it?”

“...every day?”

“Every day?” he shouted. “You killed the poor thing! Drowned it like a pile of ratsss! Look at it!”

“I--I--”

“My god--” the word sounded strangled as if it physically pained the shop keep to say it. “--Who on earth kills a cactus? A cactus!”

“Anyway.” the young man said timidly. “I was hoping you’d give me another one? Quite liked it sitting there in my window and--”

“Here.” Crowley pulled a jar of aloe gel from...somewhere... and smacked it into the boy’s hand. “This is all the aloe you get to have. No more plants for you.”

“But--”

“No more plants for you!”

The boy left with his jar of aloe, shuffling out the door feeling inexplicably guilty for having failed at taking care of his plant, and inside the shop Crowley carried the wilting thing back to the greenhouse.

“Humans.” he snorted, tossing away his sunglasses to squint closer at the poor thing. “Six thousand years on this bloody rock and they still haven’t figured out how to take care of a plant. Suppose I shouldn’t be all that shocked considering they’ve barely figured out to take care of themsel--”

“Crowley?” A voice from the front of the shop and Crowley straightened with a jerk, flailing for his sunglasses to cover his rather other worldly eyes. “Crowley my dear, are you in today?”

Oh. Oh there was exactly one human in this city, on this isle, maybe even on the entire planet that made Crowley not want to breathe unholy fire and it would only be--

“Azira.” Crowley purred the name, baring his teeth in his friendliest smile and taking care to hide the sharper bits. “How are you today?”

“As well as always I suppose.” Azira was all things good cheer, an always ready smile topped with sparkling eyes and curls as bouncy as his always ready to burst laugh and Crowley absolutely adored him. “Back in your greenhouse, were you?”

“Coaxing life back into an aloe plant.” Crowley jumped up onto the counter just because he rather liked it when the bookshop owner had to look up at him from beneath damnably-- blessedly-- thick eyelashes. “Are you here for your flowers again?”

“It is the seventh.” Azira grinned and Crowley had to keep his wings from rustling in response, checking over his shoulder just in case he’d lost his hold on them and they were waving black and feathered above his head. “I’m here for the usual amount of blooms. You know, I’ve had so many compliments on those flowers, it’s brilliant how they manage to hold their color a month at a time.”

“I take special care to be sure they do.” Crowley answered, thinking back to the more than stern talking to he’d given the last round of flowers to be sure they stayed lovely and fresh for exactly a month. “Dunno why it is, flowers just seem to respond to me.”

“I’d say you have an angel’s touch.” Azira complimented, positively pink cheeked with it all and Crowley bit back a very un angelic growl at the innocent flirting. “I think something in shades of yellow this time, for the summer months?”

“I have just the thing.” He promised and jumped off the counter to head for the back room, a little extra swing in his already swaggering walk since he’d caught Azira watching more than once. “Do you like blue, Azira?”

“Yes, it’s quite lovely!” Azira called. “If you had a few pieces to put in with the yellow?”

“I’ll check and see.” Crowley called back from behind the door and then looked over at a pile of pink sweet peas and ordered quietly, “You are blue, aren’t you? At least three different shades so hop to it.”

And as an afterthought as he wrapped up a bouquet of yellow dahlias-- “Make it match the color of Azira’s eyes. Get on it now.”

The sweet peas did exactly what someone would expect pink flowers to do--meaning they did absolutely nothing-- until Crowley pointed a finger at them and growled, “I said hop. to. it.”

In a puff of pollen that was as close to talking back as as flower could come, the sweet peas shaded into a rich navy blue, a summer sky blue and then a shade that perfectly matched Azira’s eyes that Crowley mentally dubbed angel blue.

“Oh, Crowley they are perfect!” Azira beamed when Crowley returned with arms full of yellow dahlias and blue sweet peas. “Thank you so much! I’m so glad your flowers live so long you know, otherwise I’d be in here ever few weeks buying more and that would put a damper in my pocketbook, wouldn’t it?”

“Oh, you’d come in here more if the flowers didn’t live so long?” Crowley queried. “How interesting.”

“Of course I would.” Azira buried his nose in the flowers and made a happy noise at the sweet scent. “You’re my favorite place on the block, you know. I don’t see why everyone else thinks you’re terrible, you’ve never said a cross word to me at all.”

“Yes.” Crowley had to work hard to keep the hiss from his voice and the smirk from his face. “Yes, I don’t see why they think I’m terrible either. I’ll see next month, then?”

“Of course.” Azira lay down the usual amount of money and turned to leave. “Good day, Crowley!”

“You will grow for two weeks and two weeks only.” Crowley snarled at the departing flower. “Thirteen days and on the fourteenth if you aren’t wilting, so help me someone I will come over and cut you myself!”

If Azira felt the dahlias trembling as he arranged them into a vase by the window, he didn’t think anything of it, just gave them fresh water and a soothing pat on the leaves. “There there, lovelies. Be fresh and sweet for me and brighten up my shop for a while, won’t you?”

He went to work shelving books, humming quietly and letting his thoughts wander back to the oddly good looking flower shop owner who had absolutely no reason to walk quite so provocatively or to wear pants quite that tight or to smile quite so knowingly.

And when Azira’s thoughts wandered too far down that particular path, he set himself to reorganizing the old encyclopedias.

Nothing remotely romantic about the Encyclopedia Britannica.

Nothing at all.

*****************

Exactly fourteen days later, a sheepish Azira stood in Crowley’s shop and waited with red cheeks for the man to stop practically howling in rage at someone having returned an apple tree that had been so thoroughly stripped of its bark it barely resembled a tree at all any more.

“Now, didn’t I tell you to get a bit of fence to put around it? Keep the deer away?”

“Well yes, but--”

“And you didn’t, so it got chomped to within an inch of its life?”

“I suppose so--”

“And you have the absolute nerve, the unmitigated gall to walk in here and to my face--” Crowley pointed at his sunglasses. “--and demand a refund because the tree didn’t survive? What a great pair of clangin’ brass balls you’ve got, huh?”

“I--I--”

“GET OUT!”

The woman scuttled from the shop muttering something about ‘lousy prick, would piss off the pope’ and ‘absolutely do not have brass balls, how dare he?’ as she went.

“You’re acting as if she maliciously murdered the poor thing.” Azira tsked, stepping up to the counter and touching the sad looking tree. “Just some careless on her part, sure to be forgiven don’t you think?”

“I am not in the business of forgiving.” Crowley snarled. “Especially not when people are lazy and careless and hurt innocent--” he looked up to see Azira’s lovely eyes very wide. “--um, innocent things. Did you need something, Azira? It hasn’t been a month already, has it?”

“Oh no, no it hasn’t been a month.” Azira whispered something encouraging to the tree and then looked up with an embarrassed sort of smile. “On the subject of plants not lasting as long as we hoped, I’m afraid to tell you my flowers have already withered. Don’t know if I watered them too much or forgot to add a little plant food, but I’m here for more.”

He rocked back on his heels, tugging at his coat in a nervous sort of gesture. “You aren’t going to shout at me and accuse me of having brass nethers are you?”

“I would never.” Crowley said solemnly, trying his very hardest not to laugh at how contrite Azira looked. “It’s no fault of your own that cut flowers don’t last long, it might be my snipping the stems at the wrong angle or something along those lines. I certainly won’t be shouting at you for that.”

“Oh thank heavens.” Azira’s smile stretched from ear to ear. “Anyway, I’m here to purchase more? In the same blue and yellow if you have it.”

“I’m sure I can make it happen.” Crowley cocked his head, looked Azira over curiously. “I don’t suppose I could make this up to you? No charge for the flowers since its most likely my fault and if you were amenable...” six thousand years on Earth and Crowley had never been more nervous than he was now. “...could I tempt you to dinner? The Ritz?”

“Oh dinner would be---.” Azira looked adorably flustered, flushed to the tip of his ears and playing with buttons of his vest. “The Ritz seems too fancy, though? And of course I’ll pay for more flowers, that isn’t an issue.”

“That isn’t a no to dinner, then?” Crowley planted both hands on the counter and leaned right over into Azira’s space, waggling his eyebrows above his glasses. “Just that the Ritz seems too fancy. Do you have another spot in mind?”

“Well, I--” Azira couldn’t seem to stop smiling. “If you insist, I do love a yummy dinner.”

“What’sss your favorite food, Azira?” Crowley let his ‘ss’ roll lazy at the end of the word, thrilled by the way Azira was so clearly happy about the invitation. “I’ll take you out tonight?”

“....I’m fond of seafood.”

“Excellent.” Crowley hated seafood but that didn’t matter at the moment. “I’ll bring your new flowers by when I pick you up.”

“Oh.” Azira looked as pleased as he’d ever been, eyes dropping shyly to the floor before meeting Crowley’s again. “Thank you.”

********************

Crowley had tired of dating or courting or anything even resembling those ridiculous customs almost a hundred years prior, giving up the arduous chase to settle for the occasional tumble with whichever pretty person caught his eyes.

He didn’t really have a sex drive, not in the traditional sense anyway, but it was fun to do all that sort of thing. Sex involved pleasure and lust and coveting and jealousy and half a dozen other things he had every right to indulge in seeing as how he was fallen and all.

Not that fallen really meant anything anymore. Angels themselves roamed around indulging in excess in the form of food or possessions, claiming to be in love and then moving from partner to partner and deciding that any sort of love was blessed love. Demons kept to mainly small time mischief and angels were usually there to thwart them, keeping the balance as to not upset any of the higher powers that were, and things were generally calm.

In fact, if it weren’t for the plants he supernaturally threatened into flourishing and the yellow and black eyes he hid behind the sunglasses, Crowley would feel human most days.

But tonight as he crossed the street to Azira’s bookstore clutching an over large bouquet of yellow and blue roses, Crowley was distinctly aware of the sunglasses over his eyes, the weight of his hidden wings on his back and the way his movements were just a hint too smooth to be natural.

Perhaps Azira would be too smitten to notice.

Oh he hoped so.

“Crowley!” Azira looked simply cherubic in a smart white suit and matching hat, burying his face in the roses and peeking up at Crowley with a shy sort of smile. “Roses! You shouldn’t have!”

“I absolutely should have.” Crowley replied flatly, as if his heart wasn’t practically pounding from his chest. Honestly a mortal had no business looking so sweet. “Do you like the blue?”

“I love it!” Azira dropped the blooms into a waiting vase. “I thought blue roses were all genetically engineered, though? You don’t strike me as the type to use altered flowers?”

“Ah. These are not genetically engineered. They are entirely natural. My secret, of course. That’s why the Queen loves them so.” It wasn’t exactly a lie. The roses weren’t genetically engineered at all. An hour previous they had been lovely and pink and Crowley had glared with every shred of his fury until the petals had dipped a glorious shade of midnight blue that contrasted wonderfully with the yellow.

“I love it.” Azira said again, shrugging into his jacket. “Shall we away, then?”

“Shall we?” Crowley offered his arm to the blond. “Dinner awaits.”

******************

Dinner with Azira was perfect. The man was charming and sweet and hilarious in a well restrained sort of way, muffling his laughter into a napkin and sipping at his wine, eating each piece of sushi with the sort of joy Crowley had given up on feeling centuries ago.

They talked about Shakespeare, about Hamlet and about the hilarity of how certain plays had been misconstrued to mean something entirely different than the Bard had originally intended.

They chatted about their favorite music, Azira declaring anything written after the forties to be ‘be bop’ and terrible while Crowley waxed almost embarrassingly poetic about the raw truth in the lyrics of rock and roll, the way heartbreak and grief came through so clearly.

“Tell me how you came to be in the flower business.” Azira encouraged over a shared piece of cake called ‘Better than Sex’. “You’re so good at cultivating your plants, does it run in your family?”

“My earliest memories are in a garden.” Crowley said truthfully, and with no small amount of mirth. “I’m particularly partial to apple trees, if I’m being quite honest.”

“Which is why you frightened that poor woman half to death for letting hers be stripped so thoroughly?”

“Exactly.”

On the way back to their street Crowley asked, “Do you sell many books? I feel as if you just sort of hoard them, I never see anyone leaving with a package.”

“Oh.” Azira tipped his head back and smiled up at a flowering tree as they passed underneath. “I’m afraid I purchased the book shop simply so I could be surrounded by books. I have no intention of selling any ever. Too fond of them.”

Crowley burst into surprised laughter. “Honestly? You bought a book shop so you had a place to put all your books?”

“Well, I live above it as well.” Azira huffed. “It’s more that I bought a place to live that happened to have extra bookshelves.”

“Of course you did, angel.” Crowley’s smile was more fond than he meant it to be, the pet name slipping out before he noticed. They’d known each other nearly a year now, and it had been only the second visit when Azira had been framed in the window with sunlight filtering through his hair, ringed in a perfect halo and Crowley had-- embarrassingly enough-- shattered a planter pot on the floor he’d been so stunned at the thought of Azira being an actual angel.

He wasn’t an angel of course, and Crowley figured that out by the end of the day, but for a moment the man had been so stunning, so ethereal, so perfectly poised as if to take flight that angel had stuck firmly in Crowley’s mind--

--and now it had dropped into open conversation and it had been a long time since Crowley had been so flustered he full on reverted to snake form, but he could feel the scales slipping up his back, could feel his knees turn to jello and his eyes jerked towards an alley as they passed, wondering if it were an appropriate place to slither off to and--

“--angel, is it?” Azira bumped Crowley’s shoulder teasingly. “It’s the blond hair, isn’t it? I’ve been told I look terribly cherubic. Baby faced, even.”

“You’re lovely.” That hadn’t been meant to slip out either, but angel had gone over so well Crowley figured a compliment couldn’t hurt. “And cherubic doesn’t have to mean baby faced, all angels are fierce in their own right.”

“Well then, I suppose I won’t take any offense.” Azira paused in front of his bookshop. “Could I invite you up for a drink?”

Temptation, thick and familiar and well-- tempting, even if the drink was probably offered with nothing more than friendship in mind.

“I have to be up early with the plants.” Crowley said instead and Azira nodded in understanding. “Tonight was fun though.” it was easy to miracle a flower behind Azira’s back and offer it up with a smile that stretched to a grin when Azira took it with a pleased little gasp. “We should do it again. Tomorrow?”

“Dinner tomorrow?”

“If you’d like.”

“Oh.” Pink cheeks, and Crowley’s wings rustled in anticipation. “I’d like that. Very much.”

*****************

Dinner the next night went just as well as it had the first time around, and dinner the night after that was wonderful as well.

Then there were afternoons in the park, Crowley lounging on a blanket while Azira read poetry. Breakfasts of delicate crepes and rich coffee eaten on the rooftop cafe of fancy hotels. Music by the river, Azira insisting he didn’t dance and Crowley dragging him up onto the grass to sway the beat anyway.

For an entire month they met up every day for one reason or another, and every time Crowley came with flowers until the bookshop was nearly over flowing. He miracled blooms out of thin air to tuck into blonde hair, pressed them between the pages of books for Azira to find later, shut down the shop for no reason at all than to stroll down the street and hand over a carnation simply because he could.

Six thousand years and Crowley had never met anyone he’d wanted to see three--four--five days in a row but after a month of casual get togethers and romantic dates and long walks in the moonlight, Crowley had to admit that he was perhaps more than smitten with the book shop owner.

And then he called round for dinner on Saturday and Azira was ‘terribly sorry, but I’ve already made plans’ and stepped out with a tall man in a grey suit, dark hair and dark eyes and a booming sort of voice Crowley could hear even from down the street.

The next morning someone came by to pick up a few plants Her Majesty had ordered, and everything in Hell’s Bells Botanicals was withering away in their pots, leaves spotted and flowers wilted, vines limp and succulents dehydrated and a crankier than usual owner fallen dramatically onto the counter top, legs splayed and arms over his eyes, moaning loudly as if the very world were ending.

“Uh, Mr. Crowley, sir.” the customer asked timidly. “I’m here for the plants, the ones for Buckingham?”

“Fuck. Off.” Crowley muttered. “Right this moment or I’ll breathe hell fire and singe that stupid hairstyle right off your Botoxed forehead.”

“I--” the customer considered his options, thought about how much he liked his hair and wisely decided not to press the issue, letting himself out the front door, leaving the volatile owner to wallow in a black mood.

It was lunch time before the bell rang again and this time a cheerful, “Crowley, my dear?” had the demon falling right off the counter and scrambling to right himself, affecting as cool and casual a posture as he could in an attempt to not let Azira know exactly how long he’d been sulking.

“Ah. Azira.” Crowley snapped his fingers and growled something the human didn’t catch and every plant in the shop straightened and tried to green up again. “How are you?’

“Well enough, I suppose.” Azira looked extra cheerful today and it grated on Crowley’s nerves. “I was hoping you could sell me a potted plant today? I love the flowers, but I’d like to try my hand at actually growing something. Seeing as how you live so close, you could come over and help me water it and things, right?”

“Azira, you wound me. You only want me for my flowers?” Crowley’s hurt expression was only partly feigned. “And here I thought we were having so much fun with our dates! But then of course, you went out with someone else last night didn’t you?”

“Oh and about that as well.” Azira didn’t look guilty or embarrassed or even shy about it. “I’ve decided I’d much rather have dinner with you. I’m afraid Gabriel isn’t half as interesting as he thinks he is and I’m not exactly sure what his job is or where it takes him, but he’s only ever in London a few times a year and this was his first time visiting me at my new shop--” he waved his hand airily.

“Anyway, I thought if you weren’t busy tonight, perhaps you’d come over? I could cook for you! I bought a lovely bottle of wine and we could listen to old records and maybe just sit together?”

“Oooh sitting together.” Crowley didn’t mean to sound so snarky, or perhaps he did, but he was still a little irritated at being stood up-- even if they hadn’t had an official date-- for some one named Gabriel. He’d never met a Gabriel he liked and he was sure this fellow would be no different. “Moving awfully fast, aren’t we? Did you and your gentleman caller sit together last night?”

“If you’re going to act like that, consider yourself uninvited.” Azira informed him with a sniff, and Crowley gaped at the human for a full minute. “I had every intention of kissing you tonight but if you’re going to be rude, maybe I won’t.”

“You’d hold your kisses hostage!” Crowley was very nearly outraged at the thought. “Angel, how can you be so cruel!”

“Well they’re my kisses to withhold.” Azira was nearly laughing and Crowley relaxed. “Bring me blue roses again and I’ll forgive your little fit. Don’t be so jealous, love. It’s a terrible color on you.”

“All colors are good on me.” the vines behind Crowley’s head grew an inch or so when the censure left his voice. “And I’ll bring you blue roses.”

“Leave the sunglasses here, maybe?” Azira asked hopefully. “We’ve known each other for a year and have been out for dates for weeks now and I’ve yet to even see your eyes.”

“Ah.” Crowley hesitated. “My eyes are... well they aren’t entirely... you see the thing is--”

“Tell me tonight.” Azira blew him a kiss that had no business making Crowley smile so big. “Come hungry, yes?”

******************

“You weren’t really jealous of Gabriel, were you?” Azira asked after a delicious dinner and custardy dessert and a bottle and most of another bottle of wine. “Not really, I mean.”

“I suppose I wasss a little.” Crowley admitted, letting the wine roll rich around his tongue. “Stupid of me, really. We’ve been seeing each other for a month and I’ve been acting like we’ve been going together for years. Ugly thing, jealousy.”

“Sort of flattering.” Azira said hesitantly. “In certain circumstances and in the right doses, maybe.”

“Maybe.” Crowley plucked one of the blue roses he’d brought over off the side table and held it to his nose. “But I’m sorry all the same. For being obnoxious, I mean. Not for being jealous. Can’t help that, sort of comes with the territory.”

“And what territory is that?” Azira asked, tucking himself into the corner of the couch Crowley hadn’t taken over with his long legged sprawl. “Hm?”

“Oh you know.” Crowley was drunk and half past caring, ready to share his secrets with his angel just for the sake of saying it out loud. “Angels get to be all pure and patient. We are supposed to be jealous and ill tempered. I enjoy it for the most part, shouldn’t really complain but--”

“Angels.” Azira repeated. “You mean wings and halos and all that?”

“You... are not as surprised as you should be.” Crowley said slowly and Azira replied, “Yes well, I’m very drunk. Nothing’s very shocking right now. Besides, it people can believe in aliens and the earth being flat, it’s not much of a reach for me to believe in angels--”

“--and demons.” Crowley finished, and whipped off his glasses with a flourish, baring his snake eyes. “Not much of a reach at all.”

“Look at that.” Azira’s eyes went comically wide. “My goodness. My goodness. My good--”

“Say something else besides that.” Crowley demanded, the rose crushing in his fingers as he clenched his fist anxiously. “And if you’re too upset about it all, I can make it so you don’t remember tomorrow, erase all of this last month if you want. We can go right back to you buying flowers from me once a--”

“Hell’s Bells!” Azira blurted then, and Crowley frowned.

“What?”

“Hell’s Bells!” he said again, clapping his hands as laughter bubbled up and over. “Oh god, a demon running a flower shop and calling it Hell’s Bells! Is it after the song or that awful flower or some sort of mix of the two?”

“I--” Crowley narrowed his eyes. “A mix of the two, thought it would be clever.”

“Very clever.” Azira toasted him and then refilled the glass. “More wine, my dear?”

“You’re far too drunk to process what’s happening.” Crowley decided. “Which means there will be no kissing tonight either. I’ll go home and let you sober up and if you want to talk in the morning--”

“Hell’s Bells.” Azira was still chuckling over it. “No wonder your plants grow so well. Put the fear of god into them, didn’t you? Or the fear of Satan? The fear of some higher power, right? Is that why you have the best plants in all of London?”

“You really are sloshed, aren’t you?” A long suffering sort of sigh because while Crowley really had been looking forward to a kiss tonight, he was sort of relieved to have another chance to have this conversation sober.

Announcing that he was less than mortal usually involved a lengthy explanation if the person bothered to stick around, at least a hundred mostly moronic and fairly invasive questions and seeing as how it had been over a hundred years since the last time Crowley had even attempted this sort of talk, he had to imagine now there would be hours and hours of research on the internet as well.

He wasn’t looking forward to any of that, but at least if Azira was sober Crowley would have the chance to explain and properly gauge his--

“Did you magic up blue flowers for me because I love them?” Azira whispered and Crowley nodded. “And make sure my blooms lasted an entire month?”

“...I did.”

“And only two weeks this last time so you had an excuse to ask me for dinner?”

“...yes?”

“Adorable.” Azira leaned back into the cushions and closed his eyes, a peaceful smile on his face. “Simply ador...demon making blue flowers...so sweet...”

Crowley left him sleeping there on the couch, a blanket pulled up to his shoulders and wine put away. “Goodnight, angel.” he whispered, and pointed sternly at the blue roses. “Be beautiful for him, or so help me Satan I will pull your thorns off one by one, don’t think I wont.”

The bookshop door closed behind the demon, and the blue roses quivered in terror.

**********************

Morning dawned bright and early and Crowley came downstairs from his flat to open the shop only to find Azira already standing outside, tapping on the glass eagerly.

“What are you doing here so early?” Crowley kept the closed sign on the door and ushered Azira in. “Are you feeling alright?”

“Let me see.” Azira demanded, motioning to Crowley’s sunglasses. “I have to know I wasn’t dreaming.”

“...alright.” The moment of truth, the moment where Crowley knew if Azira really was alright with all of it, or if he and his plants were going to be alone for another millenia.

Azira gasped when he saw the yellow and black eyes, but then he let out a very undignified snort of laughter and asked, “So do the other demon’s think it’s funny or cheesy you call this place Hell’s Bells?”

“I don’t make a habit of talking to the others.” Crowley set his glasses down slowly. “Got tired of them after a few thousand years. Are you really alright with this?”

“Gabriel’s not human.” Azira informed him then. “He refers to himself as a celestial being and we met quite by accident almost ten years ago. He’s the one who got me most of my older books but there’s nothing romantic there, I can assure you. He’s pompous and arrogant and sort of an asshole, if I’m being honest. Anyway not half as fun as you are. Plus--” and here Azira looked hilariously offended. “--he makes fun of me for eating sushi and likes to brag that he doesn’t need to eat so he doesn’t bother. How that is bragging, I’ll never know, but we have drinks every few months or so and he usually brings me a new book.”

“The archangel Gabriel has drinks with you every few months.” Crowley repeated. “And you think he’s an asshole?”

“Yes.” Azira nodded. “Quite. Anyway, I’m used to having a supernatural being hanging around, must be why I’m so comfortable around you.”

“Being friends with an archangel is very different than having dinner with a demon.” he pointed out. “Very different.”

“It’s certainly more fun.” Azira countered. “And you’re much more handsome than he is. Though knowing you’re not quite human sure explains why you walk that way. All distracting and hip swinging?”

“That hassss nothing to do with me being not quite human.” Crowley teased, and Azira turned bright red. “And I’d never make fun of you for eating sushi.”

“I know you wouldn’t.” Azira took a hesitant step forward, then another even closer. “And I’d still like to kiss you, if that’s quite alright. Unless you don’t do that sort of thing with people like me--OH!”

He startled when Crowley snatched him up tight and crushed a less than chaste kiss to his mouth, both arms wrapping around his waist, a tongue that felt maybe a hint longer than normal playing at his lips, the demon practically glommed onto his body for several minutes until Azira had to pinch at his side and remind Crowley, “Some of us have to breathe, you know!”

But it was hard to be irritated about things like losing oxygen when Crowley finally let him up for air and Azira noticed the vines climbing the walls, the flowers budding and then blooming one after another, and sunflowers turning to bask in the glow of their affection.

And swirling in gentle circles above their heads, dozens and dozens of rose petals in different shades of blue, brushing over Azira’s cheek and landing in Crowley’s hair.

“Oh my.” Azira’s eyes lit up. “Just lovely.”

“Just lovely.” Crowley repeated, kissing him one more time. “Angel.”

*****************

But lately things had changed at the shop just enough to encourage even more customers through the door. Now when Crowley took an irresponsible plant owner to task, the book shop owner from down the street was usually perched on the counter behind him, countering every harsh word with something encouraging and light hearted.

The plants still trembled in fear of Crowley’s wrath, but they also shivered in delight as Azira came along behind his boyfriend and soothed them with gentle pats at their leaves and encouraging words to the flowers.

When Crowley fussed and fumed and hissed through his words, Azira coaxed his wings into view and set about smoothing the ruffled feathers until Crowley wasn’t quite as fangy or scaley.

And the next time Gabriel came to town, he was greeted at the door to the bookshop by one very delighted demon who shoved a bouquet of black roses into his arms, flipped him off with no small amount of glee, and shut the door in his face.

Azira laughed at least once a day over the name of the shop, changed his phone ringtone to ‘Hell’s Bells’ by AC/DC though he loathed the sound of it and accused Crowley of liking the terrible bebop just to be obnoxious.

“I’d never, angel.” Crowley swore, and then conjured up a blue rose to boop his love on the nose. “I might have helped them write the song though.”

“Oh for heavens--”

“--hell’s.” Crowley corrected.

“--for someone’s sake.” Azira finished and Crowley kissed him just because he could.

********************

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#ncts fics #good omens #ineffable husbands #aziraphale #crowley #flower shop au

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namjoonchronicles · 5 years

Text

lumière | nj

↳ genre fluff, domestic au, namjoon being sweet

↳ words 3.3k

↳ summary all of my ‘under 5 feet’ ladies, rejoice, in this fic, we are talking about major height differences in a couple and the shits we are going through that tall lads don’t, no shade, i love you tol, but sometimes we petites gotta remember to love ourselves, as we are

↳ notes lumière [lymjɛʀ] french, meaning light or shine

↳ warning extreme self-roast *hi i’m 1.49cm tall*, loving a tol person despite all odds, terrible cuteness beyond imagination, heart fluttering-smile inducing-read, a piece written from self-induced depression to prove that bad things can be beautiful

↳ namjoonchronicles’ honorary tag list @kai-tashi @septemberalien @joon94net @yourlocalalien @snugglemejeon @yoongiseesaw @majestikblue

↳ special mentions @fangirlaholicxx this was a gift to you, and i guess, for us little people, to love someone as tall as namjoon is a far fetched dream *toss aside all our other tall biases* and you of all people know how much it bothers me, for the way i whine about the parking buttons being too high, and not able to reach the pedals without adjusting my car seat, or how things i wanted to purchase is always placed so high, complaining as to why namjoon isn’t here yet to help me; this is for you, in the midst of your exam week, thanks for being patient & being my friend :)

↳ song ed sheeran ‘Tenerife Sea’ ; that sweet-sweet part where he sang ‘lumière, darling.’

Everyone thinks having a major height different with your beau is the cutest thing in the world. Easy for you to say, if you're not the one going through it endlessly, day-by-day.

Standing at 181 cm, Namjoon is one lanky dude. That's what your cousin told you when she first met him. Several years later, he is still too tall and it's either you're getting shorter or he's getting taller. You swore by the stars in your eyes, that it's the latter.

Crumpled sheets, waking up next to him is not as romantic as the movies depicted. You'd wake up, hair frenzied, and slapping his bicep because he is hogging the blanket all over to his side. His limbs drape over you, and it feels like a tree log that falls over after a typhoon. Not to mention that it is incredibly impossible to wake up and not trip over those legs. You fall flat on your face and that's your version of a wake up call. He curls to his side and invade your side of the bed when you wake up. Almost everyday, you fall to your back on the floor at the side of the bed to give him more space.

Cute? The sore disagrees.

Not when your morning work up includes jumping in place to get that shower head down to your height and failing. Do you know how dangerous that is? Wet floor, wiggling fingers to grasp air and have it finally toppling over your head, eliciting a tiny 'Ow'.

Shoulder and neck gets treated with a warm run of the water from the shower head, tips to keep living with a long lamp post beau. It soothes the strains, those knotted capillaries relaxes at the contact of warm water. Stepping out of the shower, drying the tips of your hair that managed to get wet, only to huff tiredly at the sight of the hair dryer place on the top shelf every time Namjoon uses them. Shutting your eyes and sighing in agony, the morning workout is endless. You do what you usually do: climb over the sink counter and get the hair dryers. You walk outside, and see him seated on the bed, gathering the blankets around his waist, eyes still shut. Adorable. You pushed his bangs away and grant him a simple brush of lips on his forehead. When else can you do that if not now?

Namjoon is a makeshift ladder sometimes, for changing bulbs and cleaning ceiling fans. It is never not funny because he always hanging his mouth open to watch you clean and the dust gets eaten by him. He'll choke and stagger in his stance, then you'll drop on the couch as he gathers himself. However, the situation worsens from here on end. Because? Height difference are so much apparent in public settings.

While it is easy for other couples to take cute selfies by the park, standing up. It is almost impossible for you to be in the same frame as Namjoon is, because he was too tall.

Either you took a picture of his tummy next to your face, or he takes a picture of his face next to the top of your head, with your eyes and forehead nowhere to be seen. It's annoying when you see the pictures he had taken with that huge smile of his and the strand of your hair. One thing about being in a relationship with major height difference, is when you hold hands, to walk together but he ends up walking too fast anyways, even when he didn’t mean to. So you've given up.

There once or twice he’d lost you in the crowd, and having to result to drastic measures to find you. Because no height is too tall for you, you fit in almost any places. Namjoon had made it a rule for you to walk in front of him so it's easier and no one gets lost. What he didn't figure out is that, he'd be so endorsed to keeping you safe, that he doesn't see the tree branches you walked under to be in his exact height and slap him in the face. Smack!

Once or twice, or several times, he gets knocked over by certain ceilings that you walked under unscathed. In underground train station, he has to tip his head to the side going down the escalator because his height is above average and no one cares about him. Your warning comes in a single word: Head, and it is only declared when the ceilings are too low. Your warning often comes too late. Provided his long legs and your comfortable stroll. Even signboard are as tall as he is. Sitting by the bleachers to cater to him is common. You enjoy it sometimes, but when you see the look in his brimming eyes, your smile disappears and cooing begins. He might be a really big man, but to you, he’s just a big baby.

In the outsiders eyes, you two are quite a mismatched couple. And some call you two, adorable. There's nothing adorable having to tiptoe every time you wanted to kiss on the sidewalks. Craning your head back and puckering your lips, knowing fully well that he could just walk away in three long strides to the next block, leave you hanging. Surprise kisses are out of the window. There's no surprise kisses when he is standing. Watching yourself in the full length mirror is a pain because you look like his child. He ruffles your head with ease and his cap covers half of your face. There's nothing you can share with him, at least physically. All his clothes are yours, yes. But all your clothes, are his handkerchiefs. Literally.

Things gets worse when you both are fighting. For a couple who can only be eye-to-eye when seated or lying down, heated arguments are not welcomed.

It's easy for him to ignore you, he'll act as if you aren't there. Your height makes it impossible for him to keep a straight face. The weight of the discussion is dismissed almost every time. He'll just have to avert his eyes elsewhere when you're talking about something important to you. And it calls for drastic measures from your side. That include standing on the edge of the bed, or dragging the dining chair to where he is to get to his eye level. His jaws would twitch and his lips tug into a smile, and then your hell breaks loose.

It frustrates you to the point that you would stomp the floor, balling fists on your sides. And that leaves Namjoon no choice but to manhandle you out of arguments, against your will of course. If things took turn for the worst, like when you're sulking, or giving him the cold shoulder, he tightens all the jar overnight so you can't open them the next morning. All your mugs and cereals are magically placed on the top shelf. But you're a tough cookie, so climbing over kitchen top is your forte.

Still think it's cute? Not when you’re aging.

As a counter attack, you hide his charger in the smallest space you could find in your house and unplug his computer knowing he can't fit in the small desk without knocking everything down. It doesn't end there. You put pillow forts between him and you when you watch TV sitting on the couch, in the living room. All he have to do is swat his hand over the fragile fort to get you jumping over him and choking him. He stands up and drape his limb over your entire body, smothering you with kisses, holding you in place while you watch the program, defeated, confined in his body prison unable to do anything. Fighting over the last jelly is fruitless. Namjoon would just put them above your head and you're left hopping in place. A punch on his stomach will make him cower. It usually work, even for a kiss. The lines between pleasure and pain are a blur.

You can never reach the train handle, to fix that, Namjoon holds the train handle for you, and place your hand on his biceps. Or you could wrap your arm around his waist. His stroll at the park feels like a jog to you. To make things easier, he carries you on his back. Or get a tandem bicycle, the bicycle with two seats. He'll cycle, you'll just have to place your feet on the pedal without doing anything but eat ice cream. A lot of time the seat needed to be adjusted so you could climb on and off, with ease.

Taking pictures in standing booth is definitely a challenge. You'll get upset at the view of the screen where only half of your face is showing, so he bends his knees and carry you a bit. Your legs on each of his sides facing him, the camera captures you cupping his face as he gaze up to you with his dimple showing. You share lip lock in the fun moments and the photos printed out the sequences is almost always satisfying. Sitting on the bookstores floor, leaning your head on his as he reads to you something from Hamlet's screenplay. Turning the pages, and your head moves together, blurting out the sentence on the same page. Falling asleep on the two seats at the back of the bus, your head linking on each other.

He makes it easier. But both of you are homebodies for all the good reasons. Where you could be you, and he could be him.

Where reading books, laying your stomach over his thigh is your version of a date, too endorsed in the words to notice how uncomfortable the position is. Where working out together means you sitting on his back, counting him down with every push up and repeating certain numbers to get on his nerves. Where dancing in his t shirt and your hair down while he fake sings pretending a remote is a microphone is your kind of fun, with music blasting in the background. Prancing around, wiggling butts, making your own concert at home is your favorite past times. Napping in different positions, with the opal curtains down. Watching movies with you sitting between his legs, leaning your back on his hard chest. He passes a few kisses atop of your hair, answering your questions about the movie with muffled yeses. Feeding him cheeseballs; one for you, one for him. Him falling asleep midway through the movie, and watching him instead, until you yourself lay your head on his chest, your face in the crook of his neck and drifted as well.

It seems like the only time you can be a real couple is when one person is lying down, or at home. In the pool. Like your little secret universe. A best kept secret.

Pushing him into the pool. The first time he went to the pool with you when you started dating, he made sure the world knew he couldn’t swim when you bolted at him to fall in the pool, wailing, screaming his head off, literally crying. He only stopped when you told him to stand straight because the pool’s height was less than six feet. You checked. He was so embarrassed, he couldn’t look at you in the eye. While you float on your back in a relaxed manner. Then he got really comfortable. So comfortable with you.

Pushing you after you pushed him in the water, before joining you. Kissing underwater. Lots of kissing underwater.

Floating on the surface of the water in floats while he directs by guiding your float. Never able to sit on the float together because he is too heavy. So he takes out a larger one with a smug smile. Basking under the sun with colored sunglasses, on the floats. Him lifting you up by the waist so you could seat on the brims and hand him his drink while his face crumpled in disgust at the taste which was actually red ginseng that you put inside instead of the strawberry cordial he was asking for. Your pranks are endless. But hey, it was for his health. And stamina. He is going to need that, having a lover as small as you.

But one thing rings true: Slow-dancing is not romantic when you come at the eye level of his titties.

However it is cute when your chin touches his chest to look up at him, and he reaches down with his protruding lips before he even get there. House chores are always fun together. He takes on the outdoors, sweeping away the dried leaves and hosing down the entire balcony with water. You are vacuuming indoors, separated by only a sliding glass door. Mid way handling those tasks, Namjoon would bother you by knocking on the glass door to gain your attention. He waits for you to come near and place his large palm flat on the glass, for you to place yours. He gets contented by this. And you don’t mind playing along. It’s a form of intimacy. That most people out there don’t understand. Or care to understand. The smile he has on, right after, is always so rewarding.

Intimacy is expensive. It is priceless. It is when he thumbs your lips and pinches your chin so he could kiss you. It is when he trace his index finger on the outline of your face when you're sleeping. It is when he stares into your fluttering shut eyes, love in his heart--something he had trouble comprehending in the past. It is when he lays on his stomach, wondering what you're dreaming of and secretly hoping that it's him.

Motioning closer with his elbows digging the mattress, he presses his lips on the tip of your eyebrows and letting them linger, he prays that you know how much you meant to him. There’s so much meaning, silence could carry. And they are not always bad when you’re together. He could speak endlessly about his theories, his political views, what he thought about the galaxy, but when it comes to you, there are so little words. When words couldn’t compensate his emotions, actions takes place. More holding, more touching, more kissing. More. It baffles him how the feeling is like faith. Love, the only thing in the world science couldn’t explain. It just...exist.

He lived a life without you, and as the days goes by, he often wonder how he managed to go through that phase alone. After that glimmering, goosebump worthy moment of the first kiss you shared, Namjoon never want to go a day without it even if you’re fighting, and not speaking to each other. The little breath you took as if you’ve been waiting for him, the relief felt like the weight lift off his chest.

Kissing, touching, holding you becomes his favorite hobby.

So in love, to even realize the shortcomings you have. In the past, you begged him to leave you because you have brought so much difficulties in his life, your stern self loathe didn't scare him one bit. A full blown argument about this arises so many times than he care to count. Cornered with your own negative thoughts, hounded by the things you don't have rather than what you have. Shuddering in your sentences, and once it gets too much, he throws you over his shoulder and shut the bedroom door behind him. To simply talk. To simply sit you down in the middle of the bed while he knelt at the bed listening to you. Tears would spill mid sentence, the fragile strength is gone at the sight of Namjoon soft gaze. He thumbs your tears away, squeezing your cheeks between his hands till your lips look like a puffer fish, pulling you into a kiss. Action speaks louder than words.

Before parting to do his project, Namjoon always resorts to a sudden roll a few nights before. That involves bothering you while you work, read or in the midst of watching drama, telling you to hurry up because he is impatient and needed you there and then, in breathy voices and sloppily placed kisses. He becomes straightforward with what he wants and the reason behind that hurried lip lock is because he needed to be away in his studio, soon. That was the only way that works which guarantees that he won't be having you sulking because he got too busy. And it always gets super spicier when it has been awhile. Hungrier, wilder, sweatier.

Suddenly, height isn't such a major problem. Not when satisfaction is met. Must be your voice, or your touches, or the way you look at him; it has to be something unrelated to physical proportions because he swore on his ancestors graves that he has everything he needs in you.

In the morning when the parting comes, he made sure to whisper in your ear when he leaves. Peppering kisses down your cheek, jaws, neck and shoulder, then trailing down your arms in a hurry, promising that he won't be long as you moan tiredly in return. He says he'll call, he'll text. With the guarantee that you'll be at the receiving end because there's nothing he hates more than to be away from you and not hearing from you, as frequently as he needed to. It's not an exaggeration to say that his sanity depends on it.

One of his favorite thing to do when you're away, is to remember how he could feel your quickening pulse when his lips pressed on the skin next to your windpipe. It happens to be one of your sweet spot, as lucky as he was to find out about that. It becomes an indicator to you that he wants some time together when he kisses that area. In desperate, pressing moments, he'll add a swipe of his tongue, nibble and bite on them. Guaranteed to send you to an overdrive. He likes the thought of it and frequently imagines it when he can't be with you, due to work. It sends tingles down his spine, flutters on his lips and his brain spinning in a euphoric high that he will claim the moment he sets foot on the doorstep.

That emotional bond is so much stronger than the longest legs of the most gorgeous models on the runway he used to fantasize about. That spiritual linkage is the thing that lingers when you're not around, that keeps him wanting more. When you're not within his grasp, he gets uncomfortable and unspeakably lonely beyond words. That explains why he rushes his work so he could go home to you. To lean his back on the headboard, linking foreheads. To talk about his vulnerability without judgement in your eyes. To share a kiss that begins with a simple caress on one side of the face, to savor the taste of his lips with closed eyes and a small smile that grows long after the kiss ended for him to see just how much power you gave him.

He didn't come home to a girl his own height, didn't come home for a comfortable hug and shoulder-to-shoulder nudge; he comes home to the devotion he couldn't find anywhere else, to the small petite girl he'd give the world to, perhaps even the galaxy--if he could get his hands on them. All the songs are about you. Every words, every wild night, every touch and every tantalizing moment, are for you.

Crumpled sheets, lanky legs and bruised foreheads. Strained neck, shoulders and swollen Achilles tendons. Tummy selfies, and eyes peeping at the corner of the picture frames. Standing on chairs, and tightening jars. Cheek kisses, hand holding, gazing into each others eyes. Perhaps the only way to counter attack a major height difference, is to have major crush on each other. Constantly. Without fail.

copyright © 2019 namjoonchronicles do not repost, did you like it? did you realize that there is no dialogue at all? did you went to check again? that was all your imagination doing the story for you, all i did was spark it. have a great day love, just a nice comment is all i need in return x

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have-each-others-six · 5 years

Text

face to the wind, eyes to the sun (pt. four)

part one

part two

part three

yet again, hello!

there are two more parts and then an epilogue of sorts left, so let’s hold on to our seats, shall we?

also, big credit to @the-quiet-winds for the idea of ‘katherine seymour’. she came up with it in her own fics and i love it so much.

***

three.

When they step outside, everyone’s still pulling on hats and gloves and scarves, so they make a bit of uncoordinated mess as they walk into the sidewalk.

Jane makes sure Katherine’s pink pom-pom hat is snug over her head, and adjusts her scarf a little bit so she’ll be warmer.

“How are you feeling, love?” she asks her, and when she looks at Katherine’s face, she sees that her eyes are red from crying.

It breaks Jane, shatters something deep within the chambers of her heart, to see her baby girl completely hopeless like this.

“I keep seeing them,” Katherine says softly, and Jane doesn’t need to ask who ‘them’ is.

A vicious anger spreads through her, coupled with deep sadness, the combination of emotions that always overwhelms her when Kat talks about her past life.

Whenever she mentions the men that hit her and clawed at her skin and pushed her dress up roughly around her waist, Jane just wants to curl up around Katherine and shield her from everything awful in the world.

Her feisty, sweet, intelligent girl had once been reduced to nothing more than an object to give men pleasure, and in a few short hours she’ll be back with them, forced to look in their eyes as her head is-

Is-

Jane can’t even begin to think about it.

“Let’s just have fun today as best we can, yeah?” she suggests, taking Kat’s gloved hand in her own. “If it’s too much, we’ll just go home and drink some tea and talk. Sound good?”

Katherine nods, and Jane playfully pokes her daughter’s nose, eliciting the ghost of a smile. “That’s my girl.”

“All right, where we headed, then?” Anna shouts over the din of the snowy city street.

“Wherever the winds take us!”

As Anne says that, turning and spreading her arms out wide in a very dramatic fashion, a breeze blows through, whirling the snow in spirals all around them, and Anne grins up at the sky like it’s in on a joke.

“Okay then, the wind says we go this way,” Anne states, turning right as the sidewalk curves.

“Weren’t we going to the park?” Parr asks, but Anne waves off her question.

“This is crazy,” Aragon grumbles. “Anne, you’re going to get us run over.”

Jane feels a strange sort of bitterness in her heart then, and she holds back a response that since they’re already going to die, it doesn’t matter anyway, does it?

She feels Kat squeeze her hand, like she knows that Jane needs something to ground her right now, and she gives her daughter a grateful smile, kissing her forehead as they walk down a road lined with cute little shops.

“Aha! Animal crackers!” Anne shouts, stopping and pointing inside a corner store, where they can see through the window that there are indeed animal crackers by the cash register. “I’m going in.”

“I’ll go with her,” Anna sighs. “She’ll buy the whole store’s supply otherwise.”

“No, you stay, I’ll go,” Parr volunteers. “She’ll probably listen to me.”

Anna nods and doesn’t argue, clearly exhausted, and Parr follows Anne into the shop.

“How about you? I know you wanted to go to the park, so we’ll do that later, but is there anything special you’d like to do today, love?” Jane asks Kat, putting an arm around her daughter as they wait on the bench.

“Actually…” Katherine starts to reply softly, “...do you think we could check out that French pastry shop? We always say we’re going to, but we never do, because you say you don’t know French.”

“Bien sûr, ma chérie,” Jane responds, grinning. “Of course, my darling. See? I know some French!”

“Will you be able to order anything, though?” Katherine questions her, giggling. “Or will you accidentally order a dead rabbit like you did when we went out for German?”

Katherine’s entire face lights up when she laughs, a reprieve from the grief and fear that’s been surrounding her, and Jane feels an overwhelming relief that her girl is smiling again.

“I can’t help the fact that apparently the way I say ‘hamburger’ somehow sounds very similar to ‘hasenpfeffer’,” Jane says, pretending to defend herself but mispronouncing the words on purpose to bring that light back into Kat’s eyes.

“Anna was so offended.”

“I thought she was really going to bash me over the head with her plate for a second when I was trying to read things off the menu.”

“Well, this French bakery is supposedly a bit more low key. I don’t think there’ll be any plate-smashing,” Katherine explains. She looks genuinely happy, and it melts Jane’s heart.

“Who wants to go to a patisserie?” Jane asks the group, standing up and clapping her hands together. “Kat and I are heading over there now, if anybody wants to come with.”

“Eh, we’ll wait here. Once Anne’s done inside we’ll come over and meet you, okay? Just text us the address,” Aragon says, easily laying out the plan.

Kat gives her a thumbs-up as Jane texts Aragon the location, and then they head over to the bakery.

“This feels strange,” Katherine remarks, pulling on her coat sleeves a little nervously.

“How so?” Jane responds, looking at her expression for a clue to her feelings. However, Katherine’s usually easily readable face is blank, so Jane just takes her daughter’s gloved hand in her own, trying to wordlessly give her support.

“We’re going to a pastry shop, and I’m getting beheaded tonight.”

It feels like all the warmth has been stolen from Jane’s body as Katherine speaks, because she remembers that tonight she’s losing everything.

She stops walking, rooted to the spot in abject terror as snow gathers in her hair.

“Mum? Mum, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-” Katherine’s panicking now, or close to it, and that manages to snap Jane out of staring blankly forward, consumed by images of her daughter’s head being chopped off.

“No, no, honey, no. Don’t apologize, sweetheart. I’m fine,” Jane reassures her, pushing Kat’s hair out of her face and ignoring the anxious pounding of her own heart. “Just got a little cold, that’s all.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

Jane gives her a shaky smile. “I don’t think ‘okay’ is achievable today, love.”

A steely look of determination appears on Kat’s face. She’s the sweetest girl in the world, but she knows how to be serious when she needs to be.

“Here’s what we’re going to do, mum,” she says, and Jane would be thrown by the change in tone, but she can see the way that Katherine’s eyes are welling with tears and knows that her daughter’s trying to be strong for her. So she stays quiet, and she listens.

“We’re going to go into this pastry shop, and buy some pastries, and we’re not going to talk about dying. Once we’re out of the shop, we can be as depressing and morbid as we like, but right now I think we both just need to try French desserts and talk about boring things.”

Jane can see the way Katherine’s standing, ready for a fight, like she’s about to punch away the grief surrounding them.

“We can promise, okay?” Jane says, holding up her pinky finger, and Katherine grins in response after linking hers with Jane’s.

“I, Katherine Seymour, solemnly swear not to discuss death in this establishment.”

“I, Jane Seymour, also solemnly swear not to discuss death in this establishment with the addendum of not discussing anything morbid.”

They nod seriously and unlink their fingers, but the second they step apart, Katherine’s anxious anger is back.

“All right, love,” Jane replies, prying apart Kat’s clenched fists and lacing her fingers with her own. She takes a moment to breathe, and then gives Katherine her brightest smile. “Let’s go in.”

Compared to the snowy and grey cold of outside, the pastry shop is warm and bright, and Jane can feel herself relaxing slightly.

There’s a bit of a line, so the two of them get plenty of time to decide what to get for themselves and the other queens.

When they reach the front, the cashier bags up what they want to order, and Katherine takes it to a table while Jane pays. As she puts her credit card in, the cashier starts talking.

“You two are really close for a mother and daughter,” she says, a slight French accent in her voice. “When I was this age, I hated my mother and she hated me. It’s… it’s really nice to see that isn’t always true.”

“Oh, well, that’s lovely of you to say,” Jane replies, sort of unsure how to respond.

“How do you do it? Not fight, I mean.”

“Well…” Jane starts, looking over at Katherine, at a table by the window, sitting on her hands so she won’t eat the pastries without Jane. She feels a soft warmth in her chest, just behind her ribs. “I love her,” she answers simply. “I love her so much that I don’t know what I would do without her. She makes the sun shine brighter and the night feel calmer and when I hear her laugh, it makes me feel like I can brave anything the world can throw at me. I can’t imagine falling into a petty catfight with her about her clothes or cleaning her room, because after loving someone that much, everything else seems to sort of pale in comparison.”

Jane takes a breath, noticing the way her voice is catching with emotion.

“She’s my daughter,” she says softly. “She means the world to me. I couldn’t bear to lose her over something trivial.”

There’s a line behind Jane now, but the cashier’s eyes have filled with tears. “Thank you,” she whispers. “I really… I needed to hear that today.”

Jane smiles, puts back her credit card, and leaves a pound in the tip jar before heading over to her beautiful, smart, brave girl.

“Mum, I swear you can talk to anyone about anything. You were up there for literal years,” Katherine laughs, teasing her. “What were you even talking about?”

“Just about how lucky I am,” Jane says, pulling out a St. Honoré cream pastry and handing it to Kat, licking the extra sugar off of her fingers.

“How do you mean?” Katherine asks, tilting her head and taking a bite of the flaky treat, cream smearing onto her nose as she does so.

Jane wants to cry, but she holds it back, giving her daughter a watery smile. “I mean you, sweetheart.”

“Really?”

Katherine’s eyes are brown and trusting when she looks over at Jane, but there’s the barest hint of disbelief there, like she doesn’t quite believe that this isn’t all a ruse to get something from her, like Jane can’t possibly mean her.

So Jane takes her hand, and she looks into those eyes that show the trauma and hurt deep inside, and she nods.

“Really, truly.”

The last bit of distrust vanishes from Katherine’s gaze, and her smile becomes completely real.

“I’m lucky too, Mum.”

They sit in a comfortable silence, eating their pastries and watching the world go by outside the window, until the other queens show up, waving from the other side of the glass.

They stall in leaving, cleaning up the table and pushing in the chairs, because they know that when they leave the shop, their promise doesn’t apply and anything is fair game, and it’s so nice to live in a bubble for a moment where they don’t have to think about their impending deaths.

“Ready?” Kat says, standing firmly in front of the door.

“Ready.”

They hold onto each other’s hands in a vice grip as they walk through the door, trying to prepare for whatever comes next.

#six #six the musical #sorry for two posts so close together #ugh i love kat and jane #i love them so much #also aimie's leaving tomorrow and i am not ready whatsoever #and MAIYA #and MILLIE #i'm excited for the new cast members and danielle seems amazing but also SADNESS #six the musical fanfic #face to the wind eyes to the sun

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theoreticalmindgames · 5 years

Text

puppies & questions - a klance oneshot

klance buzzfeed puppy interview AU :)

So a @lancemcclain wrote this AU and I just kinda took it and ran so thanks for the cute idea and enjoy!

Keith usually didn’t do filming stuff. He was used to sitting at his desk and editing all day. Meeting with different video groups. Editing some more per their wishes and requests. But Shiro asked him for some help with filming a puppy interview, and even though Keith never really liked it when Shiro asked him favors because there was usually a ‘but’ or a ‘and also’ attached to it later-he wasn’t immune to the charm and adorableness of puppies.

So Keith sat behind the camera on a very comfy stool while Shiro chatted with the human shelter volunteers. A playpen had been set up in the corner, the pee pad all crumpled from the puppies frolicking throughout the pen, trying to say hi to everyone walking by.

“So who’s coming in today?”

Shiro had walked over, now holding a coffee and a bagel from Adam who stopped by during his lunch break at the nearby university.

“Oh, It’s Lance McClain.” He said nonchalantly as if he was not one of the most popular celebrities at the current moment. As if he wasn’t seriously attractive. As if Keith didn’t have a mild crush on said celebrity.

“Oh, okay.” Was all he could manage, as he turned back to the camera and began to fiddle with the settings, only to have Shiro fix it right after him with a quiet huff.

A few minutes later the door opened and a tall woman with her hair drawn back in a large white ponytail glided in, followed by a casual looking Lance McClain. Keith swallowed, and stood up, then sat back down because was he supposed to say hi? Or just sit there?

Shiro walked up and gave him a handshake, Lance McClain smiling back with an impossibly bright smile with impossibly straight teeth. They exchanged words but Keith was too busy staring at the way his bomber jacket stretched across his shoulder. But then Shiro was walking towards him gesturing and talking and then Keith was looking Lance McClain in the eye probably looking like a doe-eyed idiot.

“Hi, I’m Lance,” He said, extending a hand which Keith took. It was strange hearing him say his own name. Like they could have been meeting at a coffee shop.

Keith’s vision came out of tunnel mode when he heard Shiro.

“-eah so Keith is gonna be doing most of the interview stuff, and I’m just here to make sure no one dies.”

“What?” Keith looked at Shiro, who gave him a grin. A grin that said “have fun with this really attractive celebrity play with puppies while you get to sit there and watch.”

Lance laughed at Shiro’s comment. “I am very ready to cuddle every puppy in this place so let’s bring it on.” He flashed that perfect smile again, and Keith noticed a dimple form in the left corner of his lips.

Keith resituated himself behind the camera and turned on the camera. “Um, you can just sit on the green ex on the ground.” Keith pointed, and Lance smiled at him, lingering, before going to sit. The volunteers brought over the puppies and Lance’s grin grew as they attacked him in a playful herd.

One immediately went for the jar of questions and began to eat the small slips of paper.

“Oh geez,” Lance giggled, pulling the puppy away, and Keith swore his heart imploded from the sound of Lance giggling.

“Okay-” Keith cleared his throat, as a very fluffy puppy settled itself in Lance's criss-crossed legs and fell asleep. “So um, just choose questions from the jar- oh gosh-”

The same culprit had found his way back to the jar and was batting it around.

Lance laughed again, scooping up the puppy in his arms. “Maybe this will work better if you ask the questions. I think I’d like that better. Interviewing myself is kinda weird anyway.”

Keith blinked at him, before getting up and crouching to grab the jar, which was slightly wet from slobber. “Uh, yeah, that works. Yeah.”

“Sweet.” Lance smiled at his quick before his attention was taken by two puppies starting up a tussle on his legs.

“Okay, so the first question-”

“Wait, I- Sorry, I can’t see you behind that huge camera.” Lance chuckled, peering to the side, the two fighting puppies now hoisted under his armpits.

He wanted to see Keith? As in look at him? Oh god he just realized that he was literally wearing joggers and a t-shirt from his dirty laundry bin. Okay, no time to panic now just do the damn interview and this will all be finished soon. So Keith scooted the stool to the side, the jar of questions sitting in his lap, and his shoulders hunched.

“Much better.” Lance nodded in approval, a smirk threatening to appear.

Keith nodded back, trying to not look Lance in the eye because wow they were really nice and blue. “Okay, first question. If you could go back in time and play any role in any movie, who would you play.”

Lance gave one of the puppies a quick kiss on the head before answering. “Okay, this is easy- definitely Jack from Titanic.”

Keith hated that he smiled. “Okay, next-who has been one of your favorite costars to work with?”

Lance pondered for a moment, drumming his fingers on one of the puppies’ back, while another knawed on his wrist. “Probably Gina Rodriguez- she is just super fun and lighthearted and we have the same like, goofy sense of humor which was super cool.”

Keith nodded, listening intently because here he was, just chatting with Lance McClain.

“So you’ve been in a mix of lighthearted and serious films- which genre do you prefer to act in?”

Lance looked at Keith as he asked him the question, before scooping up a runaway pup, and holding her close. “Um, well the comedies I’ve been in are always super fun and I think that’s the most like, enjoyable? But I also like the chance to kind of switch roles and play some more serious parts- and it’s the serious movies that get to tell deeper and more personal stories, which I really like as well. So both.” He smiled like he had broken the rules and Keith found in unfairly cute. “Are you a comedy movie kinda person?”

Keith almost missed the question that was fired back at him because- well this wasn’t how it was supposed to go, right? He figured it wouldn't hurt to answer it real quick though. He didn’t want to be rude or anything.

“Um, not really? I mean I like some comedy shows but not really movies.”

“Nice,” Lance nodded, holding a puppy up to his face and letting it lick his nose.

Keith continued with the questions, and almost every time, Lance would ask him one in return. And it wasn’t like- it wasn’t like he was just doing it to maintain some kind of image. He seemed genuinely interested, which is what threw Keith off the most.

“Ghosts are not real,” Keith scoffed. The jar of questions had been finished and they had just been going back and forth for the past ten minutes asking each other things. Their conversation flowed easily and Keith felt like he could talk to Lance for hours without getting tired.

“Um, ghosts are too real and I’ve seen one.” Lance puffed his chest out, holding a puppy protectively like Keith had offended the dog as well.

“You’ve seen a ghost?”

“Yes! At my grandmother's house. Her house is like a million years olf so it had like a hundred ghosts in it.”

Keith snickered at his exaggerations and covered his mouth when a tiny snort escaped. “Oh my god.” He breathed.

Lance laughed loudly, his body tipping from front to back with laughter. “You-you have a cute laugh.” He said as his giggles calmed down.

Keith shook his head, feeling his cheeks get warm. “Anyone who snorts does not have a cute laugh.” But all Keith could hear in his head was cute cute cute cute cute he called me cute.

“Well I like your laugh,” Lance said quietly, looking at Keith through his lashes like some kind of- well some kind heartthrob movie star.

The sound of clicking heels interrupted the moment as Lance’s manager walked over with Shiro.

“Alright Lance, we’ve got to head out soon if we’re gonna make it to your next interview.”

Lance pouted, his lip jutting out as he gave each of the puppies a kiss and a hug before letting the volunteers take them away.

Keith turned off the camera, glaring at Shiro's shit-eating grin as he took over packing up the camera gear. Lance stood up and straightened out his clothes and walked up to Keith who was lingering near the set.

“Thanks for the interview, it was really fun.” Lance smiled warmly, stepping close to Keith. He could smell his cologne, fresh and beachy.

“Yeah, it was - it was nice.” Keith smiled, shoving his hands in his pocket.

“Um, I was wondering- well I don’t know um-”

Lance fidgeted with his hands, and Keith smiled at the nervous boy in front of him.

“Yeah?” Keith urged him on.

“Um, well I wanted to exchange numbers and see if we could hang out. Sometime. Whenever.”

Keith let out a breath, and he was pretty sure Lance could hear it, but he didn’t care as he slipped his phone from his pocket- unlocking it and handing it to Lance.

“I like your lockscreen,” Lance said as he handed Keith his phone back. “I like space too.”

“Yeah, yeah it’s cool.” Keith bit his lip, peeking down at his galaxy background, still having a hard time believing that Lance had just put his phone number in his phone.

“So, text me and we’ll grab coffee or lunch or something.” Lance looked at him with those bright eyes and that bright smile and Keith, for a moment was convinced that this wasn’t a real thing. But then Lance was coming in a for a hug and Keith leaned in with a little more force then he meant. But Lance delivered with a similar enthusiasm and his hands spanned across his back, and Keith got an even better whiff of whatever kind of scent Lance was wearing and it was so clean and calming Keith felt like he could fall asleep right here.

When they pulled away, Lance’s cheeks were pink and Keith was pretty sure his were as well.

“I’ll text you,” Keith said.

Lance's face broke open into a grin. “Okay. Okay cool.”

Keith clutched his phone to his chest and let out a sigh, just to make sure he was still breathing.

Lance texted like a maniac and Keith kinda loved it.

OH MY GOSH KEITH

I just saw the ugliest bigfoot statue

It kinda looked like you

Just kiddingggg

But you would have loved it

Keith snickered as his Mac pinged with every text.

Lance i’m trying to work here

I know which is why I’m giving you a much deserved break

But if i’m bothering you i can scooch outta here

You’re fine Lance

Thank you for the entertainment

Okay sweet :))))))

They got coffee at a place tucked away in the city, and only two people came up to ask for a picture. They talked for three hours, both ordering seconds, and then thirds of their respective drinks. Lance, a medium latte with vanilla and cinnamon. Keith, a London Fog. With every new topic they discussed, every giggle Lance let out, Keith liked him even more. He saw how human and how real and raw Lance was. He made Keith feel comfortable and welcome and valued. He would listen and respond with intent and it made Keith feel things that he wasn’t sure what they were.

At the end of their coffee date- “Can I call it a date?” Lance had asked and Keith had said yes- they walked out of the building and Lance whisked Keith into a nearby alcove to kiss him gently. It was so soft and delicate that Keith was pretty sure he was gonna melt on the spot and disappear into the drain. But he let himself indulge and wrapped his arms around Lance’s back, while long brown fingers cradled his jaw.

When they pulled away Keith was breathing heavy, despite the lack of tongue. Oh god, did he want to know what that felt like.

“I’ll text you.” Lance said, pressing a last quick kiss to Keith’s cheek before getting into the black SUV across the street.

Five seconds later his phone buzzed.

U are very cute and i wanna kiss you a lot now so when can i see you next ?

Keith rolled his eyes and bit his rising grin as he opened up his calendar app.

the end :)

#klance fic #jay's fics #klance #klance oneshot #klance au #klance buzzfeed au #puppies & questions #buzzfeed au #celebrity lance #camera man keith

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bluesfortheredj · 5 years

Text

Plus One.

The older you got the more save the date cards seemed to appear on your doormat, and none of them were any easier to read than the last with the elaborate scrawls of what you assume to be your name on each one. This one was a little different to the rest though and it was your sister getting married this time, so of course you’d already saved the date anyway. You were to be maid of honour of course and although this had been put in place a long while ago, seeing the card with the date that was surprisingly closer than you thought on it was jarring.

The two words that struck fear into you more than any of the others were ‘plus one’ and you still had no clue who to take with you. Your ex had already confirmed he was going with his new squeeze, and you sure as hell weren’t going to let him have the satisfaction of you turning up on your own. There was one person who you could possibly ask but it was a stupid idea and you’d put the thought firmly to the back of your mind after much deliberation with yourself.

“Come on, (Y/N), you must have a date sorted by now. It’s only a few weeks away!” your sister groans as you meet up for one of her last wedding dress fittings.

“Well it’s not my fault I haven’t got them queueing down the street for me is it?” you sigh.

“What about Taron?”

“What about him?”

“You said he could be a viable option for a plus one… Have you asked him?”

“No! I talked myself out of that one pretty quickly.”

“Why?! He’s easy on the eye, what more do you need to show off to you know who?”

“This isn’t all about him you know.”

“I know! I just want you to be happy, and I think that Taron would be ideal. Call him now,” she insists, bringing your phone out of your pocket.

“Hey! What the hell?”

“Do it,” she says sternly as she dials his number then hands you the phone.

“Fuck’s sake- Taron! Hi...”

Your sister pokes her tongue out at you as she stands there fussing with the train of her dress in front of the mirror, then you slope off out of the changing room for a little more privacy.

“Listen, I have a really massive favour to ask you but please don’t feel any pressure to say yes to it...”

“I’m intrigued, do go on!”

“So it’s my sister’s wedding in a few weeks and I was wondering if you’d like to come with me?”

“As your date?”

“You don’t need to call it that. A plus one, if you will.”

“Of course I’ll be your date,” he replies, ignoring your comment to illicit some sort of annoyed reaction from you.

“Okay, well thanks for agreeing to be my plus one,” you emphasise, “I’ll message you the details and all that jazz. Wear something pretty, yeah?”

“You know me, (Y/N), always a pretty boy,” he chuckles.

“And on that note, I’m off. Thank you though, honestly.”

“Any time, date.”

You hang up pretty quickly after his comment and find yourself blushing at the interaction you’d had. Your sister soon appears with a knowing grin and she gives your arm a playful nudge as she passes.

“Glad he said yes!” she calls back.

The wedding ceremony itself was surprisingly beautiful and all thoughts of Taron appearing at the reception had been wiped from your memory as you sat at the front of the church watching the person you were closest to marry the love of their life. Soon enough though, the reality of Taron turning up hit you like a brick wall on the way to the reception and you started panicking about running into your ex before he got here. As soon as you arrive at the isolated country house for the dinner and dance you spot him waiting outside, and suddenly your nerves dissipate as you step out of the vehicle.

“Fancy meeting you here,” you smirk as you walk up to him. He does a double take as he realises it really is you in a floor length red strapless maxi dress with matching lipstick and his mouth opens but goes a couple of seconds without any sound emanating from it.

“(Y/N)?” is all he can manage at first and you laugh.

“The one and only!”

“Sorry. Of course. I wasn’t expecting-”

“Shall we just go and get a drink? I’m parched,” you smile as you loop your arm through his and walk inside. He nods as you lead him through the grand double doors to the bar, then into the huge hall where the wedding breakfast would take place. The wedding planner soon ushers everyone in to take their seats and Taron sits proudly next to you with almost his whole body facing you instead of the table. The speeches are kept short and sweet, just how your sister wanted them, and dinner disappears quickly now that all the pent up nerves had fizzled out after the ceremony.

“That meal was amazing,” Taron comments as he takes your hand when you leave the hall to prepare for the proper party to start.

“I think I’m too full up to dance,” you giggle.

“No such thing,” Taron grins as you both stop outside where the DJ had already started to play some retro wedding tunes. There’s a lingering look between the both of you as you study each other’s faces trying to figure out what each of you were thinking, then your brow furrows as you realise you haven’t thanked him for coming.

“Shit, I forgot to say thank you. Taron, honestly, thank you so much for coming today, it really was cheeky of me.”

“Oh, don’t be silly,” he scoffs, “it’s nothing! I’m really enjoying myself actually. So thank you for inviting me.”

He pulls you into the room where the music is thumping and spots your ex before you do, so takes the opportunity to spin you around on the dance floor and face you in the other direction. His hands take yours as you sway from side to side to the familiar 90s pop song then the DJ ruins the moment and transitions messily into a slow song.

“That was not the smoothest,” Taron laughs as you give each other a grimace at the change in pace. He pulls you close as his hands glide around your waist to hold you against him while your swaying slows and your arms wrap around his shoulders as you lean your face close to his. You feel one of his hands move down slightly to the top of the curve of your backside and after eyeing him since getting out of the car, you were in no position to stop him. His strong body filled the suit he was wearing perfectly, and the small glimpses of skin you caught when his shirt strained against his muscles had certainly held your attention more than anything else going on around you.

“(Y/N)?” Taron asks as the music fades into yet another love song.

“Yeah?” you ask as you lift your head from his shoulder to look at him.

“You look absolutely beautiful,” he whispers as his voice gives way to nerves, then he starts to sing along to the song that begins playing, “I’ve never seen you looking so lovely as you did tonight, I’ve never seen you shine so bright...”

You throw your head back as you start laughing uncontrollably, then join in on the chorus as you press your cheek against his.

“The lady in red is dancing with me, cheek to cheek!” you both giggle. The laughter soon turns to a realisation for the both of you as you pull away to see each other properly, and Taron takes your hand and leads you out of the room, grabbing two flutes of champagne on the way out and handing you one when you’re making your way upstairs. You both walk quickly down one of the long corridors as Taron tries every door handle he possibly can and when he finds one that opens up into a bedroom with a single bed, he drags you inside and secures the door behind you both with an old key that was conveniently left in the lock. The champagne is drained from the glasses that are then placed gently down on a dresser and one last look shared between you both signifies your mutual feelings before your lips come crashing together in a teeth clashing kiss. His hands roam your body without any plan of where they are going and yours head straight for his crotch where you feel just how hard he is already.

“Taron!” you gasp through the kiss as the outline of his erection fills your hand.

“Look at you!” he mumbles against your lips.

You leave his lips to trail kisses down his neck then drop to your knees and free him within seconds to wrap your lips around his length. He watches your bright red lips take him almost all the way and he hisses as your cheeks hollow out when you suck as hard as you can on him.

“Fuck,” he groans as one of his hands weaves its way through your hair to keep you in place and guide you that little bit deeper, “oh shit.”

You hum around him to send vibrations throughout his body and he bucks his hips into your mouth at the sensation while one of your hands cups his balls and gives them a gentle squeeze every few seconds.

“Stopstopstop,” he says just before he spurts down your throat, “I can’t, I’m not going to last.”

“Then let go,” you say as you briefly take him out of your mouth before taking him once again as far as you can without gagging. He fucks your mouth with a raw enthusiasm as he continues to look down at you on your knees in front of him and with a couple more massages of him and some long sucks he spills his warm arousal into your mouth, and you swallow every drop of it. He pulls you up by your wrists and studies your smudged lipstick carefully before kissing you hungrily then pushing you down onto the bed roughly.

“So that’s how it’s going to be?” he questions as he raises an eyebrow at you.

The next thing you see is soft red fabric floating its way down towards your face after he throws the bottom of your dress up out of his way and shuffles your underwear down your legs. You manage to get the fabric out of your view just as Taron pushes your knees apart as far as they can do then shoots you a wink before disappearing between your thighs and licking his way up your centre.

“Oh!” you cry out involuntarily as he leaves a trail of dampness along your sensitive folds. The tip of his tongue pushes deep into every crevice then he attaches himself to your clit where he sucks and nips roughly to give you a taste of what he went through with you. He was hoping this was going to be slow and loving, but after your skilful mouth made him ejaculate a little earlier than planned, he was determined to get you back and make you come undone as quickly as possible.

“Shit, Taron, that’s too much,” you whine as you move your hips up and down, his nose coming into view with every down movement, then disappearing again.

“Is it?” he questions, then flicks his tongue over the oversensitive button which creates a jolt of pleasure throughout your whole body.

“Fuck!” you pant.

Licks come thick and fast, then his tongue dives inside of you in an unexpected move and you gasp loudly as his thumb takes over circling your clit. His eyes meet yours once more after his tongue has pumped in and out of you a few times and he returns to your sweet spot with a renewed enthusiasm while he watches your face as you try and hold out as long as you can.

“Taron...” you whine unashamedly.

He smiles then sticks his tongue out as he dives right back in again and makes kissing noises as he sucks at you. It doesn’t take long for your knot to release itself with a leg quivering orgasm and your upper body lifts off of the bed as you ride it out on his mouth. When he’s got everything from you that he can, he flops down next to you with his trousers still in disarray around his knees and lets out a long sigh. You turn to him and start to giggle at the sight of his swollen lips.

“Your lips are as red as mine,” you tease.

Hi, can I request a fic where reader's sister is getting married and she needs a date to the wedding to avoid an ex and asks Taron to take her and things end up going a lot further than just a friend helping out another friend? Drinking, dancing, laughing, all ending up in some smut?

@egerton-sweetie @lizziespidiepridie @original-criminal-fanfics @anantheminmyheart22 @oheggsyno @tiffleen @marvelmakeuplover @welcometotheg0odlife @istandandan @leanimal90 @5-seconds-of-sarcasmm @baileythepenguin @hartirl @manners-maketh-taron @dragonluver9393 @xsinfulltrashx @jenloveshaydenchristensen @mmdarko @winsky1989 @venomhazcoffeewithpeterman @bohemianrhapsody86 @theworldisugly-22 @lilspacepandaboy @ediblemurderer @sprinkleofhiddles @wrrkamrrvelka @deetle625 @excellentbecca @a-goddessofmischief @tvwhoresblog @taronxfiction @queenof-wakanda @wheresmylightinthedark

#taron egerton #taron egerton imagine #taron egerton x reader #taron egerton fanfiction #taron smut #smutty wednesday

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