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userholland · 3 years

Text

all for her [3]

pairing: dad!bartender!tom x female!reader

warnings: cursing, lots of angst

summary: a single-dad bartender, a supportive best friend and their continuous, unrequited love noticed by his optimistic daughter. is it possible to break a heart they never knew they had?

word count: 8.7k!

a/n: another month has passed but! finally here’s part 3!!! sorry for the delay but i was caught in between this rut & midterms so it took a while for any big ideas to spark. but i’m so happy that so many of y’all have enjoyed this story. i want to say again that this is my favorite fic series i’ve ever written so thank you so so much for appreciating it! i may end with 5 parts, but i won’t leave y’all hanging!

— masterlist ☆彡

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜

A week had passed since the gruesome bar fight and Tom was still left with a dark bruise surrounding his right eye along with another on the side of his chin and the start of his jaw. Luckily, there were no broken bones or dislocated limbs, but it was made known that he had a concussion after you forced him to go to the emergency room and get properly looked at by a doctor. As stubborn as he was, Tom tried listening to the careful instructions given for the follow-up appointments that would come, but everything went in one ear and out the other.

“We want to make sure each part of the brain that was impacted is still intact, so we want you to see this specialist and they’ll run a few cognitive tests to make sure everything is okay.” The doctor explained in simple terms as he scribbled the information on his prescription pad and ripped it off.

You nodded, taking the paper from him, “How much is all this?”

“It’s not too costly, but insurance should cover most of it.” He reassured, glancing at you before looking back at Tom’s chart, “I recommend a lot of rest and time away from work for at least two to three days.”

Tom quickly looked over, “I can’t take off work right now. I really can’t afford to do that right now.”

“Mr. Holland, we want to make sure that there’s no way you could injure yourself even more than now. You need to take a few rest days in order to relax and stay away from anything strenuous.”

“I’m a bartender, I think I can-”

“Tom... relax, please.” You retorted at him, your jaw slightly clenched.

Tom stared out the window with his side against the wall, feeling like he was miles away even though he was just across the room. You peered over at him a few times throughout the appointment, but you knew he didn’t want to be here. One of the strings of his black hoodie curled around his pointer finger, pulling on the coil before letting it spring back, repeating it a few times as the doctor continued informing to you.

He’d been fixated on the results of the DNA test. It was rooted in his mind from how many times he read over it, convincing himself it wasn’t true and it was a huge mistake. Doubt consumed his thoughts, wondering how he could have been so stupid to fall for the entire ruse even though Tom never regretted one moment of raising Summer. He loved her so much and would do anything to have her back, but finding out the truth made it harder for him to figure out if he should still be fighting for her.

Throughout the nights, he tossed and turned enough to wake you up, feeling his pull on the sheets. Sometimes you’d hold him from behind, curling your arms and locking them to make him feel safe. You pressed your cheek against his back, the eerily sound of his heartbeat against your ear as it quickly thudded. His thumb brushed over the top of your hand, remembering that you were still there, but when he closed his eyes, every thought crawled its way back in and cluttered his mind enough to make him want to burst into an angry fit.

After a few minutes, the doctor left you two to gather your things. Tom ran his hand over his hair as he started to walk to the door, but you blocked him from taking another step. With your arms crossed in front of your chest and your eyebrows furrowed, Tom knew that look was never good.

“Talk to me… C’mon, what’s going on? What’s on your mind?” You softly asked, still looking into his eyes.

Tom ran his hands down his face, a light groan leaving his lips from the frustration slowly building inside his entire body.

“I don’t want to talk about it now, Y/N. Please. I’m fucking embarrassed enough.” He huffed.

“Then when are you gonna talk about it?” You retorted, your eyebrows furrowed from concern, “You can’t keep the weight of the world on your shoulders forever.”

He shrugged, “I’m not Summer’s dad. That’s it! It was all fucking nothing. It doesn’t matter-”

“It’s always mattered, Tom!” You whisper-shouted, not wanting to make a scene with everyone passing by even though the door was closed, “What Maggie did to you was fucked up, but you raised that girl to be who she is now and that’s what matters.”

Tom gulped, his tired eyes beginning to water as he kept eye contact with you. His bottom lip quivered, but he quickly wiped his tears with his hoodie sleeve. The dryness in his throat hurt and even closing his bruised eye was painful to do, making him curse under his breath every time. He clenched his jaw tight as he rubbed the back of his neck, but you placed your hands on each side of his delicate face.

It was hard to see him in this state where nothing mattered to him and there was a greyness that clouded over the great and wonderful person he truly was. It wasn’t the Tom you grew up with, not even close, so to see this side of him for the first time astonished you, and you weren’t sure what else it would take to see his old self other than getting Summer back.

He ran his hand over his soft curls, “Can we just go home?”

“Yeah, but remember we have a call with a lawyer tomorrow morning. He thinks you could get a good settlement deal since the guy who beat you up had prior arrests.” You reminded him, pecking his cheek then rubbing your thumb over the bruised skin under his eye.

Tom nodded, “You know we can’t afford this guy.”

“We’ll make it work.” You said, wrapping your arms around his waist with his around your neck.

He licked his lips, “Y/N, I’m not gonna make you pay for it.”

“Who said you were making me? I know you want her back as much as I do.” You sniffled, gently holding his face so he could look into your sincere eyes and saw the way they gleamed.

Neither of you wanted to surrender and it never crossed your minds to give up on Summer, but it was getting harder when you felt like Tom was a ticking time bomb and it could only take Maggie’s choice of words to pick at the one nerve no one else could reach to make him completely snap.

Your noses brushed together with your foreheads lightly pressed, both of you reminding yourselves that you had one another. Tom placed his hand on your cheek before leaning in, feeling how soft and light your lips were against his and tasting your minty chapstick. As your eyes tightly closed, you shared a slow kiss with your arms still loosely wrapped around his neck. It was a blissful kiss, one you hadn’t shared in a while, but it was comforting in moments like this where you were terrified of what was to come.

When Tom pulled away, he planted a faint kiss on the center of your forehead, “I love you so much.”

“I love you so much more.” You mumbled as you looked into his beautiful, russet eyes, “C’mon. Let’s go home and put some ice on that eye again, maybe take a nap after.” You hinted.

He half-smiled, “That sounds nice.”

You quickly furrowed your eyebrows, pouted your bottom lip, “Hmm, and maybe take a shower, you look like hell.” You joked, raking your fingers through the front of his messy curls to the crown of his head.

Tom rolled his eyes and smirked, “You know you used to be nicer to me, like when we were kids.”

“Well that’s before I fell for you, I can’t get too soft… plus, I think it balances your ego.” You smiled, pressing your lips against his while the two of you giggled within another kiss.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜

Later that afternoon, you and Tom were napping on the couch with the TV on low volume. The birds chirped by the window and traffic was below the terrace, the sudden honks echoing between the buildings. You were laying between Tom’s legs, the fluffy blanket over your whole body. With your arms loose around Tom’s torso, you slumbered with your head comfortably against his chest. Tom wanted to go some sleep, blinking his dry eyes every few seconds to keep himself awake, trying to distract himself with his phone.

Light snores left your lips, your face hiding in his neck as you unconsciously curled up more. Tom stretched his neck a bit, making sure you were okay before running his hand over your hair. If he could lose Summer, Tom worried that you could slip away just as easily. He never realized how protective he was, hoping it wouldn’t push you away from his own faults and insecurities; he didn’t want to be left alone.

Tom kissed the top of your hair, nuzzling his face against the top of your head. Throughout this, you were his rock, an anchor to hold him down when things got to be too much and he couldn’t believe how supportive you were with how confused he was. You held him when he cried and you listened to him when he needed to vent. It was things you’d done before, but you both felt emotionally closer like another wall had fallen and there was nothing you couldn’t tell each other.

He slowly raked his fingers through the crown of your head to the end of your back, over and over as you peacefully napped before his phone vibrated against the coffee table. You stirred in your sleep, turning your head away and loosely wrapping your arm under Tom’s neck. As his vision cleared from his sleepy daze, Tom furrowed his eyebrows at the contact name.

“Hey, baby, I have to take this,” Tom said in a low tone, not wanting to completely wake you up.

You nodded, your eyes still closed, but Tom slowly got on his feet. After he placed the blanket over you, Tom went out to his bedroom so you could have some quiet.

“Hey, dad.” He answered.

“Hey, Tommy.”

His father always had the same monotone voice, like a poker face that he had to figure out since he was born.

“What’s going on? Is Sheryl okay?” Tom replied, sitting down on the bed.

Ever since his dad got remarried a few years ago, Tom and his father’s relationship slowly parted over time. With work, school, and a kid, Tom didn’t have time to take the backhanded compliments and concerned parenting skills that his new stepmom persistently gave to him on any family occasion. They used to have dinners together every Saturday night when Tom could get away from the city and school, but each one got worse. The last straw was around this time last year, it was Thanksgiving dinner and the blowout was something Tom tried to forget every other week. He couldn’t even bring it all up to you which was hard to keep since it’s been biting at his nerves for the last year.

As Summer got older, Tom didn’t want her to think she was “some kind of mistake” as Sheryl would put it. So for the sake of her, he told himself that his family wasn’t going to cost his daughter’s happiness and he never returned a call back until now. She asked about her grandparents around birthdays or holidays throughout the year, but it was getting harder for Tom to avoid the question when she wouldn’t give up sometimes.

Even though Tom’s mom was usually out of the country, she made sure to send presents, pictures and call every other weekend to make sure he and Summer were okay, but Tom would never admit to her if something was wrong. His mom was never there, not for him growing up and rarely now, but he knew she was trying to make up for it holiday after holiday.

“Uh, she’s well. We’re fine. I just wanted to call you and ask what’s going on… How’s Summer?” His dad genuinely asked.

Tom chuckled, “Why do you ask?”

His father hesitated for a second with his answer, “I haven’t heard from you in a while. Your mom called me and said that she hadn’t heard from you either. So, we’re just worried about you…”

“Yeah… yeah.” Tom raised his eyebrows as he rolled his eyes.

He heard his father sigh, “I know things weren’t the best the last time I saw you-”

“Some woman I barely know tells me that I can’t raise my daughter? That she was a mistake? No, dad. I should be visiting even more after that.” Tom retorted, grinning to mask how the anger was building up inside him slowly but surely.

“She’s your stepmom.”

“Not to me.”

Tom’s dad didn’t fight back his bitter attitude, “Tom, I just want to talk to you. It’s just you and me.”

“Dad, I’m really… not in the mood.”

“Let’s get lunch… or dinner, maybe? Just the two of us.” His dad suggested, almost pleading.

There was silence between the conversation as Tom thought for a few seconds. As damaged as his bond was with his dad, he didn’t want to push him away. It would be what Maggie was doing to him, and to feel the separation from a child hurt like hell.

Tom sniffled, “Fine, yeah. Sure.”

“Great. Well, what about dinner tonight? Where do you want to meet?”

“Um, we can meet at the bar I work at… before my shift starts. Six o’clock.” Tom trailed, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Okay, I’ll see you then.”

Tom quickly hung up before he could burst into tears. In the back of his mind, he thought there was an ultimatum behind the real reason he wanted to talk, not thinking it was just some catching up. But, the stress of the past month had made Tom into a walking mess. Maybe this would bring back some old times, like when he was a kid in a baseball cap and his dad brought him to baseball games and carnivals when his mom was on business trips.

“Fucking Christ,” Tom said under his breath, running his hands through his hair. He blinked away the tears at the waterlines of his tired eyes, wiping them with his t-shirt before getting up.

It was still hard to pass Summer’s room and see it still untouched and empty. Tom kept it neat and clean, hoping it motivated his hope to have her back home. Sometimes he’d sit on her bed and think about the little life the three of you had together. She probably missed her stuffed animals she had tea parties with or the t-shirts she couldn’t fit in her bag. Maggie refused to let him over anymore, not after the last time they saw each other and how frustrated he got. It was hard to think that Tom was holding out for nothing, and Summer could never be in his life again.

He leaned against the doorframe, staring at the bunny sitting on her bed. It was the bunny you and Tom spent hours looking for sometimes, one day realizing that Summer started to do it on purpose. She would hide it in the last place you could think of and it became a race of who could find Mr. Fluffycakes first. She finally admitted one day that she thought it was a game that you and Tom liked to play, so she would try to find the perfect place to almost camouflage the soft, grey bunny.

Tom held it in his hands, bring it up to his face, and smelling the familiar, lavender-vanilla detergent. He sighed, glaring at the small paintings taped with scotch tape to her wall by the dollhouse in the corner of her room. It was Summer’s favorite Christmas present she had ever gotten, Tom’s mom hoping she’d like it after getting it from London. She traveled a lot, always sending things in the mail to Summer, but rarely making appearances with how much she did work. Tom hoped that would change from when he was a kid, but now he understood how his parents ended up separating.

“You okay, babe?” You grinned, leaning on the doorframe and glaring at Tom sat on Summer’s book nook.

“Yeah, just miss her.” He half-smiled, biting his bottom lip after and tossing her bunny on the bed.

You walked over, sitting next to Tom and wrapping your arm around his shoulder before kissing his temple trailing to the apple of his cheek then lightly pressing your nose against his cheek.

“I bet she misses you a lot too.” You replied. “Have you heard from Maggie? Any chance of… seeing her? Maybe a short visit.” You asked, pulling your head away to turn to him.

He nodded, “We haven’t talked. I don’t want Summer to see me like this anyways.” Tom said low, lightly touching his bruised eye.

“C’mon, you look noble and tough. She’ll think you’re more of a hero than you already are.” You joked, trying to get a smile out of him.

“Hmm, I wish I felt like that.” Tom sighed.

Trying to figure out the gears working in Tom’s head was always a mystery. You watched his brown eyes shift back and forth as he was leaned over, his elbows against the top of his knees. Another long sigh passed his lips and you could tell something else was really bothering him, not needing him to say it.

“What’s wrong, baby? C’mon, you have that furrow in your brow.” You tilted your head.

He bit the inside of his cheek, his pride fighting his urge to just open his mouth, but he had a soft spot for you like no one else could. The instant Tom looked into your eyes, he felt the comfort he knew he needed.

“My dad called me, just now.”

“Oh… Is that good or bad?” You asked.

He cracked his knuckles, shrugging, “Both, kind of...”

You didn’t know much about Tom and his dad’s relationship other than Tom hating his stepmom, in light terms than he used. But, he wanted Summer to keep in contact with them for as long as he could. So many years had passed since you last saw his dad, so it didn’t feel right to butt in when you knew the bare minimum, but last Thanksgiving was unforgivable in Tom’s book so you stood by his side on what he felt.

“We’re gonna meet for dinner tonight… at the bar. I want to take a shift tonight.” Tom added.

You sighed, “Tom, you can’t work. We have to go to the doctor soon.”

“Just tonight. I promise. I… I need to do something with myself.” He groaned as he ran his fingers through his hair, rubbing the top of his head before looking back into your eyes.

“Okay… I understand. But, just tonight.” You agreed and rubbed his arm, pressing your cheek against his shoulder.

Tom sat up, straightening his back and you pulled your face away from his shoulder to look him in the eye. Your faces were close together, a few inches away before he asked, “Can you come with me? ‘Cause, I don’t think I can do it alone.” He admitted then bit the inside of his cheek.

You tried to hide your smile, happy that he was opening up a bit at a time.

“Of course, babe. I’ll go with you for however long you need me.” You said as you trailed your hand to his, intertwining your fingers together and giving him a quick squeeze. Tom’s smile slowly painted on his tired face, bringing the top of your hand to his lips.

“Thank you. Really, thank you. You don’t know how grateful I am for you.”

“Well, I have all day.” You jeered and it made him smile again, wrapping his arms around you to scatter kisses on your cheek and neck.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜

The bar wasn’t busy during the late afternoon, before the fleet of college students and single women came through for the nightlife. But it was a relaxed spot when the sun was still out. A few husky men sat at the bar, eating chips and drinking pints to watch the various games on the flat screens or truckers stopping by for a nice meal and taking a smoke outside. It wasn’t the most formal place to meet up, but Tom had work in two hours so it was more convenient than worrisome to impress his dad.

You and Tom sat at a table for four, sitting next to one another and your arm linked around his. He was dressed in his work attire which was a dark-blue button-down paired with a white t-shirt with his name tag on the right side of his chest, solid black jeans that were a bit baggy on him, and his raggedy converse with the laces looped around the ankle once. He kept checking his watch every few minutes while he tapped his right foot against the floor and it began to make you a bit antsy.

“Baby, you need to relax.” You reminded him, lightly pressing your hand down on his thigh.

“I am. I’m just mentally preparing for what he’s gonna say to me.” He sighed as he sat up in his chair.

“Like what?”

“Oh, you really want me to go through the entire list?” Tom sarcastically joked, a half-smile on his lips.

You humored him with a giggle, but nodded your head, “You’re overthinking it. It’ll be okay and I’m right here next to you.”

Tom leaned in, giving you a light kiss that made your stomach fill with butterflies. You never knew how tender he could be when he didn’t seem like the kind of guy who enjoyed PDA. But, he became putty when he was around you by this point that it was hard not to want to kiss you when you comforted him.

He quickly looked down at his watch again, “He’s almost an hour late. He probably bailed.”

“Don’t say that. He’s gonna come, maybe, he’s just in weekend traffic.” You tried to keep his head up.

Tom rubbed the back of his neck, but he couldn’t help but slowly feeling the creeping feeling of abandonment on his shoulders. He wanted to give his dad a chance, he really did, but this was reminding him of how he was never the most reliable. It twisted Tom’s trust issues in every person he met and having to be forced to sit there, wondering and waiting, was eating Tom alive.

Another half-hour passed and Tom decided to clock in early. He didn’t feel like having to sit there for another hour, only to be asked and told exactly what he expected to hear. You told him that you’d sit at the end of the bar, staying with him until he specifically asked you to go home, but really you wanted to hang around to make sure Tom didn’t get into another bar fight that ended up with him having more than a concussion.

Some college students fled in and asked for a round of beers while others waited for their favorite cocktails. There was enough staff tonight that Tom didn’t feel overwhelmed like last few times, sometimes having to clock in on days he didn’t work because someone called in sick. The new guys were nice, most of them young and needing something to do during graduate school or trying to make rent.

As Tom wiped down the bar when a group of girls left, his manager, Teddy, called his name from behind. He quickly looked over his shoulder and tossed the rag in the bucket underneath the bar, walking over to Teddy who never failed to not have a clipboard in his hands. He never took off his wedding ring at work like some of the other servers and bartenders and even so, he gushed about his wife, Anna, when he could. Even though he sounded like a broken record some days, Tom admired how Teddy flaunted his stable, almost 20-year relationship.

“Glad to see you back, Tommy!” Teddy grinned at him, putting his hand on his shoulder.

“Yeah, yeah. I feel better, I just have to go to a few doctor’s appointments, if that’s okay with you.” Tom asked in the moment, crossing his arms.

“Of course! Of course. For how long you’ve been working here, I don’t think you’ve ever taken a sick day or called in last minute.”

“It’s just been two years, Teddy. You make me sound old.” Tom joked, cracking a smile.

“Yeah, but I still appreciate you. You’re a valuable asset.”

Tom didn’t want to take the compliment, but he still nodded and grinned.

“Hey, have you heard anything from that guy’s lawyers? Are they giving you any compensation?” Teddy curiously asked as he wrote with his signature, blue pen on the paper of the clipboard.

“My girlfriend and I found a lawyer, but I don’t know if he’s good enough to make sure I get the money I’m supposed to get. We’re working it out.” Tom reassured him as he glared at his feet.

Teddy smiled at Tom, big and sincere, “Well, as long as you have that support, you’ll be prepared for anything that comes your way. I’m sure your daughter will too.”

Tom nodded, “Yeah… She’s a great kid.”

He still hadn’t told anyone at work what had happened with Summer, seeing it was no one’s business other than everyone knowing he got hired because he was a single dad trying to provide for his daughter, at least who he thought was his daughter.

“Well, I’ll let you get back to work. Let me know if you need anything.” Teddy acknowledged before walking to the kitchen through the doors.

Tom bit his bottom lip before sealing his lips, looking out at the crowd coming in. Out of habit, he checked his watch again, but quickly turned away to not keep holding out with his dad to come. When Tom’s gaze landed on you, his eyes softened a bit at the natural glow you had. You were talking to a girl who you knew in college, both of you still sat at the end of the bar and you smiled and laughed with her.

As he walked over to where you were, your eyes went to him and your friend looked over her shoulder.

“I’ll see you around, Y/N.” She grinned, flashing Tom a friendly smile before she walked back over to her table of friends.

Tom’s eyes followed her then turned his focus to you, leaning on the bar, “Who was that?”

“She was in a few of my classes in college. Good friend. She thought that I had a pretty cute boyfriend too. Apparently, his black eye makes him look very brawny.” You teased, bringing your class of water to your lips as you watched him chuckle.

“Is he here tonight? I’d love to meet him finally.” Tom joked back.

The brightness was back in his brown eyes, a glimmer of hazel under the warm light. You hadn’t seen that gleam in a long time and it was a good sign and as much as you couldn’t know what was going through his mind, you just wanted more moments like this. Both of you away from the apartment where you weren’t secluded to walls that had too many memories built within them.

You leaned on the bar, your nose brushing against Tom’s before you shared a sweet, short kiss. You giggled against your lips as he did too, but you pulled back when you heard someone say his name from behind.

Tom’s dad stood there, his hair was a salt-and-pepper shade and a few lines along his face. The shoulders of his cargo jacket were wet from the downpour outside, a few raindrops dripping down his forehead and nose.

“Hey, Dad…” Tom sighed.

You turned to Tom, “Go, it’ll be okay, baby.” You reassured him, placing your hand on top of his.

“Okay. I’ll see you in a bit.” Tom said before giving you another kiss then walked around the bar to meet with his dad in the middle of the floor.

“Do you wanna sit?” His dad asked him, gesturing his hand to the table next to them.

“Yeah, I just have a few minutes,” Tom said, pulling out the chair.

His dad furrowed his eyebrows, “What happened to your face? Did you get into a fight?”

“Uh, yeah. Sort of. It’s not important.” Tom deflected as he lightly touched his eye, not thinking his bruise was that noticeable in the dim lighting of the table.

“I think it’s important.” His dad chuckled, leaning on the table to get a closer look, “C’mon, who was it?”

Tom nodded his head, “That’s not why you’re here to talk, Dad.” He said lowly, crossing his arms.

“Well, I wanted to catch up. How are you? How’s Summer?” His dad tried to carry the conversation in a more positive manner, hoping he could connect with Tom without it becoming an argument.

“Um, Summer’s fine. She’s in kindergarten this year.” Tom replied.

“Wow! Kindergarten already? It’s like yesterday you were that age. You would always wear that damn baseball hat everyday… your mom would throw a fit and she tried to hide it from you all the time, but you managed to always find it. Ah, she just loved when your hair grew out.” His dad chuckled, leaning back in his chair and he glanced over at you.

“Yeah… She’s getting older.”

“You have a picture?” His dad quickly asked.

Tom pulled out his phone, scrolling through his gallery until he found a picture from a few weeks ago at her birthday party. It was when Summer was blowing out her candles, her knees pressed into the chair cushion and her one hand pushing her up on the table while the casted one was by her side as she tried to reach the top of the cake.

“She broke her arm? Geez, what’s going on in your lives?” His dad smiled at the picture before Tom took his phone back.

“Her and Y/N went ice skating and she fell and… it was a whole thing, but she’s okay now.”

His dad grinned, “Is that Y/N over there?” He nodded his head in your direction.

Tom looked over his shoulder at you, still sat at the bar and you were talking with one of the bartenders. You crossed your leg over the other as you carried the conversation with a glowing smile painted on your lips, gesturing with your one hand while the other cupped your drink. The red and yellow lights strobed against your face, highlighting it past all the people passing by to get drinks or dance on the other side of the room. You felt Tom’s eyes glued to you, making you stare back at him and give him a playful wink.

“Yeah. We’re... dating now.” Tom admitted, glancing down at the table and drawing slow circles with his index finger on the polished wood.

Tom’s dad smiled, “Yeah well, you always had a crush on her. Glad to know you guys are still close. She was always a nice kid and… from what you told me, she was good with Summer.”

Every time Summer’s name was brought up, it struck Tom’s nerve and it made his face heat up. The more he talked about her, the more upset he got about what was going on complied with the other things going on in his life. Tom clenched his jaw, not able to reply and his dad could see he was upset. Even though Tom was growing older and he was his own man, his father could always tell when something was wrong. As much as Tom didn’t think anyone could figure him out, his dad could read him like the back of his hand.

“Is something else going on? Other than me just showing up?” His dad tilted his head to try to look at Tom.

As Tom’s pride fought his ego, he didn’t want to feel like he was suddenly giving into his father now that he was sitting in front of him. The idea of talking to his dad made him upset and brought back cruel memories, but now that he was venting and talking about things he thought he would be angry about, this seemed like a better time than any other to explain what was really going on.

Tom picked at his nail, trying to find the first words to say to how he felt without it feeling like a corny, emotional sitcom moment.

His face heated up, “I… I sort of found out that I’m… not Summer’s biological father.” Tom pinned his lips, tears developing by the corners of his eyes saying it out loud.

Tom’s father was shocked, not showing it on his face, but he gulped, “Are you sure?”

“A hundred percent. I took a DNA test at the doctor’s and… it sort of just… Well, I trust it enough to take it one time. The girl who’s her mom took her away, probably just for the child support, but I can’t figure out what to do… It’s been a month without her and I can’t sleep anymore, Dad. I raised her and I never doubted she was my daughter until now.” Tom choked up, a dryness in his throat making it hard to take a deep breath. He ran his hand over the top of his hair, weaving his fingers through the fluffy brown curls and pushing it away from his forehead.

His dad took a few seconds to contain his thoughts, wanting to truly think before he spoke and knew how much Summer meant to Tom.

“And on top of that, this asshole threw a punch at me at the bar last week and that’s how I got this.” Tom gestured to his eye, “And now I’m trying to get a settlement, but I don’t think I can afford the lawyer, and… everything is falling apart.” Tom trailed, finally looking right into his dad’s eyes who’s were similar to his.

Tom lowered his head, trying to hold his tears back at the sudden release of everything on his mind.

“I know you raised that little girl so well and I’ve always admired you for that.” His dad started.

Tom ran his hands down his face, sniffling as the whites of his eyes turned a light red. He couldn’t look at him as his father started to talk, worrying it was going to be a backhanded compliment and it was the wrong decision to do this.

“But, it’s gonna be hard to get her back if she’s not yours… but, if you find out more about how the mother feels about Summer and the whole situation, I can get in contact with a good lawyer or steer you in the direction of one.” His dad offered, but Tom nodded his head in response.

“Dad, I can’t do that.”

“I’m your father and I’m not gonna leave you hanging like this… I know you love Summer and you raised her. I’m not gonna let you drown yourself in a settlement on top of that, okay?”

“I’m not a kid anymore. I can take care of this-”

“You’re not, I know that! You’re a grown adult who’s just needing some help and that’s fine.” His dad emphasized, understanding how hard-headed his own son could be.

Tom nodded, “I want it to be a loan. I can pay you back for however long it takes.”

“No, no. Let me help you out… as your dad. I’m not a bank, I’m not… anyone else. I’m your father and I know that if you were taken away from like Summer was to you, I’d want everything to be as smooth as possible.” His dad explained, trying to show how much he truly cared about his son despite the cold, bitter tension between them for the past year and a half.

The two of them sat there with the noise of the people’s conversations around to fill the silence, but Tom came to his decision and he nodded, “Okay. It’s a deal.”

They didn’t even shake hands, let alone hug, but the thankfulness was implied. Tom’s dad grinned at his son, the one who was just a little kid he wishes he truly gave the world to instead of sitting here thinking he had a lot to make up for.

“Other than all of that, have things been good otherwise?” His dad asked, glancing up at him.

Tom chuckled, “Just this and not much else. It’s been pretty boring without Summer around. But, Y/N has made it better.”

“Is she a keeper?” His dad grinned.

“She’s more than that. She’s really great and I could… see her in my life forever.”

His dad smiled, “I remember when she broke her arm and you just went on and on about dropping her homework at her house. I had to… call the school and get the parent contact information and then you were all jittery and nervous in the car. Even gelled your hair that day.” He recalled, smiling at the memory.

Tom blushed, “I wasn’t that nervous.”

“She really is a sweet girl. I’m happy for you.” His dad appreciated him, nice to see a smile finally on his face.

“Thanks, Dad.” Tom’s smile curled up, patches on red painting his cheeks at the thought of you even if you were sitting a few feet away.

“Well, it looks busy here so, maybe we can reschedule for an actual dinner. One that I don’t have to tip you for.” His dad jokes as they both stand up from their seats.

“Yeah, yeah. Of course. Definitely.” Tom nodded, running his sweaty palms down the front of his pants.

“It was really nice to see you. Don’t be a stranger.” His dad stood in front of him, staring at the mature and put-together man his son had become in the blink of an eye. It was a bittersweet feeling that maybe their time apart was leading up to this moment.

“I won’t.” Tom grinned, leaning in and wrapping his one arm around his dad.

His dad linked his arm around him as well, his hand meeting Tom’s back and giving it a few rubs before they pulled apart.

“I’ll keep in touch with you about the lawyer.”

“Thanks again.” Tom nodded.

You glanced over your shoulder, watching them go their own ways and his dad gave a quick wave to you. When your eyes shifted to Tom, he had a glow on his face, wanting to hide his smile by sealing his lips. You couldn’t help but grin, swiveling the barstool around to face him and you reached out for his hand.

“How did it go?” You simply asked, placing your hand on top of your knee.

Tom nodded, “It was fine, we can talk about it more when I get home.”

“No, tell me now.” You giggled, not wanting to put a damper on his news.

He half-smiled, “Just know that everything is going in the right direction. My dad said he’d help me a little bit with the settlement stuff and that way I can focus on Summer and what we’re gonna do.”

You ran your thumb over the top of his hand, “I’m really proud of you, you know that?”

“It was nothing-”

“It was something.” You retorted with a sweet smile, giving a light squeeze to his hand, “C’mhere.”

You placed your hand on his cheek, pulling him in to press a soft kiss on his lips. Deep down, he knew it wasn’t easy, but he didn’t want to take pride in something that seemed silly after it had happened. Luckily, he had you to remind him that he was taking the steps he needed to get Summer back. It was the first time you could see the light inside him even if he didn’t want to show it. Just from the difference in his smile, there was that gleam of hope.

As you pulled away, you sealed your lips and grinned at him. Your nose scrunched up as you both giggled, suddenly overwhelmed by the happiness filling yours and Tom’s hearts. You brushed your nose against his, your foreheads pressing together before he gave you another light kiss.

“Okay, I gotta work. You should go home, get some rest.”

“Well, I kind of wanna stay. It’s nice here and you’re just someone cute to look at.” You tilted your head.

“Why don’t you order something, on me, relax for a while and I’ll try to get off work early. Maybe, we can pick up ice cream on the way home to celebrate.”

“Celebrate? Must have been really great news that I can’t wait to hear in detail.” You jeered and he planted a light kiss on your forehead before rounding behind the bar. He grabbed his rag, shoving it in his back pocket and you turned around toward him.

“What would you like to drink tonight, ma’am?” Tom said jokingly, placing a cocktail napkin on the bar in front of you.

Your lips to the side, “A rum and coke and make it dirty, Mr. Barkeep.”

He chuckled as he pulled a glass off the bottom shelf, beginning to make your drink in swift moves. He looked so natural behind the bar as he poured the bottles in intricate ways, finishing off the beverage with two cherries.

“Let me know if you need anything.” He smiled followed by a wink.

“Nothing I can say in public.” You teased before taking a sip of your drink.

Tom smirked at you before moving down the bar, tending to other customers with a natural smile on his lips. You tilted your head with your drink in your hand, almost in awe of him and how handsome he was.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜

The night was getting louder while the crowd was growing, some people passing by bumping your shoulder even though you were still sat at the bar. You saw a few friends and struck up conversations with them to catch up, not completely bored while Tom was working, but you were worried about him. You hoped that he wouldn’t oddly hurt himself, having to take him to the ER and give him a good “I told you so” talk on the way there.

As you worked on your second drink, your phone vibrated in your purse and the screen lit up. You furrowed your eyebrow at the unknown number but still decided to take it in case it was important. You asked your friend to save your seat as you took your purse, moving through the crowd to get outside. The rain was pouring still, but you stood underneath the awning of the bar as people ran under it, drying themselves off before entering.

“Hello? This is Y/N.”

“Y/N? It’s Summer.” She whimpered, her voice at a whisper.

She stole Maggie’s phone that she left on the charger in her room, sneaking it away and using the emergency numbers written on the tag of her backpack. Tom didn’t answer first, making her worried so she decided to call you and hoped to hear your voice she missed so much.

Your heart dropped, “Summer? Are you okay?”

“No, the lady is mean. She makes me go to bed early with no bedtime stories like Daddy said she would. She-she’s not fun and she leaves me with a strange lady next door.” She sniffled, curled up behind her bedroom door.

“Wh-What strange lady?”

“She’s old and mean too. I don’t wanna be here anymore. I wanna be with you and daddy.” Summer continued to cry at a low volume, muffling her whimpers to not let Maggie hear in the next door.

You felt your heart breaking, not sure what to say since she wasn’t your kid but, in a way, she was. You pinched your nose bridge and the heavy rain making it hard to have a clear mind.

“Um, um, have you talked to your dad? Are you safe?” You asked, frantic as her.

“N-no, Daddy didn’t answer. Please come pick me up. I hate it here.” She wept, her voice shakey as she begged.

You nodded, not able to take it anymore, “You wait there, we’re gonna come to get you.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜

The time was almost midnight, but a loud knock echoed against Maggie’s door. She groaned, getting herself out of bed and thinking it was a drunk at the wrong apartment or someone playing a prank. As she approached the door, Maggie put her hair into a bun to clear her vision when she approached the door in the dark. After flicking on the light switch for the warm light above her, she opened the door and saw Tom dripping wet.

“Tom?... It’s almost midnight. I told you not to come here again.”

Tom sighed, “Y/N got a call from Summer and she was upset.”

Maggie rolled her eyes, “I can’t believe she took my phone. Jesus, what did you teach her? Because she’s been acting out in school, whenever I’m at work, I can’t take her anywhere!” She complained, her arm slapping against her side as the other held the door open.

“I didn’t teach her that. You’re the one who doesn’t know her and I know you’re not treating her right.”

“Oh, how do you know?”

“You leave her with some strange woman when you’re not here?”

“It’s my mother, Tom. I work, I have an actual job, okay? Not some side gig at a crappy bar where I can live on my tips.” She retorted, but it made Tom’s anger quickly grow.

Tom ran his hand through his wet hair, almost defeated by how defensive she was.

“Why are you doing this? She’s upset and she wants to see me.”

“Well, Summer is just a kid, she’ll get over it. Not getting her way is a part of life, Tom. God! You babied her so much that she just comes crying to you.” Maggie hissed at him, ready to slam the door in his face.

“She is a baby! She’s a kid, Maggie. She called Y/N because she can’t stand you. Do you think that’s good for her? Being here?” Tom yelled back, his jaw clenched and his face heating up.

“You know, I’m getting really sick of you saying what Y/N thinks is good for Summer like she’s her stepmother or something.”

“And where were you being mom of the year? Huh? Why do you have such a problem with her, Maggie? She’s the one who helped me throughout raising Summer, not you because you were never here!”

Maggie crossed her arms, her only defense since she didn’t have any words.

“Where were you when she took her first steps? Her first words? When she got her first A in kindergarten? Did you take her to the hospital when you thought she had a peanut allergy or when she fell ice skating? Who was there for her, Maggie?!” Tom persisted, his eyes filling with tears at how angry he felt.

Maggie couldn’t look Tom in the eyes because it was all true, she knew it this whole time, but hearing it out loud made her even feel a bit guilty.

“So, why do you suddenly want her now? Is it money? Or do you really want her to be in your life? I can arrange it any way you want if you really do what her back in your life, but I don’t think it’s fair that you just swoop up and take her away when she’s my kid too. A kid that I raised since you left her on my doorstep six years ago.”

Maggie chuckled out of spite, “You’d never get it.”

“Then tell me! Tell me so I understand. It’s just us right now. Y/N isn’t here and all I want is Summer back home so, what is the reason, Maggie?” Tom asked, his voice a bit more calm, but still frustrated that he hadn’t gotten a straight answer the entire time they had been standing there, “I know there’s a reason why you didn’t tell me all these years that she wasn’t mine. You know it and I know it… I just want you to be honest with me. Okay?” Tom retorted.

She sighed, stepping outside and closing the door behind her. As she rubbed her hands down her face, her breath was shaky as the truth was trying to inch out of your mouth.

“I… Summer’s dad and I were dating and I told him about her and he was… upset. Like, he thought I was just a bad mom and he said he’d leave me if I didn’t just take care of her.” She huffed, shrugging at how stupid it sounded coming out.

Tom was baffled, but he let her explain herself without interrupting.

“H-He left to Vegas or San Diego or wherever. He left me again and now I just… I wanted to prove myself!” She whined, gritting her teeth as a tear trailed down her cheek, “But, she hates me and I don’t blame her, but I know I’m not a mom. I never… wanted a kid, okay? I just… I wanted him back.”

All Tom thought was that she was selfish. He could yell and scream all he wanted, taking Summer away from her in the next few seconds, but nevertheless, he controlled his breathing and tried to hear her out.

“Anything else?” He asked looking down at his feet, his arms crossed and feeling a chill from the AC.

Her eyes were teary, but she nodded, “Don’t hate me, please. Please.” She begged at a whisper.

“I don’t… Just, do the right thing now and let her come back home.” Tom sighed, his voice broken as well.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜

Your body felt on fire from how anxious you felt, your foot tapping against the floor of Tom’s car. You waited, thinking your heart was going to burst in your chest if you had to wait any longer. A few minutes went by, concentrating on the time on the radio, but the heavy rain made the car windows look like stained glass. You hated biting at your nails, but you couldn’t help it after hearing Summer’s scared voice.

You curled up in the passenger seat, pulling on the seatbelt. You couldn’t just sit there anymore and do nothing, but stare at the dashboard and listen to the rain hitting the windshield. Your eyes began to tear up, wiping them quickly with the sleeves of your shirt, but you turned your head when you heard the back door open.

Tom was soaked from head to toe by this point, but Summer was curled around him before he set her on the seats. She had her backpack on, her hair damp and she was in her matching pajamas. Rain dripped off her noise and she wiped her wet forehead with the back of her hand.

“You get buckled in, just buckle in, okay?” Tom told her, still standing in the rain as he gave her the buckle of the seatbelt.

She nodded, guiding it across her body and pushing it in the lock until she heard the click.

“There you go.” He nodded, shutting the door and walking around the front of the car.

You sealed your lips as tears ran down your cheeks, tasting how salty your tears were. When Tom sat down, practically throwing himself into the car, your eyes met and you smiled at him. There was a sense of relief back in your lives at this moment, possibly a perfect one. As you glanced over your shoulder, Summer’s head was against the door and her eyes were heavy, but you reached your hand back to meet hers, holding it so tight that you never could think to let go again.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜

tags/taglist: @felicityparkers @dhtomholland @duskholland @sinisterspidey@itstaskeen @tomhollandsgirlfriend @bi-writes @infinite-imagination @honeyspidey @hollandcrush @sunsetholland @pparkersbitch @namoreno @calltothewild @spideyspeaches @veryholland @osterfieldshollandgirl @slutforsebstan @bi-lmg @sunshinepeterparkr @annathesillyfriend @madmadmilk @antigoneidk @hollandcreep @wierdflowerpower

#tom holland imagine #tom holland fluff #tom holland angst #tom holland x reader #tom holland x female!reader #dad!tom #bartender!tom

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shoutaaizawas · 4 years

Text

↳ hawks x reader → ❝better❞

summary: hawks wishes he could be a better man for you but you reassure him he’s enough. word count: 1k+ tags/warnings: mild hurt/comfort, insecurity, fluff, cuddles a/n: i love hawks 👉👈🥺 i have a bigger thing planned for him but i dont feel like working on it atm so take this fluff

Hawks hated to keep things from you. You were so honest, you didn’t hesitate to tell him anything even if it was something you might prefer to keep to yourself. You shared it all with him. He hated himself for not being able to do the same with you.

He was a spy, he was a hero pretending to be a villain that was pretending to be a hero. It was a dangerous game that could end badly very quickly. Not just for him but for a lot of people.

Especially when it came to days like these. He had returned from meeting with the League which always left him so drained. He hated to be around you after but not for the reasons you might think. You would always want to cheer him up, you make him his favorite food, cuddle with him on the couch, do anything he wanted. That was amazing, the ways you showed him love made him feel things he never had before. But it always left him feeling guilty, he wanted to vent to you but he couldn’t. Not only would he be in ten types of trouble he’d be putting you at risk. If you knew nothing no one could use you for information and that would keep you safer.

Today had been bad. Worse than his usual bad days and he couldn’t stay away from you.

Landing on your balcony he opened the door. It was always unlocked for him. You told him that he was always welcome any time he needed to come in he was welcome. He scolded you and said you should lock it, just because most people couldn’t reach it didn’t mean it was safe. There were plenty of people with quirks who could.

He could hear the shower running from your bathroom so he made himself comfortable on the couch, spreading his wings out as he laid down. He could feel the tension leave his body as he rested. Your apartment always smelled so good, it was comforting. You burned so many candles your place always had a soft smell of the most recent candle you had gotten.

“Babe!” You said surprised by his presence. He opened his eyes and took in your appearance. You looked so cute in your sweatpants and an old t-shirt. “I didn’t know you were here.”

“Sorry, I came in through the balcony.” He said sitting up.

“Don’t apologize.” You said walking towards him. “You know you’re always welcome here.”

He melted as you climbed onto his lap wrapping your arms around him. His wings fluffed up at the contact. They tended to do that whenever he felt really comfortable. It embarrassed him at first but when you giggled at how cute it was he thought it was worth it to see you that happy.

Hawks pulled you in tight, clutching you to his chest and pressing his head against your shoulder. It felt good to have you safe in his arms even if his emotions were all over the place. The relief was quickly swallowed by guilt. You deserved better, you deserved an honest man, someone who wouldn’t put you in danger just by being near you.

“Hey, is everything okay?” You asked softly, hands brushing through his hair. “Did something happen today?”

“I don’t deserve you.” He mumbled into your shoulder.

“Don’t say that, baby.” You scolded in a soft voice.

“It’s true.” He said pulling back and looking you in the eyes. “I can’t even tell you what I’m upset about how could I ask for your help. You deserve someone who isn’t hiding things from you.”

“Keigo.” You said in a stern tone, taking his cheeks between your hands. “You’re a hero, I can’t expect to know everything you do. What you do affects everyone’s safety I’m not selfish enough to demand I know things for my own sake.”

“But-”

“No. I’m here for you no matter what, when you can tell me that’s great. But there are going to be times that you can’t or you just don’t want to and that’s okay. I’ll always be here for you. I’ll always be waiting with my arms open and no questions.”

“Baby,” He cooed, tears welling in his eyes. He had never been loved so fiercely, so unconditionally by someone.

“Okay, I did lie. I will ask questions.” You admitted. “But those questions are going to be, are you hungry, what do you want to eat, do you want to watch Netflix?”

“I can answer those for you.” He smiled at your teasing. You pulled him back into a hug.

“Do you want to eat right now?” You asked.

“Can you just hold me?” He said.

“Always.” You smiled at him.

The two of you made your way to your bed, it was just easier to cuddle on your bed with his wings. Laying down Hawks climbed on top of you, resting his head against your chest. You wrapped your arms around him, one hand in his windswept hair and the other brushing up and down his back. Your hand moved from his back to the base of his wings and he let out a sigh. When your hand moved again to brush through the feathers of his wings he practically let out a coo.

He could feel you smiling at the way he melted into you. Hawks was always so focused on his job and keeping other people safe and happy but when he was with you he could let his guard down. He could not think about all of the things he had done or would have to do. It was just the two of you and that’s all that mattered.

#hawks x reader #kegio takami x reader #takami keigo x reader #keigo x reader #bnha #mha #bnha x reader #mha x reader #hawks #keigo takami #my writing

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the-firebender-girl · 4 years

Text

The Songbird (Zuko x Reader)

-> Takes place during “The Promise” comic timeline, about a year or two after his coronation and Zuko is 18 years old here.

Fire Lord Zuko is trying his absolute best to make good on all his promises. To his nation... his hopes and dreams of restoring it to what it was before Fire Lord Sozin’s reign. To the rest of the world... in helping them heal the wounds that his ancestors have inflicted on soo many innocents.

No, he doesn’t want any of them to forget or for history to be rewritten. He proudly shouldered the burden from all those heinous crimes against humanity, to serve as a reminder, especially for himself. Of what happened if kings or leaders become arrogant and greedy, if power is unchecked. The kind of leader that to Agni he prayed, he would never turn into.

And everyday he paid the price, even though it’s not even his to begin with, but still it passed down from generation to generation. Like a snowball, growing bigger with each tumble down. It’s taking its toll on him to the point that it’s not even possible to hide how worn out he is. The dark circles under his eyes more prominent than ever, sunken cheeks, hollowed eyes. But Zuko would never yield, not until he knows he has righted all the wrongs. But with each day, Uncle Iroh realized he has to step in or else this load that torment him would ended up killing his nephew. Literally.

And he has just the solution in mind.

———————————————————————

“I think we should establish an official court entertainers for this palace.” Uncle Iroh said in between sips of another one of his exotic tea.

Zuko merely looked up briefly from the correspondence that he has in hands, “There are more pressing issues than extravaganza, Uncle.”

“Indeed, indeed. But entertainers would bring life to this dreadful palace, Fire Lord Zuko! Agni knows the staffs and ambassadors need it. With all that’s been going on with the rebellion within this capital, we all deserve some distraction.” Uncle Iroh continued. “There is an unrest brewing in this palace, people are scared for their safety. We need to contain it and what’s more delightful than musics or dances to bring people together?”

Zuko only hummed and shifted his attention back towards the letter. His frown returned as he let out a loud sigh and slumped in his chair.

“Any news that I should be aware of?” Uncle Iroh asked. If Zuko doesn’t want to consider his idea then maybe he should try another approach and let him vent first.

“It’s about the Harmony Restoration Movement... I launched it with the aim of transferring the Fire Nation colonials back here to their true home. But new disputes arose and now we risked war with the Earth Kingdom if we don’t handle this delicately.” Zuko answered. “How am I supposed to deal with both this and the civil war that we already have in hand within the nation, uncle?”

“As I said before, Zuko. Sometimes we need to step back and renew one's assessment. To see the big picture instead of braving the storm without any solid plan in mind. That would be both foolish and futile.” Iroh replied, letting his words sinks into his nephew’s mind.

Zuko squared his shoulders and sit straighter, putting down the letter that he has been holding for hours and look at his uncle. “About that court entertainers idea, is there any candidate that you have in mind?”

Uncle Iroh mentally pat himself in the back and let himself smile now that he got Zuko where he wanted him to be. “There is this band of traveling musicians from North Chung-Ling that I constantly heard about. They said that the mysterious lead singer’s voice is so lovely that it can put whoever’s listening into a trance. I only know that they nicknamed her as ‘The Songbird’ but other than that nothing else, and I for one would like to find out.”

Zuko nod his head a few times, “Then I should find someone who can reach out to them and invite them here.”

———————————————————————

A month after the invitation has been sent out and the palace received the confirmation that this famed band accepted the offer, preparations are made. Not only to welcome and host them for the time being but also for the ball where they will perform before the ambassadors from other nations and all the palace staffs. Turns out Zuko haven’t had the slightest inkling as to how popular they actually are before he made the announcement and suddenly the whole palace is in a frenzy. Everybody wants to go and watch the performance.

And the night that they’ve all waited for is now upon them. Sadly Zuko cannot welcome them himself because he was held up in the meeting so it was only Uncle Iroh who greeted and escorted them. He has heard from the tittle-tattle exchanged between the staffs though that the band consisted of 9 person and they’re all women.

It’s been a while since Zuko got to relax and enjoy the luxury that came with his position. And not many know that their Fire Lord is actually a huge art nerd especially for theater, but music performances has a special place in his heart too. He could only hope that this band lives up to their reputation.

———————————————————————

Zuko sit at his ornate covered throne (minus the wall of fire that usually accompanied every reigning Fire Lord) and he’s embarrassed to admit that he may or may not be shaking from anticipation. Tapping his right foot on the floor to ease some of the tension. Even Uncle Iroh noticed his behavior and looked at him questionably to which Zuko only waved his hand in dismisal.

The Throne Room is crowded with people dressed to the nines in elaborate robes and gowns. But the center of the room remains empty for the musicians before they take their place there any minute now.

Some minutes later the door opened and nine women stepped in. Their colorful dresses so different from what he’s used to seeing amongst his people in their go-to black and red. Their hairstyle elaborate and completed with large hairpiece accessorized with beads, pins, tassels, or fresh flowers.

“Qitou” Zuko thought to himself. That’s why he recognized the style of hair from the time that he spent as a waiter in Jasmine Dragon. The women in the upper ring of Ba Sing Se sported that kind of hairstyle.

He spied them carrying various musical instruments ranging from pipa, guzheng, dizi, and others. Holding it close to their chest as if it’s a baby.

When they reached the center, they wordlessly take their designated position forming a half circle but left an empty space right in the middle of their formation.

Before Zuko could watch any further, the door swung open again and the last of the member entered. It’s her.... The Songbird.

She walks as if she’s floating, the fact that her feet are covered by her trailing dress produced an even more dramatic effect. But it works in her favor, Zuko realized, as all eyes in the room immediately goes to her.

There is something magnetic about her, he could feel it as he drink her in, a tug in his chest. She graced him with a small smile and a bow before she took her position and motioned to the rest of her companions that she’s ready.

Melodies filled the room as the musicians played their instruments expertly, hands moving with little to no effort as if it’s all already imprinted to their muscle memory.

Zuko never thought that it’s possible for her to dazzle him even more than she already did, but that was before she opened her mouth and starts singing that heavenly tune. After that, Zuko knew that he’s a goner.

He clings to the lull of her voice, letting it fill him, resounded in him. He never felt this serene ever since he found out that his mother had left. But The Songbird managed to accomplish the impossible and made him feel alive. Truly live instead of just existing.

It seems like he’s not the only one who she won over. Uncle Iroh’s gapping like a fish, some of the palace staffs eyes are either glazed or filled with tears, and the ambassadors for once are not in each other’s throats.

If he wasn’t convinced earlier on making them this palace’s official entertainers, he sure is now.

———————————————————————

On the next day after the ball he immediately approached one of the members when he saw her in the hall to inform her of his offer so that she can tell it to the others and discuss their decision.

He doesn’t need to wait long for in that same night he just got himself an official court entertainers.

Starting from there he invited them to play at dinners and afternoon tea times. Any excuse that he can get really to see her. Y/N... that’s her name, the girl who has been living in his head rent free ever since she walked into his life.

Sometimes it’s only her that he called for to sing for him as she strums her pipa. Her voice accompanying him while he sorts through correspondence, writing back a reply, or draft up a plan.

Zuko and Y/N grew closer and became friends, they share about their day to each other. All that they’ve been up to before they finally got the time to enjoy each other’s presence.

Spending soo much time with him daily makes Y/N aware of certain things. The most pushing matter is the fact that the Fire Lord is close to burning himself out yet there’s no sign of him stopping anytime soon.

“You know you should get more rest, you look awful.” Y/N said to him that night instead of jumping to another song as she just finished the last one.

“Ouch you’re hurting my feelings, Y/N. Do I really look that bad?” Zuko replied but his manners is all teasing.

“I don’t mean that you look ugly, I don’t think you’re even capable of it. It’s just that you look like you’re about to drop dead anytime, Zuko. It’s killing me to see you this exhausted but I couldn’t do anything to help it.” She murmured, looking at him tenderly, the man she has grown to care for much more than she ought to.

Something in her words served like a lock that turned open the vault of Zuko’s hidden emotions, to the ugly burden that he insisted on bearing alone. He let his guard down and made himself vulnerable in front of her, all his raw emotions on display.

“I have trouble sleeping, because of nightmares mostly, but some nights sleep just doesn’t found me at all.” Zuko confessed, the words pouring out before he could think it through.

The encouragement in her eyes made Zuko go on and he told her all about the things that troubles him so. The rebels inside the capital planning to usurp him, the conflict with the colonies, the impending possible war with the Earth Kingdom, even his own insecurities about his credibilities to rule. He bared it all to her and once he finished, he saw no judgement or pity in her eyes, only understanding.

“I can’t even begin to imagine what it’s like to be you... but you have been so strong, Zuko. And i’m proud of you, I bet so is your uncle, the Avatar, and the rest of your friends. Please stop doubting yourself too much, you’re capable of achieving soo many incredible and revolutionary things. And I want you to know that I believe in you.” Y/N said as she slowly took his hands in hers, running her fingers across his knuckles.

And Zuko felt himself beaming, because for once he truly believes that he is indeed capable and in the end he’ll figure it all out. All thanks to her, his Songbird, if she even wants to be his.

———————————————————————

Zuko and Y/N talked late into the night and she ended up falling asleep right where she sat in a divan across from his bed.

When she woke up sometime later, she saw that it is already 1 in the morning. And she felt like she’s overstaying her welcome by being in his chambers, it wouldn’t be appropriate at all if a servant were to discovers them.

So she stretched her body, hearing some cracks from the stiffness, but then she heard a whimper. It’s coming straight from Zuko’s bed where he’s trashing around and getting himself all tangled up in his silk blanket. At this rate she’s afraid he might accidentally choke himself to death.

Y/N lowers her feet to the rug covered floor and slowly padded her way to his bedside. She went down on her knees and reached out a hand to rub his hair back, hoping that he could feel her touch and that it would call him down from his nightmare.

“Shhh....shhhh” She cooed to him, her heart broke in her chest when she saw how pained he look. “It’s alright, Zuko. I’m here and it’s just a dream.”

Zuko flung himself up, his eyes wide open. Chest heaving frantically and she can see the sweats trailing down the side of his head.

It took him some time before he calmed down and became aware of her. “I’m sorry, did I wake you up?”

Y/N shaked her head, “Don’t worry about that, is it always this bad? the nightmares?” She asked him, her heart fluttering over the fact that he’s aware of her hands holding his yet he doesn’t pull away.

“Yeah... sometimes even worse, this is actually a mild episode compared to the others. Some night I actually woke up screaming.” He said as he lowered his head, avoiding her eyes.

But she softly grasped his chin and tilted his face back up, “Hey now don’t shy away from me, we’re way past that don’t you think?”

“Do you want me to sing you a song? I’ve been working on it for some time, it’s for you actually.” Y/N said.

Zuko stammered over his words, “Y—you wrote me a song?”

“Uh huh, scoot over if it’s a yes.” To which Zuko gladly did and gave her a generous amount of space.

“Sorry if it’s a weird request but can you hold me?” Zuko asked timidly.

Y/N answered with a nod and smile at him as she tugged him close, letting him rest his head on her stomach and draped her hands on his sides. Once she deemed that he’s comfortable enough with the position, she took a huge breath and starts to sing.

Sweetheart, you look a little tired when did you last eat?

Come in and make yourself right at home, stay as long as you need

Zuko’s eyes found hers as he listened to the words that she wrote with him in mind. A weary smile bloomed on his handsome face at the realization that all this time she was paying attention to how he has been doing.

Tell me, is something wrong? if something's wrong, you can count on me

You know I'll take my heart clean apart if it helps yours beat

He gulped, hard. This girl with a golden voice, wrote all this... for him? Agni, this is too much for him to even process. He could barely calm his heart, it’s pounding so hard he wouldn’t be surprised if it actually burst.

Like a force to be reckoned with

A mighty ocean or a gentle kiss

I will love you with every single thing I have

Y/N forced herself to hold his searing gaze, every part of her body feels warm and alive at the way that he’s looking at her. Like he’s truly at awe and he doesn’t deserve any of this. But she continued, pouring her feelings into every single word so that he would understand, could see how wonderful he is in her eyes.

Like a tidal wave, I'll make a mess

Or calm waters, if that serves you best

I will love you without any strings attached

There is a hidden but lingering promise in this song, one that Zuko founds himself debating whether or not he dare tread to. Because he knows that if he took that one step in, he could never go back.

No, I don't want to talk about myself

Tell me where it hurts

I just want to build you up, build you up

'Til you're good as new

And maybe one day I will get around to fixing myself too

Zuko reached out a hand and rub her cheek, marveling in the softness of it under his touch. He felt her breath hitched for just a second but she never faltered.

And what a privilege it is to love

A great honor to hold you up

Zuko let out a chuckle as he heard the word honor, how different he perceived it now from a few years ago.

She reached the final lyric and the song came to an end, for a while they can only look at each other.

“Thank you.... it’s lovely, you’re lovely.” Zuko murmured to her, with a hand still on her cheek.

“I’m glad you like it.” Y/N said, smiling down at him as she relishes in the feeling of his soft strands between her fingers.

“Would you stay here with me, Songbird?” He asked, hope alit in those amber eyes.

“Yes.. yes,” She replied. “Tonight, tomorrow, the day after that... as long as you want me here then I won’t go anywhere.”

Zuko grinned, “Then you’ll be staying here for a long, long time.”

Y/N leaned down and planted a kiss on the crown of his head, “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

So they stayed, together in that bed, all tangled up. For the first time in forever, the nightmares didn’t come and Fire Lord Zuko got the best sleep of his life.

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buntycake · 4 years

Note

Hey I really liked your writing so I decided to send in a prompt. What do you think the brothers would only reveal about themselves to MC after a long time of dating? Maybe a different side of their personalities or an embarrassing interest? Thank you for the hard work 💕

I’m glad you like my writing! I hope you enjoy this headcanon.

What the Brothers Reveal to You After Dating You for a Long Time

Pride:

Lucifer never seems to struggle. True, he has his fits of irritation as he tries to run Devildom while bringing Diavolo’s machinations to fruition. Even so, to an outsider he always seems to have a plan Z for everything.

The first time you saw him in a less than orderly state was when he called you to his office during one of his all-nighters. It was three in the morning and he had asked you to bring him a coffee spiked with poison. (This would have been alarming to you if you hadn't lived in Devildom for quite some time.)

Hunched over his desk and surrounded by paperwork, he looked exhausted. He didn’t even take the time to save his coffee like usual. It was gone in one gulp. When you asked what was keeping him up so late, he told you about Lord Diavolo's new idea. It had him ripping hair out he tried to figured out how to implement it.

Though he tried to shoo you away, you sat with him until 6 am, when he finally called it quits. This became a semiregular occurrence. (You talked him out of his all-nighters when you could.) Just your presence is enough to make the process of figuring out the impossible better.

When you're more settled in your relationship, he'll start asking for your advice and help. It's hard to believe that someone as persnickety as Lucifer would allow someone to do a job that he could do better, but he trusts you.

It's not always about work either. The conversations you two have about his relationship with his brothers are when Lucifer seems the most vulnerable. He wants to be close with them, but struggles. You are one of the few people he allows to know that.

Greed:

Mammon being completely serious is still an uncommon occurrence in your relationship. He has his more reserved moments, sure, but not bouncing off the walls is not the same as having that solemn, focused look in his eyes.

There are really two occasions when this side of him comes out. One, when he's in DEEP trouble with the witches. You'll know that his debt with the witches has become serious when he's pacing the length of his room and muttering a string of numbers and calculations you can't follow.

Two, when he's trying to comfort someone, most often you. (After all, his brothers aren’t the type to admit when they’re feeling down.) There was once you had gotten to ruminating about the past. Those memories had whirl winded into something ugly. All your past regrets and embarrassments built up and weighed down on you until you began to cry.

Luckily or unluckily, Mammon came barging into your room at that time. He was ranting about some new opportunity for making money. In your melancholy daze, it was hard to remember. You must have looked awful because the switch was immediate.

Mammon gathered you in his arms and rubbed your back until you calmed down enough to talk. At first, he seemed agitated since he thought one of the brothers had done something to upset you. However, as you explained what happened he settled down. He was silent as you spoke and his eyes never left your face as if he was trying to gather up your every word and reaction.

Mammon is surprisingly insightful when he wants to be. What he said to you after your rant was thoughtful and wise – completely unlike his typical persona. You knew the typical fun-loving demon had returned when he said, "Anyway, forget about all that stuff. You have the Great Mammon looking out for you now."

Envy:

Levi is extremely capable. Being an otaku shut-in, it's an aspect of him that isn't immediately apparent and that you've probably only seen glimpses of.

Levi's ability to keep up with all things otaku, while perhaps not impressive to anyone outside of the anime community, is a testament to his persistence. And no matter what normies think, Levi isn't without ambition.

It's actually a little while into your relationship that he brings up an old goal of his: creating an otaku podcast. He was timid as he began to explain his vision to you, but about an hour in it was clear that he knew EXACTLY what he wanted to do. He just needed a little nudge.

After many reassures, some words of affirmation, and a pretty drawn out planning session, he got to work. For the next couple of months, he was busy - completely hyper focused on this goal.

He reached out to some smaller creators in the otaku community to find others interested in making a podcast. The two of you went searching for a place and some equipment to rent out. There were many late nights with just the two of you drafting up some beginning podcast topics.

Levi was a nervous mess before the first recording. You sat in on the first one just to be a calming presence, but in the end, you don’t think he needed it. He had a BLAST. Everyone seemed to play off each other so well.

When the podcast came out, it was a modest success. Those that liked it were begging for more. He was practically vibrating from excitement and overflowing with new ideas after that.

Levi undoubtedly did most of the leg work, but he'll insist to his last breath that it was all because of your support. To him, he can jump any hurdle with you by his side.

Wrath:

Satan is disgustingly romantic. For all the rage he can store in his body, honeyed words and sweet sentiments take their place there, too. Blame it on all the romance books he's read over the millenniums.

This aspect of him was probably the clearest during your dates, where he’ll take you to some unknown, but beautiful place. Even as you take in the environmental or astronomical wonders that Devildom offers, his eyes can’t seem to part from your form. It’s as if your existence is even more surreal.

This sentiment bleeds into your daily life the longer you're together. Most notably when you start finding small notes everywhere.

In the morning you found a note on your dresser, scrawled in his neat cursive. It read, “Your smile is as refreshing as the morning dew.” The smile in question appeared on your lips and you could almost see Satan’s amused smile in your mind.

Another note that said, “Your curiosity is something to be admired and feared,” had you giggling in the middle of RAD’s hallways. You got a few odd stares for that.

Surprise, surprise, there were more in your backpack, textbooks, around your room, everywhere. Each contained a small snapshot of his feelings about you.

At the end of the day, you found him tucked away in the library with a book like usual. When you asked him why he hid all those notes, he simply said, "So, that you would have at least one happy moment each day.”

Lust:

Asmo takes pride in his appearance, but more than that, fashion and beauty are a defensive mechanism. If he looks less than perfect, then there might be merit in what people say about him. They might have good reason to hate or resent him.

When he's at his most beautiful, he can pass those reactions off as people being envious of his perfection. It may seem like a small thing, but it's a privilege to see him before all the primping and preening.

So, when you woke up after one of your rendezvouses and found him still in bed, you were surprised. Usually, he was already up and about, wrapped in one of his silk robes.

He always looked like he woke up fashionably messy. Hair that was perfectly mussed, robe that was draped lazily over his shoulders, and eyes that seemed dewy with sleep, but the smell of bathing oils and perfume always gave away his morning preparations.

Seeing him with bedhead, rubbing at his bleary eyes, and yawning out morning breath was surreal. You thought you were dreaming until he pulled you closer and nuzzled into your chest. His lack of pretense went unmentioned for cuddles and an extra thirty minutes of sleep.

Every time he does this, know that he's choosing to be vulnerable with you. And perhaps more importantly, that he's opening himself up to your criticisms. Ones that he can't/won't deflect and will take to heart.

Gluttony:

Beel is rarely angry. As the peacemaker of the brothers, he's often the one pacifying the others. It doesn't leave him much room to express his own anger.

More than that, Beel doesn't like to hold grudges. It makes him feel guilty. There's already so much animosity among his brothers already; he doesn’t want to add to it.

You were really worried the first time he came to vent to you. He had entered your room a bit solemnly and gathered you into his arms. Then, he’d asked your permission to disclose something to you.

At first, you thought he was sad. Beel had commonly shared moments where he felt sad or upset, but this quiet simmering anger was new to you.

He started off quietly. It was lucky his mouth was right by your ear or else you'd have never heard what he was muttering. The whole rant started off with him confessing how frustrated he was with Lucifer for still withholding information and not leaning on the brothers for help.

As you nodded and encouraged him to go on, he got more confident. The conversation drifted away from Lucifer, to his qualms with the rest of the brothers. All of them for condescending his intelligence on a daily basis, Mammon for always going through everyone’s things, Asmo for constantly stealing his cake, and so on.

Beel had completely cooled off by the end of his rant and was a tad bit embarrassed. However, as he gets more comfortable venting, he'll let you know about small things that irritated him that day. It becomes like a daily confessional ritual between the two of you.

Sloth:

Belphie is notably cynical. However, this gets toned down by his aloof, sleepy persona. As adorable and soft as he is, he harbors numerous negative opinions of the world.

He doesn't trust easily and often expects the worst of people - demons, humans, angels, it doesn't matter. To his credit, when he isn’t blinded by his temper, he’s often right in his assessments. However, for Beel's sake, he typically suppresses this response.

With you, he feels he can air out his grievances. The first of these occurrences happened after a post-nap in the attic. The two of you were curled around each other and he began to let his woes slip out into the space between the two of you.

He talked about everything from his brothers to the exchange program to even his reservations about you. The dichotomy of Belphie cuddled into you, surrounded by a mountain of pillows while lamenting the woes of the world was frankly jarring. But when he finished, he seemed to sink deeper into your embrace like a weight had lifted off his shoulders.

As he continues to talk to you about all his less than optimistic views, they become a sort of philosophical debate between the two of you. There’s something satisfying about throwing each other’s ideals around and deconstructing them. More appealing to Belphie is that the two of you can have these conversations without judging each other (too much) or forcing your morals down the other’s throat.

#obey me #obey me swd #obey me headcanons #obey me imagines #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me levi #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me asmo #obey me beelzebub #obey me beel #obey me belphegor #obey me belphie #obey me gender neutral mc

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sapphirelycoris · 3 years

Text

𝑨 𝑩𝒂𝒕𝒕𝒍𝒆 𝑩𝒆𝒕𝒘𝒆𝒆𝒏 𝑨𝒓𝒓𝒐𝒈𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒆 & 𝑨𝒇𝒇𝒆𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔 𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒕: 𝑰

Rating: Teen

Warnings: Suggestive lines, pining (like a lot because Enji's a simp), enemies to lovers style writing, weird 19th century type dialogue but I think it's still readable. Please tell me if I missed any.

Ship: Enji Todoroki x female reader (she/her)

Word count: 2,707

Music: Pride & Prejudice Music & Ambiance

Author's note: I know some of the character's relationships with others are kind of weird but I casted them according to personality. For example, Ryuko reminds me of Charlotte Lucas and Nejire reminds me of her little sister, Maria. I just kind of threw names around haha... A NSFW and continuation soon to come. God, it's been a while since I posted anything on this blog.

Written/created for: @pleasantanathema's Through Ink and Quill | A Classics Collab

Summary: A Pride and Prejudice inspired piece, featuring Enji Todoroki as the male love interest. Loosely following the plot of the actual novel with a few twists on the actual story's dialogue, characters, & events. When you meet Mr. Enji Todoroki, he was the last man in the world you'd ever want to be around. However, as your paths cross more and more, you see that your first impression of him was inaccurate.

"The world works in mysterious ways. He doesn’t know what happened and when it began. Suddenly, Enji cannot stop longing to be in the same room with you. To go one more moment without you seemed like a sin or some unbearable divine punishment for his greatest flaw: pride."

𝑉𝑎𝑛𝑖𝑡𝑦 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑝𝑟𝑖𝑑𝑒 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑑𝑖𝑓𝑓𝑒𝑟𝑒𝑛𝑡 𝑡𝘩𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠, 𝑡𝘩𝑜𝑢𝑔𝘩 𝑡𝘩𝑒 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑𝑠 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑜𝑓𝑡𝑒𝑛 𝑢𝑠𝑒𝑑 𝑠𝑦𝑛𝑜𝑛𝑦𝑚𝑜𝑢𝑠𝑙𝑦. 𝐴 𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑠𝑜𝑛 𝑚𝑎𝑦 𝑏𝑒 𝑝𝑟𝑜𝑢𝑑 𝑤𝑖𝑡𝘩𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑏𝑒𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑣𝑎𝑖𝑛. 𝑃𝑟𝑖𝑑𝑒 𝑟𝑒𝑙𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑠 𝑚𝑜𝑟𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑜𝑝𝑖𝑛𝑖𝑜𝑛 𝑜𝑓 𝑜𝑢𝑟𝑠𝑒𝑙𝑣𝑒𝑠; 𝑣𝑎𝑛𝑖𝑡𝑦, 𝑡𝑜 𝑤𝘩𝑎𝑡 𝑤𝑒 𝑤𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝘩𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑜𝑡𝘩𝑒𝑟𝑠 𝑡𝘩𝑖𝑛𝑘 𝑜𝑓 𝑢𝑠. -𝐽𝑎𝑛𝑒 𝐴𝑢𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑛

The world works in mysterious ways. He doesn’t know what happened and when it began. Suddenly, Enji cannot stop longing to be in the same room with you. He dreamed about the sight of your eyes, glancing at him with mild contempt. You occupied his thoughts, both innocent and indecent… He was going to go mad if you didn’t share the same affections that he did. He didn’t want you. Not at all. He needed you by his side. To go one more moment without you seemed like a sin or some unbearable divine punishment for his greatest flaw: pride.

When he blatantly insulted you at the first gathering he attended and saw you laugh about it with Ryuko, for once, he felt uneasy. The same woman he had slighted was now the one who controlled him. He noticed the way you looked embarrassed at your family’s antics. It disgusted him that he was obsessing over someone with that kind of background.

It certainly shocked Enji when you stood him up at Sir Yorio’s gathering. How dare you! For him to stoop down and offer to dance with you, only for you to reject him, was truly offensive. A woman far below his social status, refusing to stand up with him. The nerve.

Every single snarky quip that left your lips swam around in his mind. Your sharp tongue was attractive. The moment he saw you with mud on your dress, walking from your home to Toshinori’s country estate, he was taken aback. For some reason, he couldn’t get rid of that image. The sun hit your face perfectly, creating an enchanting glow that accompanied your delightful countenance.

“Ms. (L/N).” Your name rolled off his lips so naturally.

The regrettable moment you had to leave Toshinori’s estate, he helped you into the carriage which would take you home. Something transpired, far beyond his comprehension. Your hand fit so perfectly in his, he couldn’t help but want it to stay there forever. The missing piece to a puzzling man such as himself finally found its way to its rightful spot. It seemed you wished for the same thing. His grip was secure, he felt safe, and you were trapped, staring into the most beautiful cerulean eyes. At the same time, Enji could drown in your eyes forever. The confused look you gave him was endearing when he refused to let go.

His actions also startled him. Why was he so stuck on you? He flexed his hand, imagining that yours never left as he watched the carriage shrink, moving further from the manor and into the distance. When was the next time he would be allowed to see you? What was it going to take to cure this infatuation?

≿━━━━༺❀༻━━━━≾

The next time he saw you, was under more unfortunate circumstances. He was riding downtown with Toshinori when he spotted your little party. Unlike his friend, Enji looked unhappy when he saw who you were talking with. You briefly exchanged eye contact with him before he had a clear look of disdain displayed on his face.

Keigo’s eyes followed yours. He tipped his hat, but Enji made no attempt to return the friendly gesture. He hurried away on his horse without saying a word. The encounter was certainly unusual. Keigo looked discomforted by the interaction. You wondered what could have transpired between the two men that caused such tension.

That night, at your aunt’s home, you sat down and heard what Keigo had to say about his reunion with Enji. He told his side of the story. He painted Enji as the villain in his narrative. Seeing as how you already found the man so disagreeable, you couldn’t help but believe Keigo’s words. He was much more forthcoming than his old friend; he didn’t seem capable of telling a lie. This new story caused you to see Enji in a new light, only deepening your dislike for the man.

≿━━━━༺❀༻━━━━≾

Toshinori was a man of his word and held the ball that he promised your sisters. Enji was less unenthusiastic than he usually was. Knowing that he’d get to see you there was the night’s one redeeming feature. He was excited at the thought of getting to lay his eyes on you once more, and it sickened him.

Many of the officers were attending the ball. While linking arms with Toshinori and walking around the ballroom, you searched for Keigo among the redcoats the officers wore. Instead of finding him, you found a pair of familiar blue eyes that looked at you with well-hidden passion and yearning. Enji wanted to tear you away from Toshinori’s arms and have you all to himself. He had many selfish desires, and he usually got what he wanted, but you were the exception.

Women fawned over him, trying to get a taste of his money. Even Rei tried being overly friendly with him. He cared little for them; he wasn’t looking to fall in love. He was not in search of a wife. Enji was quite content with the life he had. Everything he wanted was in his grasp. But you? You were so close yet so far. There was an uncomfortable amount of emotional space between you and he wanted to close it. Being in the same room wasn’t enough anymore. He wanted to touch you, feel your skin, claim those alluring lips for himself. He wanted to see your whole being without any pesky fabric in the way. If only he could rip that dress off of your body after forcefully pulling you into a vacant bedroom.

He made his way over to you, but an officer blocked his view. He informed you that Keigo would not be in attendance. Part of it was because of an assignment he had to do, but he also wanted to avoid a certain man… Your younger sisters drug the officer away, leaving you alone in the middle of a crowded room.

Fortunately, you spotted Ryuko, who was standing alone in the corner. You went to inform her of everything that had happened lately. An unwelcome guest interrupted you.

“Ryuko, may I introduce you to my cousin, Mr. Tobita?” While remaining civil, you introduced them to each other. He took your hand and led you to dance. As it turns out, the man can’t dance. He went the wrong way, bumping into another lady. It was embarrassing, to say the least.

Enji watched in amusement as he saw you struggle to keep a smile. You made eye contact with him again, almost sending him a look of desperation. Dancing with him would be better than your current situation. He simply smirked and waltzed around the room, observing everyone.

While you were busy venting to Ryuko, the very man you were talking about came up to you. The two of you exchanged glances and bowed. “If you are not otherwise engaged, would you do me the honor of dancing the next with me?” Enji’s odd invitation made your eyes widen slightly.

There was no way out of it. You tried coming up with an excuse, but nothing came to mind. He smiled slyly as you fumbled over your words. “I- well I hadn’t... yes. Thank you…” With no escape, you were trapped. He walked off, and you lingered behind for a minute.

“You’d be a fool if you didn’t take him up on his offer. It’s a great compliment that he singled you out.” Ryuko commented.

“The last time he singled me out was to slander me. Hateful man…” you hissed before going to follow him.

As the music started to play, you studied Enji’s face. It was the first time you’d ever really taken the time to analyze all of his features. You hated to admit it, but he was handsome. Unusually handsome.

Finally, your hand had made its way back into his. Even if it was only for a brief moment, that feeling would stick with him until the end of the night. The two of you danced around with your words, conversing back and forth when the time was appropriate. You simply couldn’t bear the silence.

Couples pranced around the dance floor elegantly, stepping where they needed to. You two moved in sync, never letting your eyes wander. There was a burning passion for the man that you couldn’t get rid of. Whether it was burning hatred, lust, or love, you couldn’t tell. Hostility and tension seemed to be all that came out of your encounters with him. The sexual tension was the one thing that kept you from completely despising Enji and you hated it.

In an attempt to rile him up, you remarked on Keigo and the last time Enji saw you. “The last time I was in town, I was forming a new acquaintance.” A sly grin spread across your face as the words came out.

“Mr. Takami’s friendly personality is what allows him to make friends so easily. Though his ability to keep them is debatable.”

“How unfortunate he must be, to lose your friendship, a loss I am sure he will regret for the rest of his life.” You mocked in an airy and hushed tone. Before Enji could snap back, Mr. Toyomitsu came over to hint at a marriage between your sister and Toshinori. The two of you glanced at the smiling pair before dancing again. “Didn’t you say that you rarely ever forgave? That your hatred, once set in stone, was set indefinitely? Surely a man such as yourself is careful when breeding such hatred.”

“Of course I am.” Enji scoffed.

“And I presume you do not let prejudice blind you?”

“No. What is the purpose of these questions, if I may ask?” He grumbled, disliking your inquiries.

“Simply a means to figure out your constitution.” You laughed, “Trying to get a good idea of your character.”

“And your findings?”

“None. I have heard of you on different accounts by different people with different views of you. You shall remain a mystery until I comprehend you.”

With the dance ending, Enji remained silent. Once the music faded, he supported your hand as you lightly held it over his. “I request that you do not attempt to perceive my character right now. It would do us no favors if you judged wrong.” He claimed as you left the dance floor.

“I may not get another opportunity, so I might as well try while I have the chance.”

Enji placed himself right next to you and leaned to whisper in your ear. He lowered his voice, making sure only you could hear. “I would by no means suspend any pleasure of yours.” His finger brushed against your arm as he walked away. All the heat in your body rushed to that spot. You wanted his warmth against your skin, you didn’t want him to go.

And yet, you were standing alone in the corner of a crowded room, fixated on the man who you swore to never like.

≿━━━━༺❀༻━━━━≾

Much had happened over a short amount of time. You had rejected Mr. Tobita’s marriage proposal and got an earful from your mother. Keigo got engaged to a rich young lady, and Ryuko had gotten engaged to Mr. Tobita. Enji and Toshinori’s party had left his estate, and your sister was disheartened. Everyone had such high expectations for her and Toshinori, only for him to up and leave.

Now, you were on your own adventure. You, Sir Yorio, and Nejire were going to visit her and Mr. Tobita. They lived in a small house on Lady Chiyo’s property. Greenery grew on the stone, adding to the natural feel of the house. It was a quaint little grey structure with a clear blue sky in the background.

As soon as the carriage stopped, Ryuko and her husband rushed out the door to greet you. They showed you to your rooms while Mr. Tobita kept on about Lady Chiyo’s house and how grand it was. It seemed he was more in love with Chiyo than his own wife.

“Are you happy here?” You asked Ryuko as you watched the other three walk around the garden.

“I am quite content with my situation. I barely see him during the day. He sits in his book room, walks to Lady Chiyo’s every day, and-”

“And you prefer to sit in your own wing of the house.” You finished. Whether it was what she was going to say or not, you stated your mind. Ryuko smiled wistfully, “Yes.”

≿━━━━༺❀༻━━━━≾

While you and Ryuko were walking through the woods, along with Nejire, Mr. Tobita came running after you. He was clearly out of breath but told you his news, anyway. Enji and his cousin, Kugo, had arrived. He urged you to make your way back to the house, since they wanted to visit with them.

“Pleasure to finally meet you Ms. (L/N).” Kugo smiled.

“Oh? ‘Finally’, sir?”

“My cousin speaks of you often.” He informed.

“Ah…” You sighed, looking over at Enji who met your gaze, only hungrier.

Enji’s eyes never left you, though. There was a protective aura emitting from him. Just in case Kugo spoke or acted out of line, he was ready to come to your aid at any moment. He rested his knuckles against his mouth. Instead of addressing anyone else in the room, he was intently watching and listening to your conversation.

“Pray tell, why is Mr. Todoroki staring at me?” You asked Kugo, having enough of being watched over like you were some kind of prey, “Have I done or said something he finds offensive?”

The man stood up from the sofa and meandered over to the table you were seated at. He had no control of his own actions. It was quite an impulsive move, and now he didn’t know what to say. “How is your family?” He choked out.

“Well.” You replied, “My sister has been in town for quite some time. Have you happened to see her?”

“No.” Enji lied, “Unfortunately not.”

“As you can tell, Mr. Todoroki and I are not very close.”

“Really? I find that hard to believe.” Kugo exclaimed.

“Truly? I believe in first impressions, however, Mr. Todoroki’s good opinion, once lost, is lost forever.” Your words caused him to turn around, and he saw your smiling face, making a joke of him.

≿━━━━༺❀༻━━━━≾

The grounds of Lady Chiyo’s property were breathtaking. When the weather allowed, you took advantage of the sprawling greenery and went out for as many walks as you could. Without a cloud in the sky, an endless sea of blue, and shining sun, you wasted no time in getting outside. It was much more productive and enjoyable than sitting in the house.

A beautiful little trail, hidden by the estate’s magnificent trees, was the path you found yourself walking along. You looked up to admire how tall the trees had grown. They stood proud and provided you with shade. The birds sang a lovely little tune, supplying you with a unique sound that rivaled that of the best musicians.

Enji came trotting through the path from the side. He halted his horse once he saw you. No painting could do you justice, even one made by the best painter in the world could compare to your beauty in person. The sight of you admiring the picture in front of you made his heart pound. Though you said nothing, he believed that you, taking the time to simply look at him, was the greatest compliment he would ever receive.

And for those few precious minutes, he drank in your appearance. He was hopelessly in love with you. Being in your presence was the best part of his day. He found himself looking forward to seeing you. He always prayed for you to cross paths with him. Even if he simply caught a glimpse of you, suddenly it brightened his entire day.

Unfortunately, he had other things to do. Enji spurred his horse forward and trotted away. Your presence in his life was much bigger than he expected when he first met you. And somehow… he didn’t mind it. He hated yet loved the feeling of being in love.

#endeavor x reader #bnha endeavour #endeavor #todoroki enji #enji todoroki x reader #todoroki endeavor #enji x reader #enji x you #19th century #shitty writing but it's something #I kind of hate this but I hate everything I write #my hero academia enji #endeavor x y/n #I am disgusted at myself for being so late to submit this for the collab #Pleasantanathema forgive me.#What's up with the shitty title #not proof read forgive the shitty grammar and punctuation

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lihikainanea · 2 years

Note

Hi so first I wanna say I love your blog and your writing and maybe your personal posts even more because I relate to them a lot. I wanted to vent something and even though I know you you are not a fan of Alexander I know you’re a good listener. So apparently he was dating this Swedish actress for 3 years and no one new but bunch of old fans who refuse to share the informations with except to say that they are dating. What makes me sad is that one feel excluded just because they are fans since 15 years or whatever years and that’s not fair. Ngl I love to gossip as long as it’s light but no one wants to say a word. I don’t like when some fans act superior like this. Second thing is how can Alexander and another actress date that long with no photos of them together except for 3 non decisive pics? Is that weird or not? Lastly and I am embarrassed to ask you this but how do you write these lovely stories about bill amid not get attached to them ? How do you separate the the fiction from your reality? If you don’t feel like answering this that’s fine it is enough for me you listened to me. Have a god day lovely 😊

hi baby <3 thank you so much for this.

I'm sorry the other fandom is being weird, I don't know why they wouldn't share the information, unless the "old fans" were actually friends of his or something?

In terms of no photographs of them for 3 years....I think that's possible. Unless you're the calibre of Taylor Swift or Beyonce, paparazzi really don't stalk the majority of celebrities. Sometimes they hang out at LAX but 99.9999% of the time, if somebody like the Skarsgards are photographed "candidly", it's because the paps were called by the celebrity's team. I'd bet he's also probably pretty careful in public, so any photos of him that fans took would probably be indecisive at best. He seemed to be pretty into PDA with Alexa Chung but all of those pics were pretty staged, and it was evident that Alex knew the paps were there.

As far as separating fiction from reality--I don't know, it never really bothered me. To me it's no different than writing for any one of Bill's characters--the dude that I write is a character. It's my perception of how I'd like Bill to be, the way I want him to act. I've said it many times that writing is therapy for me, and when I'm stuck in my own head and can't figure something out, often times I'll write it out with Bill and tiger and it helps me gauge how I really feel about something.

The way I write Bill may be spot on and he may have an identical personality. He may be completely different. It doesn't really matter--this version of him is mine, and I can do whatever I want with him. He's no different than a character in any move he's played.

I know fandoms can be tough though, babes. I know sometimes it's hard to reconcile and make sense of all of it in our brains. But fandoms should always be a safe place that we can escape into, somewhere we can ignore the real world, because you never know what people are running from or what they need a reprieve from. We all have demons.

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quarantined-with-bucky · 4 years

Text

Good Together

Bucky x Reader

Words: ~ 9,300 (sorry!)

Summary: You and Bucky have a very tumultuous relationship -- but you’re good together.

Warnings: Smut!! Angst maybe.

A/N: Inspired by “Good Together” by SHY Martin. This is my first time writing smut, so please let me know what you think and I’m so sorry if this is terrible!! Just let me knoowwww also sorry for making it so long!

...

I've been working on myself and on my patience But sometimes that shit don't come easy And I see you've been tryin' your best to give me explanations But words don't really cut it lately

“Buck, would you just listen to me,” you spat, emphasizing the last three words, shaking your hands in significance. He continued calmly putting the dishes away; you knew it was a façade: his relaxed shoulders, plain face, raised eyebrows – all a ruse to make him look like a victim. “Turn around.”

He spun quickly on his heel, still holding the clean plate in his hand, facing you with a strong tone of expectation: expectation that you had something really fucking good to say if you had to interrupt him putting the dishes away, especially since you ask him every day to help out with the chores. “Yes, dear?”

You rolled your eyes almost immediately as the term of less-than-endearment slipped off his tongue. “Listen to what I’m saying – ”

“I can multitask, (Y/N), thank you very much.” He continues on his merry way unloading the dishwasher, turning his back to you once again.

You shut your eyes and took a deep breath. An inhale and exhale through your mouth; so quiet yet you’re sure he heard you. Focus, you thought to yourself, shutting your eyes and finding your peace. He wants you to snap. You took another deep breath, craning your neck in a circle, listening as the top of your vertebrae cracks with a loud pop! “All I’m saying,” you begin smoothly, “is that you need to stop acting like a baby.”

He scoffs, eyebrows raising in doubt. “What part of this is being a baby, (Y/N); enlighten me.” Patronizing fuck.

You swore that talking to him took more patience than raising a puppy – hell, at least the puppy would learn to listen to you. “You’re always like acting like the victim; such a martyr. I try to bring up one thing with you – have an adult discussion – and suddenly you act like it’s all my fault and that I’m crazy? Like I’m the bad guy here.”

You can feel him roll his eyes through the back of his head. He shrugs. “Look, (Y/N), all I was saying was that you were bitchin’ over nothin’ – all I did was apologize.”

You actually laughed arrogantly, reminding him what he stated earlier, laying the sarcasm on as heavily as he did: “oh, I’m so sorry, (Y/N). Sorry that I have eyes and like to use them to look around.” You narrowed your eyes at him, finally gaining his full attention as he fisted the cutlery. “Sorry, how does having eyes justify you eye-fucking the girl behind me?”

“I wasn’t even staring – ”

And you snapped. In his defense, you maybe sounded a little shrill when you flipped out at him; your voice did, in fact, raise about twelve octaves. “You were literally undressing her with your eyes, James.” You threw up your hands in the air, exaggerating a groan as your head dropped back. “You probably have x-ray vision, don’t you?” You accused, almost jokingly. But as he narrowed his eyes as he hesitated to say something back, searching his mind for the proper response – but you were too fast. “You fucking do, don’t you, you piece of shit. Of course – ”

The sound of shattering glass cut you off immediately. You opened your eyes and straightened your stance to be faced with Bucky, butter knife in his hand, and a plate, split perfectly in half, sitting on the counter beside him. His blue eyes were squeezed tight in control, his flesh hand gripping the knife so hard that his knuckles had gone white. You stared at the porcelain dinner plate, feignedly wondering if that’s what he wanted to do to you.

Deep down, you knew he would never lay a hand on you; he always insisted on throwing or breaking something when he became so frustrated with his anger – with you. He’d gone so far as to throw a lamp at the wall (in the opposite direction of you, of course); thus, showing his intention to release his anger and not an intention to hurt you. The two of you had been working on different ways to channel his anger; however, as he stated: he was used to a life of destruction, so that’s how he vented. He found that it got the job done: it got you to shut the fuck up.

“I don’t have x-ray vision, don’t be a child about it.” His voice was surprisingly calm, especially considering how he still hadn’t put the knife down. “I wasn’t even starting. I glanced at her – in her direction.”

This wasn’t the first time you’d had this conversation, though. That’s the issue that he didn’t comprehend. You let out a sigh, speaking calmer than you had all night. “Bucky, I’m just sick of having this same conversation, please,” you pleaded, taking a step closer. He remained silent and still, eyeing you as you approached him. “I feel like I’m not asking for much.” Stop staring at other girls while you’re on a date with me: not much. It was not only infuriating, it was embarrassing.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, putting the knife on the counter beside the pieces of plate, turning his head down. “I didn’t mean to be doing it. I just get distracted.” His voice was quiet, almost child-like as it rose in inflection.

You were torn. You could believe what he was saying, hoping that this time he’d actually be telling the truth: you knew he had a short attention span, and he did have a tendency to space out a lot. But you were caught between believing that and the fact he had spaced out in the direction of a girl with a significantly low-cut blouse. These other times, he liked to play the victim-card, blaming his less-than-appealing tendencies on his poorer qualities that, technically, nobody could refute him having.

You’d learned to read through his words, though. And this time, it was the latter.

Remember when our love was precious We thought what we had was the best, yeah Now every answer's a question Like every night is one of us is getting aggressive The other one's acting possessive Guess it's the way that we do shit now

Your fights had grown frequent.

Your relationship had grown volatile.

Not that it wasn’t based on your tumultuous roots – but it had just gotten so much worse lately.

This relationship started off fairly normal, however, the cherished affair the two of you shared quickly became tainted through the media. Countless news outlets had gotten word of the coupling instantaneously, leaving the two of you swamped with paparazzi and yelling passerby’s every time either of you left your houses. It was quite the shock that James Buchanan Barnes had a girlfriend – a regular girlfriend, too; a non-Avenger. People were quick to sell you out, too. Close friends and even some family selling information about your relationship (and even just material about you) to make a quick buck.

It had gotten the best of the both of you early on. Bucky was tired of being constantly followed and photographed. He was a man who had grown used to solitude and, while he was slowly but surely adapting to twenty-first century life and everything that came along with that, all of the flashing lights and constant yelling made him want to climb into a hole and live in the dark forever.

You, similarly, were extremely unaccustomed to this. Suddenly, you were on the cover of magazines, reading articles about yourself in People & Us magazines, scrolling through stories of yourself on Snapchat. Old friends, people from college, even some work colleagues sold stories about you to the tabloids. Maybe some of the resentment that you held towards them reflected upon Bucky. You didn’t think about it often, but maybe there was a correlation – an unfair correlation, obviously. Your hatred on the outside world didn’t equate to hatred towards Bucky, but you still aimed it towards him quite a bit.

Bucky, never slow to defend himself, returned said animosity right back at you. The two of you picked each other apart until you were both bloody and raw.

Tonight was no different.

The entire evening, meant to be romantic, turned into a fight. You both intended for event at Stark Industries to be uneventful: a night of mingling with friends, reminiscing in old stories, and drinking expensive champagne. It started off halfway decent, that is, until you started meeting more of the people that worked at the Tower.

You had no problem hanging out with the rest of the Avengers – especially Sam, who you bonded with through teasing Bucky (nothing but love, of course), but when it came to meeting a couple other supporting agents, you were a little out of you element.

Take, for example, Agent Toller, who came up to you and Bucky early on, greeting him kindly with a hug and introducing herself to you with a handshake. “Nice to meet you, (Y/N)! Bucky’s told me so much about you!” You smiled genuinely at her statement, responding and continuing the conversation. It, of course, came to a point where she slung her arm around his and stated matter-of-factly: “You better keep him locked up. I know a lot of ladies wanting to get their hands on him.”

Your lungs deflated. Including herself, apparently. “I’ll do my best,” you reply through gritted teeth.

Then there was Agent Rivers, who straight off the bat ignored you. She came up to Bucky telling him she finally mastered the thigh-grip, a move, she later clarified, made notorious through Black Widow. “All that time in the gym finally paid off, huh,” Bucky teased.

“I couldn’t have done it without you,” she beamed back, touching a hand to his arm.

He rolled his eyes playfully, chuckling. “Please, just playing the dummy – as usual.”

She merrily smacked his arm, grinning. “Don’t say that, Buck.”

You stood next to Bucky, staring up at the man blankly. Rivers trotted off once she caught wind of you glaring at Bucky. Plucking another glass of champagne from the passing server, you took a long sip, finally asking: “So, Buck, what would be your part in her mastering this thigh grip?” It was a bit condescending, a little irked, and extremely sarcastic. The image of her perfect legs around your boyfriends neck did not sit right with you.

Was he more of a flirt than you remembered? It had been ages since he’s properly flirted with you. It was nothing to get angsty about; its not like you had anything to truly worry about. He came home every evening, spent the night in your bed with you; save for when he went on missions, but surely, he wasn’t accompanied by any women you had to worry about, at least – Natasha and Wanda had your full confidence. But it wasn’t the women that bothered you; you shouldn’t have to worry about Bucky. No matter how many beautiful, strong, talented women flirted with him, he should shut them down – not flirt back literally in front of you.

A few more introductions played out exactly like that, so a few more glasses of champagne were necessary for you to get through the evening. At one point you actually started having a good time. You’d left Bucky to chat with the boys while you found sanctuary in your girlfriends off to the side. You were able to air out your grievances, confidential information falling onto open ears. They took your mind off it by bringing up their own drama, in which you all openly made jokes and critiques, the liquor now fully streaming through all of your bloodstreams.

Once the party started to clear out and even some of the Avengers began to leave, Bucky swooped by your pow-wow and wrapped his arm around your waist, whispering a quiet “ready to go?” in your ear. You and Bucky walked out with Sam and his girlfriend, chatting casually.

As you expected, as soon as the pair spilt off from you two, everything fell silent. Not the good silent: the silence that swirled around you two as your gazed at stars together, the silence as you laid napping in each other’s arms on the couch, the silence that comforted him after a nightmare, accompanied by your fingers curling through his hair. No; this was the silence filled with tension; it was the kind of silence that you’d rather die than have to ride home in the car with him not talking to you.

You bit your lip when you brought it up.

He actually laughed, one hand gripping the steering wheel, the other resting loosely on his lap. He turned his head to you momentarily, a glint in his eye as his smile mocked you. “What on earth are you talking about?”

“They’re all throwing themselves at you!” You clarify, exasperated, throwing your hands in your lap, turning towards him underneath your seatbelt.

“I can’t help that, can I?” He shrugged it off, turning back to the road, reclining farther in his seat, biting his bottom lip to stop himself from smiling. Smug bastard.

“Yes, James. It’s called personal space and we all have it.” You spoke slowly, enunciating each work clearly. “It would really kill you to tell these girls to stop touching you?” He pulled into a parking spot in front of your apartment and got out of the car without even letting you finish. You followed suit, trialing him up the few steps to the front door. “Every single woman you talked to had her hands all over you.”

He shoves the door open, leaving it wide open for you. “I wasn’t touching them, was I?” He ran his hands through his hair, pulling it back. He groaned and pulled at the tips, acting as if any sort of physical torture would be more preferable to this conversation. “No, my hand was on you the whole entire time, (Y/N). It’s not an issue.”

You slammed the door, crossing your arms over your chest. “Really?” You questioned, tone and volume raising significantly. “So, you don’t care about them touching you in front of your girlfriend? It’s not an issue? Forget it just pissing me off – you don’t think that was fucking embarrassing for me?”

He shrugged earnestly, raising his eyebrows and pursing his lips.

Taking a page out of his book, you pick up the closest thing in arms-length: the half-empty wine bottle you’d left on the table from earlier. You don’t intentionally aim for Bucky, but maybe you weren’t seeing as clearly as you thought you were. It narrowly swipes past him as you drive it into the wall, only marginally missing him because he took a step sideways. His eyes are wide momentarily, turning his head from the large red splotch dripping down the white wall back to focus on you. Instantly, his posture changes: he’s standing upright, more alert – no longer seeing you as annoying instead of nonthreatening; his chest puffs out, his eyebrows knit together, lips pressed into a firm line as he glowers at you. “What. The. Fuck.” His teeth are barred, the words coming out bitterly.

“Oh,” you scoffed, unable to hide the smirk forming on your lips. “You don’t like it when I do it to you?” If you were in his position, you’d want to slap yourself. You were only taunting the beast, speaking to him in such a patronizing tone. You couldn’t help yourself, though; it was finally a taste of his own medicine: to be treated like a child. You bit your lip, trying to smother the smile pulling your lips as you watched with half-lidded eyes as he strutted towards you.

“You don’t fucking talk to me like that.”

You raised your eyebrows in challenge. “Says who?”

He stares down at you, another stride forward, consuming all the space left between the both of you. Taking one more step, he backs you into the wall. Your shoulder blades make contact with the cold plaster. “I do.” His voice was rough, about six octaves lower than usual, volume barely above a whisper, yet so much anger in his tone. You laugh, breathing out, sneering at him. “You better wipe that smile off those pretty little lips.” His voice did not waver; there was no inflection nor cadence of amusement.

Your smirk does not faulter. “Make me.” His metal hand snakes around the base of your throat, squeezing the sides of your neck. He watches in amusement as your smile quickly drops into an open mouth, gasping as you struggle to take in a sharp breath in shock.

His hips press into yours, hip bones jamming into each other’s. His breath tickles the shell of your ear as he leans in closer to you, chest against chest. “Not so funny now, is it, baby?”

You and me we never say we're sorry Hands around my body Fucking 'til we're good Fucking 'til we're good And we promise we'll do better Both go down together Fucking 'til we're good

You stare up at him under your eyelashes and focus all your energy on inhaling and exhaling through your nose – this wasn’t your first rodeo.

He watches you, jaw tense, flexing at the sharp contour under his ears. You feel his angered breath as it warms the air over your nose. He grinds his hips up against yours, just moving ever so slightly, pushing his thigh in between your legs. You narrow your eyes at him, clenching your own jaw and huffing out a sharp breath. Your hands flew up to his metal forearm to have something you could hold onto as your oxygen left your lungs.

He leans in once again to whisper in your ear. “What’s that, baby?” He coos condescendingly. He kisses the spot just under your earlobe, the sensitive skin sending a jolt through your body. He trails a few more kisses under your jaw, just above his hand; each kiss becoming progressively longer and sloppier. He makes his way to your other ear, now pressing his lips right up against the cartilage. “You got more to say to me?” His metal fingers and his left leg. His thigh hitches farther up, you’re now practically sitting on his leg – trying to stabilize yourself on your tiptoes. His fingers squeeze your throat, causing you to shut your eyes as you release the breath from your lungs with a whine. He hums in response – you can feel his smile pressing into your skin. “That’s what I thought.”

Your eyes open at the sudden loss of contact as his grip loosens and he shifts back in front of you, face-to-face. He stares at you through the dark strands of hair that had fallen loose in front of his face, his eyes dark and clouded over with lust. You imagine you looked the same way, completely disheveled, staring up at him with nothing but desire. Your legs clench around his thigh, pulling yourself farther down onto his muscle-bound leg.

Bucky leans down, slowly diving in for the kiss.

But he stops too soon, his bottom lip just brushing yours. You try to meet him halfway, struggling against the sturdy grip on your throat. You can’t help but groan, eyebrows pulling together in need as he beams down at your joyfully. “You wanna tell me what you need, baby?”

“Touch me,” you whine, hips now moving ever so slightly against his thigh. You couldn’t move much, considering you were barely balanced on there, but you could manage.

“Touch you?” He questioned, quickly swooping forward, pressing his lips to yours chastely. As soon as you tilted your head to deepen the kiss, he tore himself far enough from your lips to speak in a hushed tone: “Touch you like those girls were touching me?”

Fuck. Immediately without thinking, you release his forearm where your hands previously rested, pushing back on his chest as hard as you absolutely could. He stumbled back a couple steps, completely taken off guard. God, you were so hot when you were aggressive like that. He loved pushing you to your breaking point: to the point where you’d begin to assert yourself towards him. He loved when you stood up to him, reeling in anger, just so he could take charge and show you who was boss.

It was an adrenaline rush for him.

For you, too.

You stood before him, fists clenched in rage, staring at him. He was just barely smirking, eyelids half shut, a hungry look on his face. Ever the challenge, he would conquer you.

You nearly jumped when he pounced, taking him up against you, legs twined around his back, arms locked behind his neck. His tongue was hot on yours, meeting in a seething hot kiss. His hands immediately palmed at your ass underneath your cocktail dress that had now ridden up to pool at your waist.

As he began up the stairs towards the bedroom, you broke the kiss – with a displeased groan from Bucky – and laid a sloppy trail of kisses and licks along his throat and to his ear. You pressed an open-mouthed kiss to the corner of his jaw (his weak spot), touching your tongue to his hot skin, following it with another kiss. His steps stuttered, his knees buckling as he took the next step. He groaned deep somewhere in the back of his throat, pinching your ass, a quick slap ensuing afterwards as he regained his footing and kicked open the bedroom door.

He tossed you on the bed, wasting no time in grabbing the back collar of his shirt, pulling it over his head and onto the floor in one swift motion, completely disregarding the row of buttons sewed along the front. You took the hint, shimmying off your tight dress while laying on the mattress. He followed suit with his pants and underwear off next. As soon as the cool bedroom air hit his body, he was throwing himself on top of you, pulling your dress off the rest of the way and unhooking your bra. He discarded your underwear next, pitching it over his shoulder, fingers immediately finding your pussy and sinking in.

He took you by surprise, eyes squeezing shut and knees involuntarily closing together. Bucky used his hand to hold one leg down, prying them apart completely. He looked between his hand – his fingers pushing in and out of you completely soaked – and your face – eyebrows knitted together and mouth hanging open. He didn’t know which view he liked better. “Shit, baby, you been this wet the whole time?”

That was the thing about Bucky – he was a talker. If he wasn’t egging you on, then he was filling the room with his vulgar commentary and dirty talk. He added another finger, pumping in and out of you faster, obscene sounds blocking out anything and everything he said. He moved his metal hand from your knee to your clit, rubbing in slow circles, contrasting to his other movements. His metal hand was great – sensitive, temperature resistant; better than his flesh hand – but, god, there was something about feeling your wet cunt on his own skin drove him crazy.

You gasped, quickly biting your lip in anticipation of your orgasm. “Oh yeah, baby? That feel good?” He huffed, thumb whirling on your clit faster. He hunched to lay a kiss on your breast, meeting you hallway sitting-up to capture his lips with yours. You released the sheets you’d been clutching, instead opting to fist his hair, pulling his mouth hungrily to yours. As your body throbbed and your pussy clenched around his fingers, you moan into his mouth, falling back onto the bed.

Bucky sat upright on the bed and watched you as you laid on the bed completely blissed out; hair splayed across the mattress around your head, chest heaving up and down, legs shut – shaking – but knees pulled together, arms once pulling taught at his hair now limp on either side of you.

He waited patiently for about forty-five seconds for you to open your eyes. As soon as you did – without enough time for your eyes to even focus on him, he grabbed your waist, flipping you on the bed, gripping your hips to pull you ass to his face. He truly was a face-down ass-up kind of guy. Not that you minded.

You squeaked, burying your face in the sheets as his hand slapped your ass; his palm following to rub away the burning hot sensation it left behind. You felt his tongue drag a long line up from your clit to your tight hole, taking extra note to curl inside your leaking pussy.

Bucky wasted no more time in straightening up and giving his cock a few pumps, smearing his precum all the way down to the base. He grabbed your hip in one hand, guiding his dick to drive into you with the other. He sighed, your soaking wet, tight cunt squeezing him as he pounded into you from behind. He took hold of both your hips, balancing himself on his knees, pulling you backwards on his dick as he rifled his hips forward.

His momentum drove him forward, nearly folding on top of you, your ass pushed dangerously high in the air, tits and face pressed firmly into the mattress, muffling the sounds that escaped you every time the tip of his cock drove into you. His metal hand remained gripping your hipbone, his other palm pressing flat into the curve at the small of your back, pressing your arch deeper and ass further up as your ribcage met the top of the mattress.

He pounded relentlessly into you, the tiniest change in position making your pussy even tighter around him. “Take it,” he growled through gritted teeth. “Take my fucking dick, baby.” You couldn’t help but release a short breathy moan every time his dick brushed against the very edge of your cervix.

Bucky gathered a fistful of your hair in his metal hand, half slipping out, the other half tangled dangerously in between the death grip of his fingers. He hauled you up, causing you to yelp as you tried desperately to push yourself up. He never let go of your hair, instead using it as a vice to keep your back pressed firmly against his sweaty chest, yelping as he did so.

The pain subsided quickly as his other hand found your still sensitive clit, rubbing it with fast, loose circles. You dropped your head, no longer resisting him pulling it back, falling against his shoulder. “That’s my good girl,” he cooed, driving his dick upwards into your wet cunt; the soft pants you made egging him on.

He waited until he could sense your orgasm – feeling your muscles clench, your body stiffen, temperature rise – before he let himself cum, pumping thick ropes of his cum deep into you. His fingers didn’t stop working on your clit – in fact, they moved even faster even harder. You came with a shriek, his hand finally releasing your hair, allowing you to drop forward onto the mattress.

You didn’t move – couldn’t move – but Bucky followed suit, hovering lowly over you, pressing kisses down your spine, reveling in the feeling of his cum dripping out of your pussy around his dick still warm inside of you.

We don't do no, we don't do no conversations We don't talk the way we used to You act like we're all good sometimes, you know I hate it 'Cause it's so obvious it ain't true

“Hey, Buck,” you called from the kitchen as he walked through the front door. He didn’t acknowledge you, didn’t even look in your remote direction. He kicked off his shoes, tossed his keys on the table, and walked directly past you to grab a snack from the fridge. “Dinner will be ready in fifteen,” you mention, watching as he already began devouring the left-over chicken legs from the other day.

You gave him the benefit of the doubt: maybe he had a bad day. You continued chopping the onion, minding your business, silently cursing him out. He can’t even give you a simple hello back? Yes, a bad day makes anyone want to come home and eat a whole meal, but does it really give him the excuse to eat a whole meal right as you’re working on dinner in front of him? If you knew his plan was to eat cold chicken for dinner, you would’ve gone out to eat by yourself instead of making supper for the both of you.

As you started working on mincing the garlic, you mulled over last nights’ events. The two of you had it out, sure, but it was nothing out of the ordinary. You’d fought, made up, even cuddled when you went to sleep. Now today he was going to flat out ignore you with no rhyme or reason. Unless something did happen – something regarding his coworkers? It wouldn’t be impossible, you thought to yourself, bitterly slamming the knife on the cutting board.

“Can you chill with that?” Bucky grumbled, finally looking in your direction, mouth full as he spoke to you in an irritated tone.

“I’m chill,” you mumbled, scraping the contents of the chopping block into the pan, a sizzle filling the silence that now washed over the two of you.

“What’s your problem?” He muttered, mostly to himself, as he took another bite.

“You’re my fucking problem.” You earnestly didn’t mean for him to hear it; if it weren’t for his goddamn super soldier hearing, he wouldn’t have.

He sighed heavily. “What did I do? I’ve been home all of two-minutes.”

You abandoned your pan, turning on your heel to face him. “You’re always ignoring me.”

“What?” He questioned, dropping the container on the counter and raising his hands up. “I can’t enjoy silence anymore? Do you want me to hate every aspect of my life?” He bit his tongue, immediately regretting what he said, but lacking the filter to be able to stop himself. He just wanted for once to be able to have a conversation – actually, he wanted for once to not have to have a conversation – but to have one without arguing would be a gift from god.

You lay the wooden spoon on the island counter between the two of you, the smell of burning onions and garlic now very fragrant in the space between you. “Damn, I wish I knew you hated your life earlier,” you sigh. He rolls his eyes, preparing a refute about how you always seem to blow things out of proportion, but you cut him off before he can open his mouth. “I would’ve left a long time ago.”

He’s the one who was always incapable of talking. One small thing ticks him off and suddenly the only thing he’s capable of doing is shutting himself in a dark room alone. He’s always shutting you out and pushing you away; and all you every try to do is something nice for him – making him dinner, offering an open ear to ramble off some steam – but he always ends up throwing your good deeds back in his face.

Not anymore.

You simply walk out the door. You took your purse, your keys, put on your shoes, and left him standing alone in the kitchen with his chicken.

Maybe it was an overreaction. However, you felt that it was fine based on how he acts like this every day. Was he doing it so you’d fight, and he could just have angry sex with you to make it okay later? Did he genuinely not want to talk to you – ever? If he really hated his life – and you in it – he would surely let you know? Unless this was the actual way he was letting you know? He didn’t call out after you, he just rolled his eyes and let you walk out the door.

Not extremely surprising, but it did hurt your feelings a bit. How could it not? The man you loved for the past two years, put up with this tumultuous relationship for, dealt with his mood swings, waited for him to come back home to you – all that for him to tell you he hated his life? His life that you entered and made so much better; at least, that’s what you thought.

So, you gave him a day. If silence and peace was what he truly wanted, you’d give it to him. You crashed at your friend’s place that evening, taking that bumpy couch so Bucky would have his time alone.

The only issue is that he didn’t call you the next day. He didn’t call or text.

He was waiting for you to come back to him. Understandable but annoying – aggravating. You (and your friend) hatched out a plan. You waited until he left for work before you returned home, grabbing a few necessities: clothes, toothbrush, the works, and heading back out to her place. There was no doubt that he would know you were gone. This happened twice before. That you became so irritated with him that you left for the night. But you went back the next day, coming home to him lounging on the couch with not a care in the world, hindsight told you that much. You’d simply laid on top of him, his arms snaking around your waist and your face buried in his neck. He waited for you to come back because that’s what he knew you’d do.

This time, you wanted him to reach out. To see if you were okay. To see if you were coming home. You felt like the only one putting in effort and you were so tired. That effort, of course, was shown in the fights the two of you had. You might be able to pin 75% of said arguments on you; but yelling at him was the only way to get through to him. Boy, he loved to fight. You’d honestly never seen him show off such emotion. You brought everything up – the other women all over him, his attitude problems, everything that bothered you. But he never said anything to you. He was so apathetic towards you that he barely spoke to you anymore. He didn’t ask how your day was, he didn’t get jealous when another guy flirted with you, he didn’t even respond to you saying hello – he was completely apathetic.

You waited four days: Friday, Saturday, Sunday, and Monday.

Monday, actually, you called in sick for work. You were caught between sobbing to your friend about how much Bucky didn’t care about you and wanting to show up to the Avengers Tower with your fists clenched and a certain red-headed Russian spy to back you up. There was no word from him. He obviously saw some of your things were missing; hell, he probably knew exactly where you were, too. He just didn’t do anything about it.

He obviously didn’t care, so you wouldn’t either.

So good together Maybe I'm crazy Maybe we're crazy No one loves me better Than you, you, you, you

It was clear that you were broken up. Neither of you said anything, but you slowly started to move out of your shared apartment, taking small amounts every day while he was at work until you were fully moved out and into the spare bedroom at your sister’s place on the other side of the city. It made your commute to work a little harder, now having to take two trains and walk a couple blocks; but you learned to appreciate the city, the architecture, the weather. Living with her was great – she was a built-in friend; but it wasn’t living with Bucky.

You were a little heartbroken – maybe more bitter. He just let you go without a fight.

Without a single word.

It was four months of binge-eating, wine-drinking and moping around about Bucky before you had a date. The date itself was fine. The guy was cute enough, funny enough, sweet enough. Your sister convinced you to go out with him again. You almost used him just to take your mind off Bucky. You felt bad about it, but he technically knew you and Bucky dated not long ago.

Everybody knew. It was in the tabloids. They photographed the two of you separately. They connected the dots after they hadn’t seen you and him together for a few weeks. Instead, they only got photos of you or him doing mundane things: you grocery shopping, Bucky going for a run around Central Park; you sitting on the train on your way home from work, Bucky saving the world.

Although you never grew to like having paparazzi take photos of your every step, you’d grown accustomed to it. You never made the front page or headline news, more reserved to as a style-guide or just a few Buzzfeed articles about yourself. Bucky, however, made headlines a lot. You had to speed walk past the newspaper and magazine stands around the city because you didn’t want to see him: whether he was decked out in armor, fighting bad guys, or simply smiling alongside Steve and Sam as they enjoyed one rare night out – you didn’t want to know about any of it.

You continued to see Oliver, almost seriously now, but trying to see past the whole using-him-as-a-rebound mentality. You’d gone on a few more dates, and, before you knew it, he had officially asked you to be his girlfriend. He was awkward in a cute sort of way – couldn’t be more of the polar opposite of Bucky.

Bucky had a demanding, intimidating presence; Oliver stood lanky and slender. Bucky was every bit of tall-dark-and-handsome; Oliver was fair and pale. Bucky’s attitude read toxic, masculine, and provocative; Oliver read like a nerdy-teenager, meekly quiet.

While there was nothing wrong with Oliver, he just wasn’t Bucky.

There was another aspect in which Oliver didn’t hold a candle to Bucky.

In. The. Bedroom.

You may not have been in love with Oliver, but, damn, after six months a bitch gets horny. It was fine at first, you were going to throw a dog a bone and not judge him too much the first round. After all, he was genuinely nice and seemed to care about you a lot, so you weren’t about to crush his heart just because he couldn’t make you cum the first time.

You’d grown to a certain level of intimacy with Bucky. One minute you could be making love – softly, sensually; the next minute he could be choking you and fucking you senseless. A long time was spent building the light affection between the two of you, before either of you even got comfortable with the toxicity and animosity that surrounded you – that egged you on, riling each other up until it was too much and you’d just explode. And maybe that was your problem. Each of you had too much pride and hidden hostility that it engulfed you. You’d lost touch with your younger selves. That became your downfall.

You tried not to think about it too much. Especially when you were in Oliver’s bed and he was kissing your neck. Exactly the position you were in at that exact moment.

His lips were sucking a hickey on your neck as he fucked you slowly. You laid flat on the bed, his elbows bent on either side of your ribcage, head tucked under your jaw. “You like that?” He whispered, dragging his hand down your stomach, fingers desperately trying to find your clit.

You laid there like a dead fish. There was no way you were going to be able to stand this for any longer. You stopped him, pressing a hand to his chest and pushing him off your body. “Let’s switch,” you suggested.

He laid down in your place, allowing you to hop on, reverse cowgirl, fucking yourself the way you wanted.

Bucky liked it when you did that. And you liked the way that Bucky would’ve let you use his dick to get yourself off, smacking your ass along the way, spurring you on. “Fuck, I love it when you ride me like this, baby,” he’d groan, snapping his hips up to match yours.

Oliver stayed quiet, breathing heavily as he watched your perky ass bounce up and down in front of him. You were just getting into rhythm when he began to groan behind you. No, no, no, please. One more minute, you begged, cadence not faltering. Before long – before you came – Oliver finished, leaving you with no other choice than to lay on the bed beside him. He pressed a breathless kiss to your lips. “That was amazing,” he mumbled against your lips. “Did you cum?”

Yeah fucking right. You kissed him again, humming in neither confirmation nor opposition. He got up and shimmied to the bathroom to dispose of the used condom. You shut your eyes and nearly face-palmed yourself.

God, Bucky had ruined you.

Ruined your emotions, your life, your perception of love.

Ruined you for any other man.

So, laying in Oliver’s bed, unsatisfied, you couldn’t help but think about how much you’d want to off yourself if Bucky slept with someone else – especially Toller or Rivers. You were broken up. It had been months – nearly a year. Hell, even you were technically sleeping with someone else.

But just the thought of him treating someone else the way he did you – pulling her hair, fucking her, eating her out, making her scream his name like it was the only word she knew – it devastated you.

You promise yourself not to ask and never to find out.

If it isn't love, tell me why do we hurt so good? If it isn't love, tell me why do we hurt so good together? If it isn't love, tell me why do we feel so good? If it isn't love, tell me why do we hurt so good together? So good together

You broke up with Oliver that night. It was better for everyone.

You felt it best to take this time to focus on yourself. Hell, you spent your whole past relationship focusing on Bucky, you spent all of your time with Oliver focusing on how he wasn’t Bucky.

This was about you. It was about your career, your health, your sanity.

Your broken heart.

No matter how hard you threw yourself into your work, how much you worked out, how much you refined your cooking, how many self-help books you read – you felt empty.

You got promoted at work, you built your confidence up, your pallet refined, you loved yourself more than you ever had – something was still missing.

And that’s how you ended up with your phone ringing against your ear, Bucky sitting silently on the other end.

He agreed to meet you. As you walked up the stairs from the subways station, your heartstrings tightened as you walked around your old neighborhood. It had been a year since you’d really been back here; you’d passed through occasionally, but never wanted to take your time travelling down the streets, as it was too painful. There were too many memories of you and Bucky walking hand-in-hand down these streets.

You strolled down your old block, stopping in front of your old apartment. Books and plants cluttered the front windowsill, CDs stacked along the side, bright lights shining across the windowpane, a shadow cast over the glass.

Of course Bucky sold the place. You left. He had no reason to keep it. He had a place at the Tower. He had people there. He had a life there.

You crossed your arms over your chest, pushing the collar of your coat higher around your neck, shielding yourself from the cold New York winter evening. You turned the corner at the end of the block, seeking shelter in the coffee shop. Bucky agreed to meet you here; it was neutral ground for the both of you. You’d had plenty of dates there, Sundays spent catching up on work and getting coffee. There were no bad memories here, no fights, no fowl words, no animosity. Only hand holding, hot coffee, and shy smiles passed from over the small tables.

You pulled open the door to the shop, sighing in relief as the warm air hit your cheeks. You stopped suddenly in your tracks, breath hitching in the back of your throat.

There he sat, fifteen minutes earlier than you planned, wrapped in that navy-blue sweater you loved – you loved to wear – waiting for you. You couldn’t feel your legs. You couldn’t take a step forward.

You barely recognized him. Obviously, you’d never miss him. He just looked so different. His hair was cut – short. He was clean shaven. He was a completely different man.

He stared you up and down. You looked good, he could tell even with your thick winter jacket and tall boots. He missed your face, your eyes, your lips, your hair, your smell – everything. He waited for you to walk over to the table; it took about two more minutes of you staring at him before you even made your first step closer.

You finally took a seat at the opposite side of his table, a large latte already waiting for you. Your hands were shaking as your held it against the porcelain cup. You couldn’t even look him in the eyes. His handsome blue eyes. His chestnut locks brushed back nearly away from his face, showing off his chiseled cheekbones and jawline. You loved his long hair, you loved grabbing it, you loved the way it hung in his eyes, contrasting his blue eyes; it made him look so edgy. But this Bucky. Ladies’ man, charming, mesmerizing. You’d only seen pictures of Bucky like this, but you couldn’t believe how alluring he actually looked in real life.

Bucky with long hair would fuck you raw until you screamed yourself raw – Bucky with short hair would smile while doing it.

“Hey,” you whispered, voice failing you as you dropped your eyes to your latte.

You saw him nod at you from under your eyelashes. He lifted his own coffee to his mouth, taking a long sip before clearing his throat, gaining his full attention. You bit your bottom lip, staring at him wide-eyed. “So…” he began softly, giving you a half smile. “You’re the one that called me here.”

You stared blankly at him. He was right. It had been over a year and you’d called him up. Why? The answer escaped even your own mind. You didn’t know what compelled you to call him or what your plan was going to be once you actually sat down in front of him. “I guess…” you sighed loudly, dropping your eyes again. “I – I was wondering…” You lost your voice again.

“Why I never called?” He finished for you. He looked sad, once you finally gained the courage to raise your head again. He stared blankly at you, very matter-of-factly. You nodded, not trusting your own voice. He confirmed your nod with one of his own, taking another sip of his coffee. “I didn’t think I should drag you down anymore.”

You rolled your eyes. Just like old times. “Stop playing the victim, James. That’s why I walked.” You took the first sip of your latte, cooled now after it had been sitting out.

He narrowed his eyes at you, but you were right. Just like old times. He shrugged casually, trying to keep his cards close to his chest. “I just thought you’d be better off without me.” He stops himself from reaching across the table and taking your hand. “And that’s being honest.”

You nodded, processing his words. “We weren’t good for each other, huh,” you muttered over the rim of your glass.

“It was kind of toxic,” he admitted, a nervous chuckle following after. He tugged his knit sleeve farther up his arm, flexing it behind his head and pulling at the tips of his hair at the top of his neck.

“You hair looks nice,” you throw in, filling the silence that had fallen between you.

“Thanks. Just needed a change-up,” he replied, dropping his hand to the tabletop.

You nodded softly. You leaving his life wasn’t enough change? “I just wanted you to want me to come back,” you blurt. That’s the change you were waiting for.

He slowly let out his breath, shifting in his chair. His eyebrows raised at the accusation. “I don’t know how you could think that I didn’t want you back.”

“Buy you didn’t say anything,” you protested, laying your hands on the table, trying to keep your voice calm and steady. “Every time I left – you never tried to call, text – nothing.”

He brought his hand up to his chin, rubbing his jaw firmly. It was his old habit dying hard; back when he had a beard, he used to scratch at it all the time, you used to run your fingers against it, used to revel in the feeling of it brushing roughly against your thighs. “(Y/N),” he sighed. “I didn’t know what I was doing – I was stupid. Look, I thought about what I said to you for days; Every day that you’ve been done, actually. I treated you like shit.”

“Well,” you interjected. “It goes both ways.”

Neither of you could hold back your smiles. God, you treated each other like shit. But that didn’t stop either of you from loving each other as much as you did. “A little pain with the pleasure,” he mumbled, drinking his coffee. “So, you called me just to ask me that?”

You sighed, now your turn to awkwardly scratch the back of your head. “I missed you.”

And that’s how you ended up at the Avenger’s Tower, Bucky throwing you on his bed. He laid on top of you, bringing his lips to yours. You fisted at his sweater, trying to tug it off of him, Bucky breaking off the kiss just to pull it off his back, his lips finding yours once again. You kicked off your boots as Bucky unbuttoned your jeans, making quick work pulling them off your legs. You sweater followed suit, lifting your torso off the bed so he could peel it off you. As soon as your skin was exposed, Bucky’s lips attached to your warm flesh.

He trailed his tongue and wet lips against your collarbone, trailing it down your chest, then between the valley of your breasts. He quickly pulled off your bra, throwing it on the ground beside the bed. He took your nipple into his mouth, sucking softly, flicking the tip of his tongue over your nipple. He continued downwards, kissing the underside of your breast and down your ribcage.

Your breath hitched as his tongue dragged across your warm slit; he let out a low moan, reveling in the taste he’d been missing for so long. His hands found your inner thighs, pushing them apart, pinning them to the bed. Your hands slid through his hair, grabbing handfuls of his chestnut locks, short strands slipping through your fingers.

He laid his tongue flat against your slit, pointing the tip to curl between your lips to taste your juice. He circled his tongue gently at your clit, his hand finding your lips, spreading open your pussy and spreading you open with two fingers. He pumped in and out of you slowly, indulging himself in your velvet cunt.

He hummed against your clit, kissing it softly before groaning into your folds. He added a third finger, joining them with his tongue as he stretched you open, licking his fingers clean afterwards. He ate you out with vigor, rapidly fucking you with his tongue and fingers.

As he continued tongue-fucking you, he pulled his fingers out, holding them up to your face. He looked up at your from over your pussy, holding his fingers to your mouth. “You taste so good, baby,” he whispered against your clit.

You opened your mouth, sticking your tongue out. You shut your eyes, swirling your tongue around his first two fingers as you sucked of the salty taste. You moaned around his fingers, Bucky’s face burying itself deeper into your pussy. As he sucked your clit, you sighed, dropping your head against the mattress and shutting your eyes tightly. You were surrounded by darkness and a sudden bright light.

He kissed your sensitive clit, kissing up your pubic bone and making his way up to your lips. “I missed your sweet pussy, baby.” You moaned, something about his low voice whispering against your lips, talking about how good you tasted that made you melt.

“Bucky, please,” you whimpered, fingers dragging through his hair, pulling at the ends. “I need you.”

He sighed, staring down at you. You were glowing. Sweat beading along your hairline, eyes glazed over and shining, skin luminous. “I love you, (Y/N),” he whispered, gazing into your eyes in admiration. “And I want you to know that I’m not letting you leave again – ” he pressed a firm kiss to your lips, his tongue running against your bottom lip. You parted your lips to accommodate his tongue, although he pulled away from you. “And I’ll follow you to the ends of the earth.”

Your heart was heavy as it leaped into the back of your throat. Your breathing shallowed – and it wasn’t because of Bucky’s bodyweight laying on your chest. You blinked the tears away from your eyes, willing for them to not fall in this exact moment. “I love you, James.”

After two chaste kisses to your lips, he buried his head in the crook of you neck, lining up his cock with your entrance. As he pushed into you, he sighed against your collarbone, his hot breath tickling your skin. “Fuck, you’re so tight.” He bit into your shoulder, you eyes rolling to the back of your head as he bottomed out inside of you.

You hadn’t been stretched like this in so long. You felt like you could be torn in two as he impaled you. It hurt in all the best ways.

You gasped as he pulled out of you, quickly shoving back in – he bit his lip, nearly cumming in that exact moment. You were so tight, so wet. Nobody could fuck you like this – nobody could make love to you like this.

He took hold of your thighs, pulling them over his shoulders, calves resting against his collarbones. He took a hold of your upper thigh with one hand, intertwining his fingers with yours in his other hand, pressing it into the mattress. He angled his hips directly on top of yours, pounding straight on top of you. The sound of skin slapping against skin echoed in the hot, steamy room, your sounds muffled by Bucky as he swallowed your moans.

He kissed you sloppily, his cock pulsating in your pussy, you writing underneath him – it was driving him crazy. It had been over a year since he had you under him: a squirming mess. You almost had to push him off of you – out of you – it was nearly too much. His wet lips on yours, his hot breath on your skin, his words whispered in your ear, you overly sensitive clit. This is what you’d been missing: all the pleasure that made the pain so worth it. The endless fights, the ruthless words, the meaningless fights.

Unbeknownst to either of you, it was the moment in which you both came simultaneously, in which you both silently promised each other to love each other forever – to never make the other hurt that badly again.

#bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes imagine #bucky x reader #bucky barnes #captain america #bucky barnes fanfiction #fanfic #bucky x you #angst #smut

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doc-pickles · 3 years

Text

the storm & the wind

Brooke is running and Alex happens to meet her along her journey. Their brief encounter might just change everything for her.

hey hi hello I am DOUBLE POSTING for some god damn reason. (i updated treacherous on AO3 for the the first time in 20 years) this was in my drafts and I felt the sudden overwhelming need to finish it today. I love this piece more than I can say and it makes me feel all warm and fuzzy so I hope y’all enjoy it.

also the title comes from this quote from Little Women: You are the gull, Jo, strong and wild, fond of the storm and the wind, flying far out to sea, and happy all alone.

The snow crunching beneath her feet soaks into her worn Converse, a chilling reminder that she should’ve thought to grab something warmer. She makes a mental note to throw her now soaked socks over the heating vent later as she walks into the diner. It’s an old rundown place, but the gust of warm air that brushes over her face as she enters is a more than welcome feeling. Sitting at the counter she knows she should order something to eat but she can’t bring herself to ask for more than a cup of coffee when an aging waitress comes by and asks, her fingers greedily clutching the mug as she takes a sip.

“You’re not really dressed for the weather.”

The voice startles her, her grip around the cup tightening as she turns to her left. The owner of the voice can’t be much older than her, his chiseled jawline dotted with stubble and his dark hair cropped close to his head. He looks grumpy, an expression more at home on someone twice his age but the glint in his eyes keeps his youthful appearance.

“Your shoes are practically soaked through and you have a sweater on in 13-degree weather,” the stranger continues to share his thoughts, his comment prompting her to pull her cardigan tighter around herself. “I’m guessing you’re not from around here Blondie.”

The observation reminds her that the thick braid hanging over her shoulder is a bright bleach blonde instead of her natural brunette coloring. She’d hastily dyed it in a rest stop somewhere in Ohio, desperate to wash away any traces of him that she could.

“I’m from New Jersey. Well… Kind of. I’m originally from Pennsylvania.”

The words slip from her mouth before she can second-guess them. Normally she would worry about giving any identifying information out, the fear of him being able to find her consuming her mind. But she knows now that she’s far from New Jersey and the life she left behind.

“You’re from the East Coast and you didn’t pack a winter coat?”

“I forgot… I was in a rush.”

That part isn’t a total lie, she had been in a rush when she left. She had shoved as much as she could into her suitcase while he had been working, not wanting to face his anger at her sudden departure. Now though she wishes she had put more thought into what she grabbed, she’d been freezing since she left.

“Here, you look like a wet dog shivering like that,” the man slips his thick red flannel off, holding the garment out to her with an expectant look. “Cmon, I don't have fleas or anything.”

She takes the proffered jacket, only because she’s shaking just as much as he says she is. The heavy material settles on her shoulders instantly warming her. The man looks at her for a moment before turning back to his coffee, speaking as he stares at the dark liquid, “If you're from Jersey what the hell are you doing out here? Middle of nowhere Iowa isn’t exactly a tourist destination.”

“I’m starting over, running away from… something. At least I think I am. I’m not quite sure,” she toys with the sleeves of his jacket, finally looking back up at him after a moment with an accusing tone. “Why do you care anyways? Are you just trying to make sure I don’t have any concerned family members that will come looking for me after you kidnap and murder me?”

There’s a momentary pause before a peel of laughter erupts from the man, a glint taking over his dark eyes as he speaks, “Jesus, you’re really paranoid or something, huh?”

“Or something,” the words are barely a whisper, but they’re loud enough for him to hear and stop his laughter. She looks up and meets his eyes, noticing how he looks her over as if trying to figure out exactly what she’s thinking.

“I’m not trying to kill you, just trying to make conversation,” as if to prove his point he holds his hand out towards her. “I’m Alex.”

She hesitates only for a moment before settling her hand into his much larger one.

“I’m Brooke.”

The conversation seems easier after that, Alex talking about bringing his younger brother home after he had visited him in Seattle and Brooke talking about how she just finished her pre med degree at Princeton. They actually had a lot in common, an almost comforting feeling for her since Paul had isolated her from all her friends.

Paul.

She didn’t dare bring up her abusive husband or the horrors he had dragged her through. No, today she’s not poor defenseless Brooke Stadler whose husband can’t control his temper. Today she’s just Brooke, recent college grad who’s eating breakfast with Alex, the cute doctor with a charming smile.

“So why’d you say you’re starting over,” Alex finally broaches the subject as they both finish their meals. “I mean you just finished pre-med, that means you’re starting med school in the fall right? What are you running from? ”

Brooke shrugs, eyes falling to her now empty plate and she avoids Alex's piercing stare, “I’m supposed to start at Princeton med but now I’m not so sure. A lot has happened lately… It's complicated.”

Alex‘s hand reaches out for her arm, the move causing her to jump slightly. An embarrassed blush paints itself on her cheeks as Alex searches her eyes, almost as if he knows what she’s thinking about. He seems to brush the thought off quickly though as he continues to prod at her.

“Well… Did you get in anywhere else? It’s not too late to change your mind,” Alex shrugged as if sensing Brooke’s discomfort with the situation. “I was supposed to do my residency at the hospital down the street before I switched to Seattle at the last minute. Best thing I probably could’ve done for myself.”

“Well… I got into Harvard too. But I’m not sure,” there’s hesitation lacing her voice when she knows there shouldn’t be. Her mind is swirling, thinking about the fact that she could always go back to him. “I don’t know, I was thinking about going back home.”

Alex scoffs, the small noise causing Brooke to stare at him intensely, “You're not going back home, that’s a load of crap.”

“What makes you so sure about that? You don’t know anything about me.”

There’s a pause as Alex takes a sip of his coffee, a deliberate distraction as he attempts to string together the right words, “Well that black eye isn’t hidden as well as you think it is. And you jumped about a mile in the air when I first started talking to you. So I’m assuming you’re not running from something but someone. Did I get it right?”

Brooke’s fingers froze around her mug, eyes watering as she stared blankly at the dark liquid swirling inside. She pushes down the uncomfortable lump forming in her throat, trying to convince her nerves that Alex was just observant and not a threat.

“My husband… he has a temper,” eyes still focused on the coffee instead of Alex, Brooke found it marginally easier to talk about the real reason she was sitting in a diner in Iowa. “I just knew, the last time he… I just knew if he did it again he would kill me. So when he went to work I grabbed as much as I could and I got in my car and I drove. I don’t think I stopped for almost five hours, not really knowing where I was going. I just knew I had to keep going, that I couldn’t live like that any longer.”

The sounds of the diner around them are all Brooke can hear as her truth settles in the air, Alex taking in everything she’d ungraciously word vomited out. When he finally does speak again, there’s no tell tale tone of pity in his voice that she’d been anticipating.

“My dad was the same way, but my mom never had it in her to run. She was pretty messed up herself,” Brooke looks up at the stranger next to her as a small chuckle breaks through his serious tone. “She wouldn’t run so I had to raise my siblings, I had to make sure we all stayed alive. So I get it, why you’re running. And for what it’s worth, I think you should keep running.”

Swiping at the tears that had collected under her eyelashes Brooke thought about Alex’s words, “He's gonna find me, I know he will.”

“Screw him,” Alex scoffs, taking a swig of his coffee before continuing. “Go to Harvard, change your name, live your life. I promise you, you’ll regret it if you turn around and go back. You have a chance, a real chance, to change your life. Don’t let that slip away.”

There’s a beat of silence as Alex’s encouragement settles deep within Brooke’s chest. The man was a stranger in every sense of the word but somehow his whole hearted belief in her encouraged her to keep moving forward.

“Think of it this way, you get to start a brand new life, no strings attached,” Alex continues. “You can pick something cool! Something that means something. Like… One of those sisters from the book where their dad is away at war?”

“Little Women?”

“Yeah that one,” Brooke laughs at Alex’s statement, causing him to roll his eyes. “Oh shut up, my sister was obsessed with it and made me read it like a hundred times. But all those sisters were badasses, you could use one of those names. Like Amy or Beth. Well no she dies… How about Jo! You definitely look like a Jo to me.”

Brooke’s nose scrunches up at the names, causing both of them to laugh as Alex comes up with ridiculous suggestions. A flood of relief washes over Brooke as the two continue to talk. It had been a long time since she’d let her guard down around someone and just been herself.

A while later she excuses herself to the bathroom, a flash of disappointment striking her when she comes back to an empty seat. Her bill that had been sitting on the counter was paid, the receipt turned over and messy scrawl covering the back.

‘Keep running.’

So she does, Brooke keeps running and running and running and she doesn’t stop. In fact, when the running doesn’t feel like enough anymore she takes up actual running to calm her mind.

She runs every morning, at least two miles to clear her head and to keep herself sane. The days she misses her run are filled with overwhelming thoughts and anxiety that courses through her veins so quickly that it feels like a river crashing over her nervous system. She changes her name, cuts her hair, goes to Harvard and graduates top of her class. Every movement, every breath feels like she’s just moving towards the end of a never ending trail. But she keeps going, she keeps running because it’s all she can do.

When she gets accepted into Seattle Grace, one of the best hospitals in the country that puts thousands of miles between her and her past, it finally feels like a breath of fresh air, like relief is on the horizon. So she leaves Boston, leaves the east coast and everything familiar and finally feels like she might be able to stop running.

Seattle is different, it’s new and unexpected and perfect. It’s the first place where her name feels like it’s truly hers even though she’d lived with it now for almost seven years. Her first morning in her new apartment she goes for a run and finds herself looking over the Seattle harbor with a wide smile on her face. She’s a doctor now, something she’s worked towards her whole life it seems, but now it seems so real.

And then she gets put onto a Peds rotation and her heart seems to stop beating in her chest. Because her attending, Doctor Karev, is someone who’s appeared in her mind almost everyday since the first time she met him. His face, albeit a bit younger, is the one that appears when she thinks she can’t go on any longer.

“You mind?”

Alex’s voice brings her back from her daze, the same one that echoes her footfalls as she chases an adrenaline high every morning. She shakes her head in a futile attempt to clear it, “Sorry.”

“Why are you following me,” there’s an annoyed tone to his voice as she mimics his brisk pace down the hallway. She’d heard horror stories about him, about how rude and mean he was but she never would've guessed it was him.

“I'm your intern for the day.”

“Oh. Well, hello, intern,” Alex side eyes her, not really taking her in. “You have a name?”

“Jo. Jo Wilson,” it’s probably the fiftieth time she's said her name out loud since coming to Seattle but this time it feels different.

There’s a pause and Alex turns to take her in once more, as if he had missed something the first time he’d looked. She almost thinks he’ll say something, but he just shrugs and returns to tying his trauma gown, “Oh, nice. I like chicks with boys' names.”

The moment that she thought was there was gone and she stared at her shoelaces as Alex and Doctor Torres prattled on about something. She figures she should be grateful that he didn’t recognize her, that the seven years and the constant self improvement she’d put into herself had paid off. Still, her heart sunk as she realized that the man that had pushed her to keep running, to change her life, didn’t remember her.

Their story isn’t easy, in fact it’s one of the hardest things she’s ever been through. But there’s not a single ounce of hesitation or regret in her body when she wakes up every morning next to him. She’s always up before him, solely so she can get her run in before he wakes. By the time she comes back and showers, his eyes are sleepily staring up at her and his arms are reaching out for her like she’d been gone longer than a quick jog.

Alex is the person she’d needed, the one who pushed her to be better and made her feel like she didn’t need to change anything about herself. But the need to run, to keep running still hammered in her chest right under her heartbeat. She figured it would always sit there, the constant anxiety that her past might catch up with her if she stopped running.

When Paul shows up, all she wants is Alex. Before Seattle she would've run, would’ve been gone before anyone could blink to miss her. But now she wants nothing more than to curl up in Alex’s arms and never leave. She knows there’s more that needs to be done though, knows there’s more to the fight and that she needs to keep running this last little bit.

It’s not until she sees her ex husband laying in a hospital bed brain dead that Jo finally feels like she can breathe again, like she can stop fighting and just be. The breath of relief that washes over her as Alex runs his hand down her back feels like a thousand pound weight being lifted off her shoulders.

“I was pregnant.”

There’s a pause and she can feel Alex tense next to her, his hand on her back slowing as his eyes bore into her. She wishes she could stop but the words have been dying to slip out for the past six years that she’s been with him.

“The day we met, I was pregnant,” she turns to look at him, tears shining in her eyes. He doesn’t look shocked, not as shocked as he would’ve been if he didn’t know too. “I almost turned around and went back to him and raised a baby with him but I didn’t. The only reason I didn’t was because of this cocky asshole I met in a shitty diner who convinced me to start over. You’re the reason I kept running, the reason I didn’t go back. Whenever I doubted myself I heard your voice, the voice of a complete stranger mind you, in the back of my head telling me to keep running. You... you’re the reason I’m alive.”

Alex keeps his gaze on her for a minute, not daring to look away as they both realize that the other has known. Through the years of their relationship, since their second meeting in the very halls of this hospital they’ve both known exactly who the other is.

“You did all of that by yourself, you just needed a little push,” Alex brings her close again, his lips brushing against her forehead as she folds herself into his side. She’s crying full on now, her chest shaking as she finally lets herself stop running and lets the pent up emotions of the past few days wash over her. “I knew you could do it, I’m glad you did.”

Her tears don’t stop for a few days as she comes to terms with the fact that there’s no longer a need for her to run. In fact a few days later as she’s on her morning jog she stops and takes the deepest breath she feels she’s ever taken. As she leans on her knees she takes in the feeling of air freely flowing through her lungs, the exhilaration coursing through her body akin to what she thinks completing a marathon must feel like. Her eyes scan the Seattle harbor, taking in the sunrise as she breathes heavily and lets the day settle in around her. She'd run her race, she’d run it longer and faster and better than she’d thought she was capable of and finally, finally, she had finished.

#jolex fanfic #jolex #Alex Karev #Jo wilson #Jo Karev #grey’s anatomy #grey’s anatomy fanfic #Jo x Alex #jolex fic #nina writes

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m-y-fandoms · 4 years

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Rantarou Amami x Ultimate Writer - FLUFF

Request: Hi! Your writing is incredible ^^ I was wondering if you could write Rantaro with an Ultimate Essay Writer s/o, maybe comforting them when they're up late writing? I hope that's okay, and thank you :D

Hey! Sure I can do this! But, I wanna make it just the Ultimate Writer. I’m an english writing major myself IRL, and I have to write essays, non-fiction, emails, resumes, letters, instructional guides, graphic novels, fiction, poetry etc. so they will definitely have essay-writing skills anyway. Ultimate Writer just makes it easier. I hope you don’t mind :) - Admin Kokichi

"Nnnn!" You gritted your teeth in frustration, "NNNGGHH!" Your arm was stretched to its extent, reaching up with all your might. The shelf above was just out of reach. Your fingertips scraped against the spine of the thick brown book above you, but strain as you might, it wasn’t budging, firm and snug against the others on the shelf. "Gah!" You puffed in anger, clenching your fists. Why did the books you wanted from the basement library always have to be so high up? You needed this particular text as a reference for your next piece.

It was going to be a throwaway letter, a confession written to express your feelings then set them free by burning it later. It didn’t matter, really, what you wrote at this point. Anything to get your mind off of all of… this. In this killing game, your writing was the only thing that brought you comfort. You stayed up every night scrawling until your wrist cramped up. Your Monopad had a notes section to type in, but you much rather stick to the traditional ways. The lack of sleep and endless output of creative thought was starting to weigh on you, and now it looked like you weren’t even getting this damn book today, “Man, this blows…” You sighed deeply. "AH!" You jumped, startled when a large, ring-clad hand suddenly appeared in front of your face, bracelets jangling in your ear. Soon, you felt someone's broad chest against your back. The hand grabbed the book you wanted and brought it down. You turned around with your hand on your chest, still a little jumpy. "Oh, phew… Rantarou, it's just you."

"Yeah,” he chuckled gently, “here ya go Y/N." There stood your crush, the rich playboy with a heart of gold. You felt your cheeks go warm. He was often in the library, and you relished every moment you got to spend glancing over your shoulder at him while we has up to his usual antics of planning traps or researching new ways to interrogate your classmates until someone was spooked into admitting their position as the mastermind. Once in a while, he would read for pleasure, and at first you felt like an asshole for being surprised by that. You judged him too early on, seeing a flawless face and a suave personality and assuming he would be the popular kid archetype you’d seen in many an awful young adult novel. The more you got to know him, the more he revealed himself to be highly intelligent, well-rounded, considerate, empathetic, and extremely attractive.

"Thanks, Rantarou," you looked down, placing the book under your arm.

"No problem… it's not everyday I get to do something useful for someone else here," he rubbed the back of his neck, laughing nervously. You laughed too, looking him up and down.

“That’s not true!” you countered. “You’re always helping us all out. You give great advice, too!”

“Well, I try to help, but I’m sure it hasn’t escaped everyone’s notice that none of my plans have really... taken off,” he gestured, moving his hand in a soaring-upward motion. “Also, with me not rememberin’ my talent and all… I kinda have become the expendable background character, yeah?” His eyes crinkled closed with a kind smile.

He laughed again to fill the silence of the dark, empty library. You giggled. You always thought it was cute how could be so humble, looking the way he did, sounding the way he did. He had been that way ever since you’d met him, and are far as you were concerned, it seemed genuine. You couldn’t really trust anyone in this killing game, but you trusted Rantarou. Even in the library past midnight, where no one would know if you ended up dead, you trusted Rantarou.

"Sorry, I uh, I didn't mean to scare you," he leaned against the bookcase, arms crossed.

"Nah, it's fine. You helped me out, so I forgive you..." You joked, playfully punching his shoulder. He smiled a bit sheepishly, an expression you didn’t see often in the confident male.

"Yeah I… haha," He fiddled with a book nearby," I didn't think anyone would be here. I always come at night. Surprisingly, it's pretty boomin’ here during the day, so I come later on to avoid the hassle of a crowded space." You understood completely. Rantarou was always secretive about his plans.

“I know, I see you here sometimes,” you mused.

“Oh, really? I usually sit behind the back shelves, so I guess i didn’t notice you. You’re pretty quiet, huh? Maybe I should be watchin’ my back for you, huh?” He snickered

"I was having the same thought, isn't that weird?" He looked at you with alarm. “I’m kidding!” To that, he relaxed a bit. "So, watcha reading?"

"Oh, um," He gestured behind him to the aforementioned back shelf "I’m set up back there reading. It's just some old, boring, textbook information on one of the small countries I’ve visited. I thought it'd be interesting, but..."

"Yeah, sounds like it," You looked at him with genuine interest, and he smiled in appreciation.

"Wait, really?!"

"Yeah, why wouldn't it be? I think it’s super cool that you’re well-traveled. I guess that’s why you and Korekiyo get along so well, huh?" His feet shuffled in silent excitement at your shared enthusiasm. He bit his lip playfully, and your eyes grew shiny in admiration. He was so adorable.

He noticed your change in expression and coughed, frowning a little in embarrassment. You tried to change the subject, to make him comfortable again.

"H-hey, Rantarou?"

"Hmm?" He looked up from the ground eagerly.

"You're gonna be up reading all night, right? Well.. I will be, too, and... it’s harder for someone to kill us with four eyes on the lookout..."

"Yeah?"

"So, you wanna maybe sit with me here at my table? The vents reach this side of the library better so it’s a bit warmer... haha, it's... it's kinda cold in here," You pulled your uniform’s turtleneck tighter around yourself, shaking a little. Rantarou immediately accepted. He wasn’t about to pass up an invitation from his crush.

“Hell yeah, sounds great! I’ll go grab my stuff, but, hey, I’ve noticed I hardly ever see you in the dorms… you know you gotta sleep, right?” He had a concerned look on his face, and your heart of course fluttered at his attention to detail and knowledge of your habits, but you didn’t want him worrying about you when he had his own safety to look out for.

“Well, I appreciate the concern, but I’d much rather spend time with you than be in my dorm alone worrying.” He seemed to blush at your words, and you thought you’d maybe gone too far, until he agreed, and rushed over to grab his reading material.

You sighed deeply, a yawn slipping out once or twice. At least two hours had passed since you and Rantarou set up your little corner and there he still sat, in the wooden chair across from yours, never looking up at you from his book. A peaceful, relaxed look glazed his face. He had been that way almost the whole time, but you could sense him becoming a bit antsy. Maybe he was just tired?

You were both fast readers, so by now you had already read the best sections of your own books and switched. He now sat reading the yellowed pages of the book you selected: an eclectic compilation of 16th century romance literature, and you were now five chapters into his text on the different ethnic groups of some far-off land.

“Hmm… heh,” he shook his head amusedly.

“What?” Your head shot up anxiously, fearing he was judging your choice of genre.

“It’s just... some of this is extremely cheesy and cliche. You’d think the old masters would have done a little better.” He lifted the book in a referencing gesture.

“Ah, yes, I noticed that as well. I was hoping for a little inspiration, but… it seems Monokuma isn’t the best curator of quality literature.” He nodded in agreement, seemingly stuck on a thought. You could see him stare into space for a second before continuing.

“Inspiration for what… may I ask?” He pressed, waiting with bated breath for your reply. You felt your feathers start to ruffle, the borders of your comfort zone being invaded by the enemy. You didn’t know if you should answer honestly. The letter was a throwaway for a reason…

“I was going to write a letter…” it slipped out, and you quickly regretted it. Apparently, your brain had decided to take the lead for you. You never recalled yourself being so forward or brave.

“Why do you need sonnets and romance novels to write a letter? Planning to sweet talk Monokuma into freeing us?” He chuckled somewhat teasingly, but his haughty words slowly faded to silence upon noticing the wet shine in your nervous eyes, the way your fingers played with the corner of the book as a distraction for your discomfort.

“No…” You coughed, clearing your throat. Rantarou looked away, running a hand through his green shaggy locks. He knew what the letter was for, of course, who it was for. He was a bit nervous, too, eager to play off the tension in the room with humor, but it wasn’t working. He was wondering why you were so apprehensive, so sullen at his inquiry. You two flirted almost every day… did you seriously need to worry about his reaction? Did you think he didn’t like you back? “I-It’s… well it was going to be a um… a confession of sorts… just to get my feelings down on paper and off my chest. Then I was gonna burn it afterward to set those feelings free!” You smiled weakly, betraying your lack of confidence.

“Nah, you should give it to him- them!” He corrected himself, dropping the most obvious hint he could. You still didn’t look convinced, a bit oblivious.

“Y-you think so?”

“For sure, no doubt. Whoever that letter is meant for,” he leaned in to you, clasping his calloused hands around yours. You felt your heart skip a beat at the contact, and you were left speechless, fearing any words spoken now would come out as idiotic babbling, “they are gonna love it. Trust me.” His eyebrows rose with emphasis, and he shot you one of his iconic, heart-melting smiles.

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cirilee · 4 years

Text

i just found a text my browser had saved on a word count website, and i apparently typed it last november while being sad - i just wanna have a place to post it, and it explains why i was gone for most of may through november last year.

if you’re interested, u can read, it’s basically just a long long long vent and i wanna save it somewhere :’)

(and if you wanna, you can tell me what u think of the whole thing, maybe share if something like that happened to you too, because man, this whole thing was WEIRD for me)

bottom line is: i’m much better now and have way better friends then back then and in general, i’m a pretty happy person again^^

My parents and me had been fighting a lot the past years. I still love them. For a while though, it was just shouting matches between us. We weren't really speaking to each other throughout january 2019 until april 2019, so i wasn't informed by them that they were planning to mOVE OUT. And the place they wanted to move to only had enough space for 2 people. now my brother and me had 3 months total to find and finance our own flats. i was desperate. 2 months i unsuccessfully searched for a job or a flat or a way to make a deposit for said flat, without any saved up money. an old school friend offered to move out together. i only saw him once every month for group activities. he was nice, but we also had a bit of a history. 3 years ago he had acted kinda scummy and tried to get me to be his girlfriend because "he couldnt find anybody else” - ending in a "movie night with friends" that turned out to be a trap, where the only one spending the night was me because he only invited me. creepy. he apologized and i forgave him and we were chill and it was normal between us. i realize now, that i should have just left him out of my life at that point. but time was running out, so i gave in and asked myself "whats the worst he could do. i’ve known this person for 12 years and the he's part of my friend group" we set up basic rules, how we would pay for stuff, etc. .. we moved in. it seemed fine. then i noticed that he talked A LOT. and he wanted A LOT of attention. after a day of working on my diploma or working at my job, he would assert himself in my room and try to engage in smalltalk. i am not the hermit type. i engaged with him, i joined in on his conversation. but when i was already tired he wouldn't accept "i'm gonna go to sleep". there was always something else he needed to talk about. I was trying to make clear to him that i needed alone time too, but no matter how honest i was, the message either didn't seem to stick, or he'd get upset and start asking me if i hated him. With that, i could have kept up with in the long run. Then he started knocking on my door. even when it was already late and i already told him i was gonna go to sleep. Repeatedly knocking on my door. At some point he just opened the door. It was 1am. I pretended to sleep. I could hear him breathing, it sounded angry. He eventually closed the door. The next morning i confronted him. He argued it away as him trying to warn me that he was going to take a shower, so that i wouldn't use the bathroom. He started commenting on how i wasn't funny enough around him. in that friend group, i'm the funny one :c. but i cant keep up that energy 24/7 (this was supposed to be a home, not a free neverending standup act, for this one guy). that confused him. the next day he asked me if i had depression. My parents had given me a griller/toaster as a parting gift (there’s a backstory for that too but anyways) my flatmate ALSO had that same toaster. He demanded we make up our minds which one to keep. i didn't understand why this was important to him and i hated discussing this useless topic with him so i stored the toaster in my room. He repeatedly suggested i throw mine away (?). One evening i got hungry and decided i'd make myself a toast in my room. So i made some toast. Suddenly he bursts in. And he starts ranting. "why are you doing this are you CRAZY you cant TOAST in your own room thats DANGEROUS you're gonna start a fire, don't ever do that again, we have a KITCHEN for that. why don't you want to use the kitchen you cant just HIDE from me every day, this is OUR flat and i want us to live TOGETHER!" He didn't stop talking and it overwhelmed me, so (this is embarrassing, but) i actually started crying and i turned away from him so i could try to control myself. and he just started babytalking me "awww its alright i didn't mean to scare you, but you see, you shouldn't have done that". he tried putting his arms around me, i told him to stop. "you need a hug right now" ...... i was so angry i think my brain might have short circuited because the next hour was me just acting the whole way through. i told him everything he wanted to hear. i was so sorry for almost burning the house down and made up some explanation that my parents were still making me sad, so i needed distance. The next big thing involved one of my best friends. she wanted to spontaneously go out for an evening. so i put on some pants and of course: HE appears in my room, asking where i'm going. i was surprised by the question and just answered "going out with Lina" he left it at that. then suddenly: "can i come too?" He threw me off with that question. Lina had said she needed some advice on personal stuff, so I said "no" because i didn't have a better answer. he got ANGRY. i explained. "Lina wants some privacy, i'm sorry" He starts arguing that Lina is just as much his best friend, and that he should be allowed to hear what she wants to say to me. Before i can reply he slams his door shut. "Don't even try to explain yourself", he says. I told my friend while meeting up with her and she began with the sympathetic "you should have said yes" and we argued about it and then she came out with this absolutely horrifying sentence: "you know how he is. you cant be *too* honest with him. he's sensitive. you need to lie to him so he doesn't get mad" it was as if i'd been splashed with cold water. i said i didn't agree with that. that that was actually unfair to HIM. nobody likes being lied to and treated less than. she called him, told him i was gonna apologize and he showed up with the angriest expression i ever saw in his face. he accused me of being depressed and that he now has the burden of my mental issues to bear. This he assumed because one night i told him about me dissassociating sometimes a few years ago. Then he wanted me to promise i would never leave him, because he's afraid i won't be able to pay my part of the rent. the crowning moment was my friend Lina mostly agreeing with him and both of them berating me for not having my life together because i still hadn't managed to find an open-ended contract job, only limited-time jobs. at the end he justified himself by saying he cant stand my parents phoning me. (at that point they had started calling me everyday and showed genuine concern ... i was trying to reform a bond with them) - apparently he resented that. he knew about my parents disciplining me with face slaps as a kid (when i was 9-11 yrs old) (they feel bad about it, and they they stopped doing it fairly early) in that moment my flatmate chose to tell me ..... (hoo boy i need to get ready to type this) .... "i'm concerned about you. if your father would ever beat you, i would beat him to a bloody pulp" then he repeated "i would beat him/kill him" a few times, VERY agitatedly. it was scary and at that point i was numb. i didn't really respond, i just said "its fine" or something to that extent. the thing that made me decide to move out (although certainly among many that followed that night) was this: one morning i informed him i was going to visit my parents that weekend. we had started talking again (as i mentioned before and i wanted to meet them without fighting for once). he says "but you're coming back, right". i say "of course don't be so nervous". i go to work. i get a LOT OF texts from him suddenly. i skim through it. he's mad about me calling him "nervous". i don't reply/read bc i am at work. Then he actually CALLS me. i don't pick up. now i'm thinking: What is so important, that he has to call me during work. there's a 4 paragraph essay in my inbox. "watch your mouth", "you have no right to speak that way to me", "you should have more respect". he was mad i called him nervous. i responded that i don't have time to reply. he argued back. at one point i said "if i cant even call you nervous then i'm ACTUALLY gonna stay with my parents" he fiNALLY didn't reply to that. after a 10hour day i come home. i wanna shower. i go to my room, close the door and start undressing myself. of course, there's knocking on my door. i say "No" he flips out. i calmly tell him i'm only half dressed. he flips out even more, says i'm a horrible person who WANTS to fight because my "no" wasn't a good enough answer and i should have explained in full detail why he couldn't get in. he was actually SERIOUS. this was his reasoning for flipping out. he goes away. not even a minute passes by and he hammers his fist against my door again. "OPEN UP THIS TIME I *HAVE* TO COME IN" at this point i'm beginning to get kinda scared so i say "come in" He comes in and says he needs me to disconnect with the wifi because he needs it for his work. i calmly say "ok" and disconnect my wifi. he goes away, leaves the door open. i stand up to go and close my door. HE ACTUALLY GOES AND PULLS AGAINST ME TO TRY TO PRY IT OPEN AGAIN. eventually he lets go and then he flips out FOR REAL. he starts screaming about how i'm a psycho, and that im crazy and awful and he has been nothing but nice and that he "saved" me and i haven't been thankful enough.

.... ..

yes, i was in a difficult position. but that flatmate arrangement was made on even ground. he had wanted to move out from his parents for years. i fled and left. called my parents, but they were miles away and laughed it off. i would have probably too. i called my friends. Lina offered to come and mediate. He continued screaming even with Lina there. It culminated with him roaring at me, pointing at the door saying "if you don't like how i treat you, there's the door, leave right now" with lina replying "don't say that, you NEED her money to pay rent!" it was awful, and an eye-opener. the next day, on the way to work, i decided i was gonna move out. and before i could tell him, i get a message from him (!). An ultimatum. he tells me i have 3 options. 1) leave immediately and take my stuff away within a week. i wouldn't have "pay any more than i've already payed" (it was the first day of that month and i had already payed my rent. nice) 2) stay for half a year, but immediately pay him something so that he knows i'll stay 3) stay indefinitely, but set up a " bevahiour contract" with him, so this "never happens again" i told him i'd take option 1 and then i stayed over at a friends house. then at a friends shared appartement. then at dormitary and soon i'm gonna move in with my younger brother. we've been estranged a bit but grown closer through this whole thing. now Lina and him are still friends and lina blames me for "everyone in our friend group" being mad at him. one of her first concerns, was that her birthday parties are gonna be weird now. i am completely done with her as well and don't want her in my life anymore. according to her, I left him with a rent he cant pay and i should feel bad for that. except i dont. should i though?

#vent #rant

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shon-ha-lock · 4 years

Text

Sweater Weather (harry/niall)

It’s that time of year! I had a blast participating in this year’s 1D Secret Santa. @silveredsound i hope you like my gift!

It was a super cheap flight, in Niall's defense. A real deal. So what if the connection was in a tiny regional airport? In Wisconsin. Three days before Christmas. In the middle of a week of record low temperatures and snowstorms.

Okay. In retrospect, maybe he should have expected something to go wrong.

Niall's plane is the last to touch down in Chippewa Valley before it starts rerouting its incoming flights to airports not currently being blasted by the polar vortex. This is also, of course, when it grounds its outgoing flights “indefinitely”, leaving him and around one hundred other travelers stranded.

The whole airport has just two gates, with one shared, cramped waiting area. A line has snaked itself around that entire space, leading up to the customer service desk, where everyone is waiting for a chance to yell at a single beleaguered United Airlines employee about their flights being cancelled.

Niall contemplates joining the line, but he’s more the type to wait until he can vent his anger by giving the lowest scores possible on a ‘how did we do?’ survey. And besides, just standing near the desk for a few minutes gives him all the information he needs to know, on repeat.

“We sincerely apologize for the inconvenience this is causing our loyal customers,” is the current opener every time someone storms up to the little old lady working the desk. Her reedy voice is placating and increasingly nervous as she assures everyone that United is “currently working with Chippewa to arrange accommodations for anyone whose flight has been delayed by the storm.”

This is comforting until Niall realizes that this means they don’t currently have hotel rooms set up for travelers with missed connections the way larger airports do. No shuttles, no vouchers, not a goddamn thing.

They’re only twenty minutes outside of the little city of Eau Claire, Wisconsin, which probably has at least a few hotels with vacancies, but the odds of finding an Uber driver to brave the storm and get him there are slim to none.

Niall’s not really the type to just stand around in a crisis and twiddle his thumbs, but if he’s being honest with himself, he hasn’t a goddamn clue what to do right now. He flies relatively frequently but he’s never actually had to deal with a flight being cancelled because of the weather, and he’s struck by a childish urge to call home and ask his mother for advice about what to do.

At the moment, it’s looking like he might actually need to call her anyway, because she’s expecting to pick him up from Albany International in five hours, and that’s definitely not happening now. God, he hopes he’ll make it back to New York at some point within the next three days. He’s never spent a Christmas away from home in his twenty six years of life, and he doesn’t want to start now.

He’s well on his way to an anxiety spiral when he notices that there’s one other passenger besides him not angrily crowding around the service desk. He looks to be around Niall’s age, and he’s pawing through a backpack with a resigned expression on his face. After a minute, Niall figures that he must be searching for warmer clothes to put on; the man’s short sleeved shirt is well-equipped to show off all the strange tattoos on his arms, but isn’t exactly appropriate for December in Wisconsin.

Niall, by contrast, is dressed and packed for two weeks of winter in upstate New York. He looks down at his own backpack, aware that it’s stuffed with four different Aran sweaters, and makes a decision. It’s the season for doing good deeds, after all. Making a stranger a little less miserable surely counts.

“Hey there,” Niall says as he walks over to the man, who’s given up looking through his luggage and is now sitting forlornly on one of the waiting area’s cheap plastic benches. He looks up, and Niall’s breath -- well, it honest to God catches in his throat. This guy must be some kind of model, because he’s got just about the most gorgeous face Niall’s ever seen. Green eyes, red lips, the works.

“Hi?” the guy ventures after a few seconds of Niall staring down at him like a lunatic.

Niall can feel himself go red as he hurriedly unzips his backpack, feeling around until he grabs a fistful of wool.

“Here,” he says, pulling out a sweater at random and basically throwing it at the guy’s head.

“You looked cold, so.” He shrugs. He watches this ridiculously good-looking stranger hold out the sweater to examine it, smiling widely for a second before his expression shifts to concern.

“Oh, this is hand-knit, isn’t it? I couldn’t possibly take this,” he says, trying to hand it back to Niall, who takes a step backwards and shoves his hands in his pockets.

“Really, I insist,” he says. “Seriously, you’d be doing me a favor. My grandma still thinks we live in Ireland and makes one for me every year; I’m drowning in the things.” This seems to make the guy only more determined to hand it back to him, but Niall perseveres.

“I’d feel guilty just getting rid of them, but if I tell her I passed one on to a chilly traveler I’ll be grandson of the year, so.”

Niall narrowly avoids pumping a fist in the air in victory when this makes the guy giggle, bite his lip, and finally, reluctantly pull the sweater on over his t-shirt. It’s a sea green that matches his eyes perfectly, which is great, because what Niall really needed was to be even more distracted by a random person’s good looks.

“I can’t thank you enough,” he says once it’s on, his chin-length hair now attractively rumpled. “I was worried I was going to freeze solid the second I went outside.”

He holds out a hand; Niall takes it. Soft palms, manicured and painted fingernails -- this guy might really be a fashion model.

“I’m Harry,” he says. He smiles wide enough when he says it that his cheeks dimple. Niall’s heart is in some serious trouble now.

“I’m Niall,” he replies, letting go of Harry’s hand a second later than is probably appropriate.

He’s not sure how, but he wants to keep the conversation going somehow, just so he has an excuse to look at Harry’s face for a little longer. Before he can come up with something, an ancient intercom crackles to life and makes them both look around.

“Attention, travelers. In two hours, the storm is expected to dissipate enough to start offering shuttles into Eau Claire. Chippewa will be providing vouchers for the following lodgings.”

The announcer rattles off a list of local hotels before repeating the entire message over again. This announcement seems to renew the stranded travelers’ agitation, and they start swarming the service desks with complaints about the wait. Harry and Niall both stay where they are, clearly on the same page about not bullying the elderly. Harry doesn’t seem any happier than the people yelling, though.

“I didn’t manage to sleep on the plane because I was so nervous about the weather and the turbulence,” he confesses to Niall. “I’m pretty sure I’m going to pass out before that shuttle actually gets here.”

“Where are you coming from?” Niall asks. They’re making small talk! Success!

“Well, I started out in Italy thirteen hours ago,” Harry says ruefully. “Then I had a connecting flight in Boston, and from there, I should have gone all the way out to LA, which is where I’m spending Christmas. But I had to book last minute, and the only flights left had an extra connection. So I took a chance on this one, and of course now I’m stuck here.” He pouts as he says it, and it should make him look immature but instead he just looks like he’s posing artfully for Covergirl or something.

“So we’re heading in opposite directions,” Niall says. “I’m coming from LA, and I’m on my way to New York.”

Harry’s eyes light up at this.

“Oh my god, do you live in NYC? I love spending time there, it’s one of my favorite cities in the world.”

Niall sighs and shakes his head in mock-disappointment.

“Everyone loves NYC so much but they always forget about the actual capital of New York.”

When Harry just stares at him blankly, Niall relents and laughs out, “I’m from Albany. My whole family immigrated there from Ireland when I was six months old."

Niall feels a bit awkward at first, talking about his life with someone he just met, but he quickly learns that Harry is the type of old soul who loves to make conversation with strangers. And by the time the shuttles start actually arriving he can't say that the two of them are strangers anymore.

He learns that Harry's lived in LA his whole life, and so traveling anywhere that's cold knocks him off his feet. Niall's only lived in California since he started attending UCLA (at first as an undergrad and now for post-graduate work) but it turns out he and Harry have several mutual acquaintances, which delights Harry to no end, and he seems more interested in Niall's classes last semester than Niall was, asking questions about what he learned and whether the professors were cool or boring.

He's in the middle of a rant about early morning lectures when the intercom starts announcing that they'll be able to start shuttling people into the city soon. Which of course means that the two of them are going to have to go their separate ways.

Harry starts fussing with his luggage again, seeming almost shy now, and thanks Niall again for the sweater.

Niall scrambles for something else to say to forestall a goodbye.

“How did you know it was hand-knit?” is the only question he comes up with, but it's effective.

"Oh!" Harry exclaims, going all smiley again.

"The pattern was really detailed, and I could see how tight the stitches were. Didn't seem likely that a machine made it," he says.

"Wow, you've got a real eye. Do you work in fashion or something?" Niall asks, wondering if his initial impression was right after all.

"Or something," Harry says, seeming embarrassed for some reason. "I um, do modelling work sometimes. Shoots for Gucci, mainly, but other brands too. It's why I was in Italy, actually."

Holy shit. There’s an actual Gucci model wearing one of his grandma’s sweaters right now. What a thought. His mom is going to flip when he finally gets to New York and tells her all about this.

"That's really cool," Niall tells him, scrambling to think of a segue into asking for his number that doesn't come off like he's just trying to hook up with a model.

As luck would have it, Harry provides one for him - by asking for his grandmother’s phone number.

“Or even just her mailing address,” Harry rushes on when Niall bursts out laughing.

“I’d like to personally thank her for making such a pretty sweater that’s doing such a good job of keeping me warm.”

“Well, I’m going to be seeing her for Christmas in a few days, if the weather calms down. You could call me and I could just hand my phone over to her.”

It’s not particularly subtle, but luckily Harry doesn’t call him out on it. In fact, his face goes a bit sly, and he looks Niall up and down for a moment.

“Sounds like a plan to me,” Harry says, and then whips out an honest-to-god gel pen from nowhere to physically write his phone number on Niall’s hand.

“Text me when you get a chance, and we’ll have each other’s numbers that way,” he says cheerily.

A few minutes later, they go their separate ways - Niall with Harry’s phone number written in bright green ink on the back of his hand, and Harry with a signature Grandma Horan sweater to keep him warm.

As he passes the service area, Niall cheerfully plucks a survey card from the desk. Seems like he’s going to give United a glowing review after all.

#hs #narry #my fic #1dficsecretsanta #harry styles #niall horan #fic

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shenanigans-and-imagines · 4 years

Note

Hello! This message is an open invitation to share anything you want people to know about any of your OCs, or any headcanons you may have for canon characters that you haven't gotten to voice! Have fun and share with us your thoughts!

I’m in a really soft mood all the sudden, so I want to rant about Sera and Bodhi for a bit.

In my brain, everyone survives Scarif. Bodhi loses a hand. Sera has some fun new scars. Everybody is too injured to help with the battle of Yavin. BUT, they’re all still alive.

After this, Sera develops a not so secret crush on Bodhi. He was the one with her during the battle of Scarif, not to mention saved her life after throwing the grenade out of the ship, which he totally did. It only gets worse as she gets to know Bodhi more and more through missions, hanging around the ship and just talking to him.

Bodhi meanwhile is sweating. He likes Sera almost immediately. She’s the one who helped pull him back to reality in the cave. She showed him unapologetic kindness after everything he’s been through with Saw’s people, and is just a bright light of hope in every situation. The longer he knows her, it only gets worse. He doesn’t have Cassian or any of the other soldier’s hang up of seeing her as this little kid. To him she’s this bright, pretty, strong young woman who he’s starting to fall for.

I’m thinking it takes a little while for them to get together. For one, they need time to really get to know each other outside of a crisis situation. Second, they’re both worried about ruining the friendship they’ve formed with each other. And third, Bodhi is awkward and doesn’t know when somebody is flirting with him.

They’re not that subtle and everyone knows how Sera and Bodhi feel about each other, accept Cassian. Cassian has a bit of a blind spot when it comes to Sera. In the back of his mind he always sees her as the little girl hiding in the vents of a stolen ship. Whatever romantic feels she has towards a person are dismissed as “a little crush” like she’s still twelve years old. It takes Jyn having to explain to him, very clearly that Sera is a young woman now and these “little crushes” actually have a lot more weight to them.

Eventually Sera makes the first move after having a nice chat with Baze about it. She does the vague “well, there’s this guy” thing and Baze immediately recognizes who “this guy” is. He essentially tells her that if she doesn’t tell him how she feels, it’s just going to eat away at her for the rest of her life and if the relationship is strong, even if he rejects her, they can survive it. Sera is like “that’s great advice, I’ll be right back”, finds Bodhi, kisses him full on the mouth and says something to the effect of “I like your face, let’s date”.

And now for a series of random couple questions I have taken the time to answer.

Which one hogs the blanket?

It’s a tie, both Bodhi and Sera are very sensitive to cold.

Which one is ticklish?

Bodhi. Sera found out completely by accident. She tries only to use her powers for good.

Which one proposes?

Sera, it just kind of slips out. They’re lying in bed, Bodhi says something, and she says “We could get married.” Bodhi thinks she’s joking, but he looks down and instead of joking she’s looking down embarrassed. “Hey,” he says making her look up at him, “are you serious?” “Yes. I’d really like to marry you someday Bodhi Rook. Do you want to marry me?” “Yes.”

Who buys the really expensive things and who returns the really expensive things bc they needed that money for rent?

Both of them are rather good with money, so it doesn’t get that bad. However, every now and then Sera is able to save a bit of money and spends it on something frivolous. Bodhi: It’s really nice, but we could have used it towards an actual couch. Sera: But dinosaur cookies. Bodhi: Never mind, you’re totally right.

Who is very excited about adventure and who is thinking about how life threatening it is?

Sera is all for danger. She’s been part of the rebellion for years, danger is her middle name. So yeah, I’m going to totally crawl through the vents of this Empire facility to gather the information we need. Bodhi: Please don’t.

Person A of your OTP returning home from war after Person B has believed them to be dead for many months. Are they happy/confused? Do they think they’re hallucinating?

If Bodhi were to come back from a mission after being presumed dead. Sera would lose it. Not caring who's watching she’d run straight to his arms and dissolve into a sobbing mess. She’d hold onto him as if she’s afraid he’d disappear. Bodhi for his part would hold her to him breathing in her scent knowing at last he’s home.

If Sera were to come back Bodhi would be in shock. He’d slowly walk towards her not trusting his eyes. She’d smile, anxious that he’s angry with her for not re-establishing contact sooner. He reaches her and they stand in silence for a moment. Sera smiles weakly, “Hi”. Bodhi pulls her into a hug which Sera returns letting out a strangled laugh, “Hi.”

Who sleeps in the other’s lap?

Sera. She likes sleeping in the cockpit of the ship while on missions and usually sits herself down on Bodhi’s lap. Although Bodhi does have a tendency to fall asleep while resting his head on her thigh while she runs her fingers through his hair.

Who made the first move?

Sera almost certainly made the first move. Bodhi would have liked her for a longer time, but never did anything because A) the age difference, B) not knowing if Cassian would approve, and C) thinking she deserved someone braver than him. Sera at some point would kiss him and tell him how much she likes him. He would then be the first to say “I love you”.

What’s each other their cell phone contact names for each other?

Before Relationship: Bodhi for Sera: Stars, Sera for Bodhi: The Pilot

In Relationship: Bodhi for Sera: My Stars, Sera for Bodhi: My Pilot

Who’s the one to go to the grocery store with a full list of what they need, and who’s the one that goes for one thing and gets everything else but that one thing?

Bodhi checks and double checks the list to make sure they’ve got everything they need at the store. Sera usually goes to buy milk or some other little thing, and ends up getting stuff for a nice dinner, but totally forgets the milk.

What are their plans for the future?

After the war is over and the Empire is defeated, they both want to start a family of their own and find some quiet place in the outer rim to settle down. They’ll continue helping the rebellion in getting a government up and running, but after that that small farm on Yavin 4 is calling their name.

Who was popular in high school and who lies that they were just to impress the other?

Sera wasn’t popular in the stereotypical sense, but most people know her and seem to like her.

Bodhi more blended into the background and didn’t have a lot of friends. Mainly he was just trying to get it over with.

Who knocks on the other’s door crying at 4am?

Before they start dating, they usually try to keep their trauma to themselves. Bodhi usually ends up getting up to work on his ship to cope while Sera either lies in bed or goes to one of the ships to sleep. After they start dating, Bodhi still doesn’t go to her, partially because tinkering is the only way to calm his nerves and partially because he wants to be as brave and she thinks he is. Sera at first doesn’t go to him since she still wants to appear like the bright happy person, but eventually she caves and knocks on his door.

Who collects rocks and shells when they go to the beach and who thinks it’s dumb?

Sera collects all sorts of little trinkets from different planets she’s gone to over the years. Bodhi actually likes it and sometimes brings back things of his own to add to the collection.

#bodhi rook #bodhi rook x reader #bodhi rook x oc #riz ahmed #rogue one #star wars #sera darros #my oc stuff #bodhi x sera

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ice-cream-nekogirl · 4 years

Photo

And though I know since you've awakened her again She depends on you, she depends on you She'll go alone, and never speak of this again We depend on you We depend on you…

Amy and Hitoshi:

Awwww… the best Judies~. I also like to call them “The Will and Grace of UA” because Amy and Shinsou are… very much like Will and Grace, very close enough to make playful jabs and insults to each other.

Their love is deep but again, purely platonic and full of loyalty, candor and trust… to the point where it’s slightly gross since these two are almost TOO honest with each other XD There’s a TV Trope called ‘Platonic Life Partners’ and that’s more or less Amy and Shinsou’s friendship.

Amy and Shinsou have been best friends since they were toddlers as Amy notes that their mothers used to bathe them together, much to Shinsou’s immense embarrassment when she brings that up but notes that she doesn’t even remember any of that because they were like 3 at the time. Although he does express in annoyance that Amy used to have a habit of running around his house naked.

As each other’s childhood best friends, Amy and Shinsou are very close and very much like a brother and sister, with Amy even annoying him often like a sister and Shinsou treating her like a pest because she is but can give her real brotherly advice and affection. And despite driving each other crazy half the time, the pair can be their most authentic selves around each other as Amy can vent about anything to Shinsou, and Shinsou can lean on Amy for emotional support and open up to her about things that bother him.

Humorously, Amy and Shinsou have an extremely unfiltered friendship centered around almost WAY too much honesty, with the two being able to share WAY too much information with one another as Shinsou and Amy have no problems discussing private matters or straight up gross things with one another (ex: Amy can casually talk about her period with Shinsou, and Shinsou tells Amy whenever he has a body issue such as jock itch or BO).

Everyone calls Shinsou an ‘enabler’ when it comes to Amy, which is not entirely untrue even though he constantly denies it. But Amy’s just as much an enabler as he is and doesn’t bat an eyelash to his habits. At least until he gets into a relationship with Ashlen and Amy vigorously helps him out but tells him to start being a little nicer and cleaner. But that just shows how close they are, how much they’re like brother and sister and nothing more than that, because Amy and Shinsou are living proof that a boy and a girl CAN be just friends.

Now I’ll start from the beginning…

Amy and Shinsou’s parents were friends with each other, and so when they were born, Amy and Shinsou’s respective mothers liked to set up playdates when they were toddlers. Amy and Shinsou stuck to each other like they were siblings, playing together and causing mischief especially when they were 5 years old.

According to Shinsou however, he and Amy learned each other’s names when they were both 4 years old in daycare, and he tells Ashlen and Tokoyami that on their first day of daycare, Amy clung to him even though they were children who didn’t entirely understand a lot of things. Shinsou also mentioned that he had to share his things with Amy, and admits that while it annoyed him at the time that Shinsou grew fond of Amy, and started to love her and view her as the sister he never had.

As they grew up together, even at a young age Shinsou was perceptive enough to pick up that Amy was even more immature than he was as he watched her get in trouble many times for accidentally knocking over a cake and eating from it, getting lost at the store or climbing into a claw-machine to take a toy.

Shinsou and Amy went to school together, and were each other’s only friends for all of elementary school and constantly played games together but also got in trouble together that Shinsou claims was “Amy’s fault 90 percent of the time”, even though it was actually 50-50 between the two of them. Amy protected Shinsou from bullies when they were kids, especially when they called him a villain and mocked his quirk, much to Shinsou’s slight embarrassment because while he made sure Amy didn’t get in trouble, he felt bad that Amy always protected him. But he also protected Amy from bullies when they thought she was quirkless and told her that he didn’t care that she was quirkless and still liked her just fine.

At least until Amy learned about her witch heritage and began manifesting her powers, and Shinsou felt a little bit jealous that Amy had cool powers such as telekinesis, teleportation and Concilium. Nonetheless, they still treated each other no different, and in fact, their pranks actually got worse because of Amy’s newfound powers. The two even used their powers mainly for shits and giggles whether it was taking cookies and sweets off the counter, pranking Shinsou’s father or pantsing bullies, including a young Katsuki Bakugo that Amy and Shinsou wouldn’t meet up until later in their teen years.

Unfortunately, when Amy’s parents are killed by witch hunters, Shinsou and his family mourned and grieved them, and although they wanted to take Amy in, Fiona Goode and Myrtle Snow said that they were the ones who needed to take care of Amy instead because it would be too risky for non-witches and warlocks to look after her. Likewise, the pro-heroes didn’t want to allow it because they claimed it would be ‘better’ for Amy to be raised by people ‘like her’, even though they actually feared that the radical witch hunters would kill other innocent people.

When Amy left Japan for Robichaux, Shinsou broke down hard and cried when he watched her leave as Amy was the only friend he ever had. After her departure, Shinsou became even colder and more aloof to others, and didn’t want to make any other friends. Instead he proceeded to focus on himself to forget about Amy, but couldn’t bring himself to completely forget about her as he missed her terribly.

Meanwhile, at Robichaux, Amy was miserable for the first couple of months because she wanted Shinsou with her because she knew he would be able to comfort her after all the horrible things she had seen. However, her apathetic caretaker Fiona and cruel witch sister Madison told her to forget about him, and even a sympathetic but serious Zoe and Myrtle told her that there’s no point in crying over Shinsou because he’s not there and not coming for her. Hardened, Amy reluctantly let go of Shinsou so she could focus on protecting her coven. But when the bloodshed was over, after 5 years is when Amy decided that it was safe enough for her to go back to Japan just so she could see Shinsou again.

Cordelia gave her permission as she knew that Amy wanted to see her friend again and also wanted to be a hero with the other pro-heroes who rescued her those years ago, but the Supreme told her to be careful and that the hero society won’t deserve her, much to Amy’s confusion.

As Amy returns to Japan after so long, she passes the entrance exams with flying colors and gets into the Hero Course, but after she leaves the school for the first time, she senses Shinsou’s presence and hurriedly makes her way over in hopes of finding him and catches him at the right time when he’s about to exit UA (as he had successfully gotten in as well). When the childhood friends see each other after 5 years, they are both stunned into silence and slowly approach each other, once they realize that they are not figments of each other’s imaginations they quickly share a loving, tearful embrace. Afterwards, Shinsou doesn’t hesitate to take her to his home to greet his parents after so long and she is lovingly welcomed back by his mother and father. Shinsou’s father tells her that there’s always a place for her at their house, but Amy politely declines as she was given her own home (Fiona’s old mansion) by Cordelia. Nonetheless, Amy enjoys a welcoming party from the Shinsou family and she spends the rest of the day with her best friend.

Although Shinsou was admittedly bummed out and jealous that Amy made it into the Hero Course and she playfully teases him that she’s ‘always been stronger than him’ but a self-deprecating Shinsou doesn’t deny that and agrees with her. However, he does admit to Amy that it has been hard getting through school because of all the discrimination and Amy comforts him by telling him that she understands since while witches were outed to the world, there’s still discrimination. The two best friends then declare that they’ll overcome that together and become heroes as “The Witch and The Brainwasher”.

During the Sports Festival, Amy was on Shinsou’s team and Amy had no problem with Shinsou using her classmates Ojiro and Aoyama, nor did Amy have a problem with him mind-controlling them. In fact, Amy was his biggest cheerleader, even when he was against Midoriya, whom Amy had a crush on at the time. And Amy was at Shinsou’s side when he was defeated by Midoriya, but while he was grateful for the support he also told Amy to focus on beating her own opponents such as Kaminari, and he had no qualms quietly cheering for her during her fights against Kaminari, Iida and Todoroki, but got worried when she fought against Todoroki. Shinsou then checked up on Amy after she was defeated by Todoroki, because he could tell that Todoroki didn’t beat Amy using his full strength and that Amy was distracted by a new power awakening.

Their friendship is eventually recognized by Amy’s classmates when the Sports Festival ended, and because of their closeness, some of her friends such as Kaminari and Sero accused her of having feelings for Shinsou and vice-versa, which did confuse them for a little bit. Amy denied having any feelings for Shinsou and expressed disgust at the thought because she admits that she doesn’t view Shinsou like that. Shinsou, feeling peer-pressured and uncertain about how he feels about Amy, takes her out to the movies to watch Infinity War and play games at the arcade as a ‘date’. And Amy awkwardly agreed to do so, but when he feels nothing other than light-hearted fun with his friend, he confesses that he only loves her as a best friend and can’t feel any sort of romantic love for her.

Shinsou: Amy…You and I have known each other forever, we’re best friends right? Well, I’ve realized something ever since you’ve been gone. Every person has someone in their life that they can’t live without. And that person is someone who steals a bounce-house for you on your birthday because you desperately wanted one. Someone who sneaks you out of class when you get food poisoning and goes into the boy’s bathroom to wash the vomit out of your hair. Someone who picks you up and feeds you ice cream when you’re just so miserable you need to drown it in everything that can’t possibly be healthy. Amy Martinez, that person is you. But I don’t love you. I mean, I do love you but I don’t love-love you like that. I can’t...

Amy: (touched) Hitoshi… I don’t love-love you either, not like that, but I do love you too. I love you platonically Hitoshi Shinsou. and that’s all. Like... seriously that is all.

Shinsou: (smiles) Yeah… me too Ames… okay since this ain’t a date no more and I already paid, let’s just watch Infinity War. As FRIENDS.

Amy: Friends! Ooh but get me a bunch of snacks! Chocolate! (Shinsou rolls his eyes)

Amy, touched by his words, confesses that she feels the exact same way and says that she absolutely loves him, but cannot romantically love him either. Happy and relieved, the friends proceed to enjoy each other’s company and later prank the people in the movie theater and smugly tell the students of 1-A that they’re just friends.

That being said, their relationship has had its ups and downs because of Amy’s new emotional instability that Shinsou quickly picks up on. Although Amy felt bad for letting him see that she wasn’t all there, she felt comfortable enough around him to open up about her issues because she knew Shinsou would never judge her for anything. And she was proven right, and although Shinsou was initially confused and alarmed by the new changes in his friend, he still kept an eye on Amy and realized that her temper is worse than it used to be, and her reactions are much more intense and inappropriate which he assumes is from trauma.

But because Amy up until this point, had acted like her normal and energetic self around him, he still acknowledges her as the girl from his childhood but who had been changed because of things she had seen. So he doesn’t act any different in spite of the revelation that Amy is prone to mood swings, although he does act more fearful when he senses that she’s going to get angry.

Nonetheless, he was extremely worried when she was taken along with Bakugo, and spent the last three nights tossing and turning, unable to sleep because he was worried that she was going to get hurt. To the point of having a mental breakdown until his father comforts him, telling him that Amy’s a strong girl and that the pro-heroes are going to find her which put him at some ease. And he is beyond relieved when Amy does come back rescued, but is dispirited when he finds out that Amy was rescued by Madison rather than the 1-A students and heroes as she tells him everything. Shinsou realized that Amy was upset that her classmates couldn’t rescue her and despite the fear he felt, he stood by her side and comforted her.

Shortly afterwards, his unwavering patience with her is put to a test after the Overhaul arc where Amy’s newfound realization about the pro-heroes abandonment her drives her to the brink. To the point where Amy opted out her classes Culture Festival event and instead went to the General Studies with Shinsou to help with their haunted house and he was well aware that Amy wasn’t well due to her irritability and the fact that he had caught her disassembling things with her telekinesis fueled by her anger.

Shinsou felt way too scared to say anything, he said nothing to provoke her when they spoke, and merely agreed with everything she was saying and even tried to cheer her up as she was working with him by making the jokes she normally would. To his relief some of the jokes worked but he still sensed her anger, but also sympathized with her and felt some anger too when he learned that had the heroes taken care of her like they planned to do for Eri, that she never would have had to leave Japan and could have stayed and not inadvertently have him suffer losing his best friend.

He also realized just how embittered and resentful Amy became towards Midoriya, Aizawa and the entirety of UA and that it wasn’t just a mood swing this time since her anger wasn’t wavering. He began to fear that if they weren’t careful that she was going to explode and potentially destroy the school, and so he did his best to cheer her up. Unfortunately, his fears come true during 1-A’s concert as he sees her bubbling with rage over her classmates having a good time without her, and when she runs out he desperately runs after her to follow, but his efforts are futile as Amy angrily flies back to her mansion.

As he tried hard to call and text her, Amy reluctantly ignored all of his calls for fear that she would hurt him. As Amy was aware that Shinsou had stuck with her the entire time, but knew she was going to do something foolish and reckless, so she deliberately avoided him so she could spare him from getting hurt or in any sort of trouble.

The next day, she starts spiraling out of control and lashing out by attacking UA, but makes sure to avoid actually hurting the students unless they attack her. Distraught by his friend’s meltdown, Shinsou takes it upon himself to try and talk her down and bring her back to her mansion. Although, he didn’t get out of that incident unscathed as he was slightly wounded by falling debris that he ignored for the sake of getting Amy to come down from her high. In the process he had to brainwash some people as students were told to evacuate and get away, but he had no plans to leave her. In the nick of time, Shinsou finds Amy in the middle of her fight with Midoriya, and inadvertently saves Midoriya from being maimed by Amy’s Sentio Furia, as he calls for her when seeing her about to perform the deed.

Looking up at her sadly, A remorseful Amy ceases the attack and she comes down from the fury over to Shinsou who offered to walk her back home as she angrily told the teachers that she’s quitting the school. Later on in the aftermath of the destruction she caused, Shinsou would even defend Amy from Aizawa, The Big 3 and the staff of UA and doesn’t let them put any blame on her and even makes excuses for her actions by saying that she’s been through enough and that she shouldn’t be judged for what she does.

Shinsou: I know it looks bad but, Amy is not bad, she just grew up in an environment that showed her a lot of bad things, the person who took care of her, turned out to be a bad person. She never wanted that life, she was forced into it and learned to do bad things, but it’s not her fault.

Aizawa: She’s unstable Shinsou. Although I admit, I should have considered what could have happened if she was under Fiona’s care. I regret it, it was my mistake trusting Fiona. But the damage Martinez did is done, and that’s my fault. I knew that witches were powerful, yet I didn’t even think to keep her in check.

Shinsou: Aizawa-sensei, please, she’s part of your class isn’t she? She’s part of our school. She’s one of us, yeah… she might be a witch, but she’s here to be a hero, just like everyone else is here.

Aizawa: I know you feel close to her, but there’s a lot you still don’t know about witches Shinsou. You don’t know how much they’re capable of, and that only makes them more dangerous and unpredictable.

Nezu: Exceptionally powerful beings. I supposed we overlooked Ms. Martinez’s capability of destruction and took her at face value when she came in with such an upbeat personality. A loss of a potential hero, but perhaps allowing her to quit was the right choice for the sake of all our students and teachers given her mental state.

Shinsou: (clenching his fists) I know she messed up the school, I know she has issues, but you’re… you’re all talking about her like she’s s-some kind of an animal that needs to be kept in a cage…

Cordelia: (doesn’t even announce her presence) And she most certainly is not.

Although Shinsou also affirms that even though Amy did do some seriously bad things and doesn’t deny what she’s done, he argues that they shouldn’t turn her away either. His best efforts are largely ignored though because the staff was more concerned about the damage and upset that she caused, but before Shinsou could say something is when an incensed Cordelia stepped in and shamed all of the teachers and the heroes in the room, while also telling them to pardon all of her punishments.

But, later on, Amy goes on a hedonistic bender with Madison, which forces Shinsou and several of the 1-A students to go looking for her. They eventually found her, with Amy claiming that she’s going back to New Orleans, but Bakugou and Shinsou manage to convince her to stay. Although Amy is still unwilling to speak with her other classmates, she is taken back home by Shinsou. The following day, as 1-A is discussing their erratic classmate’s situation, Shinsou visits to explain everything about Amy in hopes to clear the air.

Unfortunately, after Amy’s attack on UA her classmates are left shocked, horrified but also greatly saddened by what their friend and classmate had done. To the point of feeling guilty for not stopping her and letting their friendship with her act as a crutch when it came to bringing her down. But when some of them start doubting if Amy was any good to begin, Shinsou doesn’t hesitate to tell them how Amy truly is.

He tried to extend his perspective of her onto the other students, but many of them began assuming that she’s mentally unfit, only for Shinsou to state that her instability isn’t her fault, and also makes sure to let Amy’s classmates try to understand her. However, they all became much more afraid of her than they were initially as witnessing her attack the school and subdue the teachers and the Big 3 showed them just how destructive she is.

Although classmates such as Kaminari and Todoroki were more willing to give him and Amy the benefit of the doubt due to personally knowing her as well. Tsuyu, Mirio, Iida and Tokoyami commented that she’s more dangerous than they imagined due to her being unstable and yet still in control of her power, much to Shinsou’s annoyance as he angrily rebuffs them and goes off on them when some of them even liken her to a villain in the making. He also calls them out for the double standards that they are projecting onto Amy as well during his tirade.

Kirishima: (with a despondent look) Why does it feel so… wrong?

Shinsou: (to everyone in the dorms) Amy was your friend too. That’s why. She cared about you guys, liked you even.

Tsuyu: (in a sad, yet dubious tone) She was our friend, and yet it didn’t stop her from attacking our school, our teacher, and our friend Midoriya. A friend wouldn’t do that, and they wouldn’t be so willing to do that either. We all knew that she was a trouble-maker, but I didn’t know she could be so mean.

Kaminari: Hehe, okay c’mon hold the phone, maybe it’s not what a friend would do but, she must have been having a really bad day or something, I mean she was pretty grumpy before we even got started on the Culture Festival stuff. Amy likes to make jokes like me, but she is not mean, she was just having a bad day, nobody’s really their best on a bad day.

Shinsou: Exactly. You think she meant to hurt anyone? She’s not like that.

Iida: That’s no excuse for putting other students in danger, and she did just that. She let her emotions get to her and she left all of this destruction in her path. Attacked her own classmate, her own teacher and put everyone’s lives at risk, whether she meant it or not. She has no moral restraint…

Shinsou: (clenches his fists) Moral restraint? Is that all you care about? You have no idea what was going on at the time…

Todoroki: Something was troubling her, memories of her past no doubt. I thought something was wrong, but I didn’t even think to ask. I don’t know what was going on, but I’m sure it was painful for her. That anger, I saw it in her eyes, and that kind of anger can blind anyone, but I know Martin-… Amy. She isn’t cruel by nature, I don’t think she intended to truly harm anyone, because she didn’t hurt any of us, except for… Midoriya. But I think there was some restraint on her part, she put us all to sleep rather than harming us even when we tried to get her to stop.

Tokoyami: That’s because Martinez is much more powerful than we took her for. There is some restraint but that’s why she’s so strong. With a power than can expand to such lengths, I can imagine it’s hard to control when her emotions overwhelm her, and yet it seems that she does so willingly, she knows her magic well. Well enough to keep her own restraint on it, and only loses it because she wants to and knows how to manipulate it. She retains a sense of control over her powers even when they spiral out of control, combine that with her lack of regard for others, selfishness and unwillingness to be reasoned with. She’s dangerous, and her losing control of her magic so freely to attack her own allies only makes her even more dangerous to others.

Shinsou: (getting increasingly defensive) So what if she has dangerous powers? That doesn’t mean anything, your quirk is dangerous, Bakugo and Todoroki’s quirks are dangerous, that girl Midoriya saved, her quirk is dangerous, hell… even Midoriya’s own quirk is dangerous, so why is Amy being singled out when your quirks are just as guilty of being dangerous?

Mirio: Because she used her power against her own friends! Look at what she did to our school, and you weren’t there when she was being so mean to little Eri. Then she hurt our teachers, she hurt my friends, and tried to kill Midoriya, her own friend, and whether she hurt her other classmates or not, she still put them in danger and she hurt people. She didn’t care who she hurt, she did what she wanted, and disturbed a peaceful day at school, only… a villain would do something like that don’t you think?

Shinsou: (loses all of his remaining patience as he chuckles) A villain? You think she’s a villain? (suddenly shouting) What the hell do any of you know?! I know her better than anyone! If you think I’m oblivious or ignoring this I’m not! I get it! She’s made some serious mistakes! I know she has! I know she as a lot of issues, I know exactly just how messed up she is, but she is NOT bad, she is not the monster you’re all making her out to be. She is not a villain! She’s a very emotionally disturbed girl and none of you can get that! Just because she’s not some sad thing crying for out for help from a hero or some goody goody two shoes wannabe hero doesn’t mean she doesn’t deserve to be helped or treated like a lost cause!

Bakugo: Hey loser! Stop acting like you’re the only one who knows her!

Shinsou: What makes you think you know her?! You don’t know her at all! I understand her better than all of you! (Bakugo seethes with rage but Kirishima stops him from trying to attack)

Midoriya: (finally speaks up) Shinsou! She’s our friend too! You don’t think we’re sad too?! She... has serious issues, I thought she did but I just didn’t see it until later, but you’re not the only one who’s sad, you’re not the only one worried about her, you don’t think we know how it feels knowing a friend is struggling?!

Shinsou: No you don’t know how it feels! You only care about yourselves and a bunch of rando strangers! None of you can possibly understand what it’s like to know that your own family is struggling! None of you!

Shinsou is very defensive of Amy, especially when people don’t listen to him about her, and will even defend her from friends as he quickly states that they can’t understand her the way he does, but is prone to being hurtful and pointing out others flaws when they start pointing out Amy’s flaws regardless of if he’s friends with them or not. It is most likely because Shinsou knows what it’s like to be outcasted in favor of others, much like Amy has been almost all their lives. Also, because Amy is like family to him, he is very protective of her and gets extremely angry if people start assuming that she’s villainous or a bad person, whether he’s friends with them or not.

Nonetheless, after this incident Shinsou makes sure to give everyone a certain ‘protocol’ whenever Amy is in a bad mood, and frequently tells them to be mindful of her so she doesn’t get triggered for the sake of seeing her happy and unbothered. Usually he does this ‘for their own good’ but can easily disregard them if they don’t listen to him about her.

Unfortunately, the next day Amy refuses to speak to Shinsou out of guilt for everything she had done and because she was using scrying in the bathtub to spy on the teachers and her classmates which makes her avoid him once she sees how much she’s burdened him and upon seeing what her teachers and classmates really think of her. Not wanting Shinsou to lose everything and the respect others have for him, Amy considers to cut him off of her friendship so he doesn’t have to sacrifice anything else for her. And also at that point she began to genuinely think that Shinsou would be better off without her, so she stops calling and texting him and ignoring all of his calls and texts.

But Shinsou becomes very upset when she doesn’t answer his calls or texts and he goes to her mansion out of worry. Amy avoids him entirely, feeling that she isn’t going to do any good for him and that he should focus on his heroic progress instead of her. Shinsou on the other hand, despite his priorities is still worried about Amy and cares for her enough to look for her. But then Amy tries to get him to leave her alone by texting that she doesn’t want to be his friend anymore. Hurt, Shinsou angrily yells for her to tell him face to face, but an emotional Amy does come to him and tearfully admits that she lied and still wants to be his friend.

Shinsou calms her down and listens to her side of the story, and he gets a much clearer understanding of her plight and was extremely horrified when she recounted every single horror she lived through in New Orleans. Afterwards he continued to show great concern for her well-being and visited her at her mansion everyday to check on her while she recovered from her meltdown.

Shinsou: So you watched Misty, Nan, Fiona... all of them... die?

Amy: Yeah… pretty much. Then the rest of the other shit happened, and I come back and realized that none of that shit would have happened if the heroes took me in. But I guess it wasn’t meant to be.

Shinsou: (silent for a while even though he doesn’t hide his disappointment and sympathy) How the fuck did you survive all of that?

Amy: I don’t know. I almost wish I didn’t. Maybe it’d be better, it’s why I told you that ‘I don’t wanna be friends’ bullshit, I’m not any good for you Hitoshi… I’m sorry. I just wanted to protect you from me.

Shinsou: Stop. That’s not necessary. Just talk to me, you know I wouldn’t do that for anyone else, but just talk to me if you feel like you’re going to break again. Okay?

Amy: (smiles softly) Okay.

Although Amy started to get more irritable and more irrational when Shinsou had to go train with Aizawa, since she was still mad at him. Despite this and another argument later, Amy and Shinsou reached an understanding as she apologized because she knew Shinsou wasn’t at fault for anything and he forgives him.

As he visited her often, Mallory and Madison told him to give her space and he reluctantly did so when it became apparent that there were times when even he couldn’t do anything to make her feel better. Dejected but accepting of this, Shinsou’s concern for Amy remained but he also made sure to live his own life. Although he did still play his part and do his best to cheer her up whenever she looked depressed and was elevated whenever she showed a willingness to have fun with him during her isolation.

However, in the original timeline when Amy has to return to Robichaux to help her coven due to the rising threat of the Anti-Christ Michael Langdon, Shinsou is once again crestfallen to have to see his friend leave as he tearfully comments that he lost her again. Fortunately, he was able to see her again thanks to Cordelia’s spell keeping him and the rest of 1-A and Aizawa asleep under Misty’s Louisiana Swamp mud when Michael destroys the Earth and they are allowed to emerge and reunite briefly with Amy and the witches. Shinsou would then put his life on the line to save Amy from the Anti-Christ as when Michael begins his attack, Shinsou quickly urges Amy to go help Mallory and briefly fights with Michael.

Sadly, Michael easily overpowers him and breaks his hand when he tries to punch him, and when Michael attempts to follow Amy, Shinsou uses his capture weapon in a desperate attempt to get him away from her, willing to die so Amy can live and save the world. Unfortunately, this move allows Michael to pull Shinsou closer to him, allowing him to grab his neck and snap it, killing him and destroying his soul, which horrifies Amy as she screams and wails for him.

Although Amy was overwhelmed upon feeling Shinsou’s soul disappear, along with the rest of her classmates who fought against Michael to help the witches, it was Shinsou’s death and her friends’ death that motivated her to hurry and rush to help Mallory with the Tempus Infinitum spell.

Thankfully, Cordelia’s sacrifice allows Mallory’s power to awaken and Amy doesn’t hesitate to follow her and give her power to her so they can both go back in time to prevent the Anti-Christ from rising. As Amy and Mallory return to 5 years in the past, she is disturbed by all the memories that come flooding back to her, but remains focused on the task at hand as she and Mallory are allowed to redeem the Anti-Christ and prevent the apocalypse in the new and current timeline.

Amy was aware that she could technically change all of what happened, but agreed with Mallory that they shouldn’t change the entirety of the future and only change some of the worse aspects that impacted the witches as Amy reluctantly agrees. Although, when Amy reunited with Shinsou oncemore, the second meeting (that Shinsou wasn’t aware of) was even more tearful as Amy clung to him and cried outloud for him.

As all of the events that happened in the original timeline play out, Amy finds herself once again isolated in her mansion as she realized that she hadn’t completely changed from the original timeline because of how the events still played out exactly the same. Fortunately in this current timeline Amy is still being cared for by Mallory, Madison and Shinsou and then she would meet her new best friend Ashlen on the internet, who became a source of comfort for Amy. However, Shinsou was somewhat distrustful of her new internet friend, as he became even more protective of Amy and grew wary of anyone else who got close to her because he didn’t want her to get hurt again. Despite that, he trusted Amy’s judgment as she happily kept chatting with her new friend.

When Amy eventually decided to return to UA, Shinsou was ecstatic as the two of them shared an affectionate, tearful hug, especially since Amy had returned during the War arc.

Amy then would take him and 1-A to New Orleans as an apology and as a means to help her friends recover from the events of the War arc.

Although upon being attacked by witch hunters in New Orleans Shinsou was crestfallen when he had to watch Amy get killed by the witch hunters who succeeded in impaling her and was inconsolable when he believed her to be dead. Fortunately Misty and Cordelia were able to find her body in the ocean and revived her as the two friends tearfully hug. Afterwards Shinsou would accompany Amy, Madison and Midoriya to the Murder House and free the trapped souls with Amy constantly protecting Shinsou and vice-versa. And after her mission with Midoriya, Shinsou decided to do something nice for her. Remembering Amy express her regrets for not being able to perform at the Culture Festival, he gets them a spot during a festival in New Orleans where he and Amy performed and sang ‘True Colors’ together and Amy happily thanked him afterwards and called him her ‘very best friend’.

While it might not always be healthy, Shinsou almost always forgives Amy for anything she does no matter how amoral or messed up it may be, and that includes murder, manipulation and deception or even going on a rampage throughout his school.

Although Shinsou is not entirely lenient on Amy, as he can tell her when he thinks she is wrong about something and tries to balance out her craziness by acting as the logical and rational one. Despite this however, because Shinsou is terrified of her temper and her power, he often finds himself buckling under pressure and instead opts to hold his tongue if it means not upsetting Amy. Even apologizing for little reasons when he senses that Amy is in a bad mood or whenever she raises her voice. And because Amy sometimes doesn’t always realize just how overbearing she’s being, she was oblivious to the power imbalance between the two of them, with Amy having most of the power and Shinsou being the one bending over backwards for her.

Eventually Shinsou does secretly admit to himself and later to Kaminari that it can be really emotionally taxing on him to take care of Amy whenever she’s upset because he’s terrified of her either lashing out, having another meltdown, hurting someone or hurting herself. That being said, Shinsou has also had panic attacks whenever he thinks about Amy’s rage and freezes up in fear whenever she gets angry because of her capability for destruction. He pretends that it doesn’t bother him, but because of his friendship with her and unwillingness to admit that his friend scares him, he bottles it up and continues to make excuses for her.

Amy eventually realizes this in the second year when Ashlen enters the picture and she sees what kind of emotional struggles he goes through whenever she got upset and saw how it affected Ashlen too. Feeling even more guilty, Amy apologizes to both of them, and plans to make amends to Shinsou by being a better friend to him, and this shows when Shinsou has his own emotional meltdowns (albeit much more downplayed compared to Amy’s) and Amy gladly looks after him and helps him feel better.

Overall, their friendship is very strong, albeit with some slight co-dependence on their parts as Shinsou and Amy both suffer their own breakdowns at the mere thought of losing each other or no longer being friends, which is why he got pissed at her for lying that she didn’t want to be friends and she broke down immediately even if it was just a lie.

Later on, their relationship remains as loving and close, especially when they add Ashlen into their friend-group as the two take it upon themselves to be their best selves for her, although they’re still not above acting like trouble-makers even with Ashlen around and playfully joking around with her. Nonetheless, they’re a dynamic duo who love each other and will do anything for the other.

And though I know, since you've awakened her again She depends on you, she depends on you She'll go alone and never speak of you again We depend on you, I’ll depend on you...

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lordmartiya · 5 years

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Fox Rain chapter 5

@lilanette-week

@supermenteuse

@emblian

@starcrossed-stardust

@theitalianscribe

@thekitsune

@volpinarena

Some school life. Just simple school life. And if you believe that the Akuma class can have “just simple school life”, let me tell you the French government is planning to sell the Eiffel Tower for scraps and I’m their agent. Oh, and there’s totally no reference on just why Lila recognized that Fox Miraculous Holder on the book. I swear! On the other hand, parts of this and some of the next chapters are based on quicksilversquared’s “A Different Kind of Inspiration”. P.S.: Let me thank the Lila Protection Squad Discord for some help-turns out the cultural differences between the various parts of Italy are greater than I thought.

Chapter 05: Slice of Life

It was a calm Saturday, and Lila, not having bonded much with her classmates yet, had thought to take the chance to try that place suggested by her friend-and it had indeed satisfied her mother, for the time being. Still, Maria, not having a friend proud of certain traditions, was puzzled by the name, and asked about it.

“This place, this gym, started out as a Savate club-and our art may have been born in the south but was later forged in the street fights of Paris during the Belle Epoque, fights that involved gangs called Apache(1).” the professeur, Remy Eclair, explained. “Some of my colleagues don’t like bringing it up, but I feel we should remember the errors of the past so we won’t repeat them. That being part of why we slowly expanded to offer a few other styles and our students are trained to compete in MMA tournaments: the other instructors and I aspire to teach young men and women how to avoid our mistakes.”

“I see.” Maria replied. “But why the Omega?”

“I like the letter, why?”

Both of Lila’s parents pinched their noses at the reveal. Lila, on the other hand, was savoring the situation: she needed proper venting, and perfecting her boxing skills(2) and learning something new at this Omega Apacheria was just the thing.

“Hey! Aren’t you my cousin’s new classmate?”

Lila turned, and saw Bridgette Dupain in a full Savate outfit-and someone expected to enter and possibly win the World Games(3) in Muay Thai. She didn’t want her interest in MMA to become public, and not just because of the (small) chance it’d get her exposed at Vorpika, but keeping Bridgette from getting it out will be worth the chance of training with Anansi.

_______________________________

“And now you know.” Marinette said to her Kwami, who had just heard why Marinette had known how to calm Lila-and a few other things. “I-I’ll understand if you’ll want a better Ladybug, I mean-”

Marinette was interrupted by Tikki hugging her head, calming her down.

“What you told me is why you’re an amazing Ladybug.” the Kwami replied.

“But-”

“My past holder Jehanne and her family had to face hostility for their loyalty to the Crown, she even had her house burned, and yet she was always calm and sweet, and proud of having never killed once-just like you, in your way. Just try and not be too generous like her…”

“I suppos-wait, Jehanne, too generous… YOU MEAN JEANNE D’ARC?!”

“No, Jeanne Romée, from Domremy…”

It would take a while, and Marinette’s parents asking why she had shouted about France’s national hero, before Tikki realized that her most self-sacrificial user was known with a different name now(4). And so much pressure on Marinette.

_______________________________

“Auroch, do you have a moment?” Remy Eclair asked to the gym’s boxing instructor. As “quirky” (to say the least) and greedy as he was, the American boxer he had nicknamed after the ancestor of cows was a great asset to the gym, having helped his students perfecting their use of fists and quickly dealing with any problem or information need-just like what he needed to ask him right now. “I need you to find out a few things about our newest student.”

“Let me see.” the boxer said as he took Lila’s file. “Dammit, name too long to be unmockable and too short to be mocked properly, a bit unlucky for being Ladybug’s friend. So, what do ya need to know?”

“Her mother was quite insistent about us teaching restraint.”

“Say no more. And no, being a diplomat’s daughter won’t stop me.”

_______________________________

“So what?” Vorpika said to Ladybug that night when they and Chat Noir met for patrol and the spotted heroine explained what she had found out from her Kwami.

“But-it’s Jeanne d’Arc! La Pucelle!” Chat Noir protested.

“Nǚwáng Húlí. Or if you prefer, Donna Volpe. She saved ALL OF ITALY in one fell swoop, and shortened World War II-because I doubt the Germans would have collapsed in 1944 if those seventeen divisions had been available. And do you see me complain about the pressure? No!”

“You and I have a much different sense of worth.” Ladybug said. “How am I supposed to be worth of her?!”

“As my grandmother used to say, you aren’t, just do your best and surpass her. And if you fail… Well, you still did better than you would have done otherwise. You’re my pard, and I won’t let you make me look bad.”

Ladybug blinked for a moment, and just hugged her ally, much to Vorpika and Chat Noir’s confusion. It would take a while before she realized what she had called Ladybug.

_______________________________

“You can ask, if you want.” Ladybug said to her partner after the patrol ended and Vorpika had left.

“Why did you hug her?” Chat asked, as expected.

“She called me a pard-and in Italy they use that word only for the true friends, at least if you read the right comics(5).”

Chat looked at his partner as if she had suddenly grown another head, so ridiculous the idea was, before reminding her of one thing: “My Lady, she’s planning to beat you to a pulp as soon as we’ve dealt with Papillon.”

“Come on, if Chloe can be nice to some people then Lila can become friendlier.” Ladybug replied. “I know she can.”

_______________________________

“Welcome! Glad to see you here!”

Lila blinked at the strangeness of the situation. She had already realized that Chloe Bourgeois wasn’t the friendliest person, and yet that Monday she had arrived at school early and was greeting all her classmates-with the most strained smile she had ever seen when it came to Marinette. And now she had been greeting her with a sickeningly sweet tone in her voice-the kind that made her itch to punch the talker in the face.

“Come, I’ll bring you to the infirmary.” she said instead, half sarcastically and half actually worried the blonde had some mind-altering condition.

“Miss Bustier insists we all take turns in greeting our classmates, now move your ass and get in.” Chloe replied with a less abnormal tone.

That explained it-and she didn’t like it. She could be wrong, but in Lila’s book such a trick hinted at the teacher being desperate about some bullying-and not having any idea this kind of things didn’t work. It was worth investigating it-maybe she had been underestimating Marinette. Who knew, maybe she’d become a friend, or a pard, and-

“PORCA MATRIGNA!”

And she finally realized what she had called Ladybug. But why?! She couldn’t be growing fond of her! Not after what she had done! Or could she? She needed to take out Papillon soon, or she may forget she’s supposed to squash the bug!

_______________________________

“What was that?” Alya asked Marinette.

“I think it was the Roman equivalent of parbleu.” was the answer of the one who understood Italian. It had to be that, otherwise she couldn’t explain why Lila had insulted the stepmother she didn’t have. “No idea why, though.” and that was actually a lie-by Lila’s deer-on-headlights look, Marinette strongly suspected she had just realized she had referred to Ladybug as a pard. Something to give her back her good mood, after what she had just discovered the previous day.

“A bit strong for that… And I don’t think she has a creative block too.”

“Alya!”

“You think there’s a spot for her too?”

“Wait, you mean today? It was supposed to be just between us…”

“And you said you think she needs a good friend-and maybe she can help you with that block.”

“You’re right, but-”

“Hey, Lila! Are you busy today?”

Alya being Alya, less than a minute later Lila had promised to go with her at Marinette’s house. And having started to understand the Italian girl, the future host just hoped it wouldn’t go too bad…

_______________________________

“Marinette, dear, is this to get around the pet ban?” Tomas Dupain asked his daughter after taking a single look at Lila-much to said daughter’s embarrassment. And fear. Why, of all the embarrassing things he knew about her, he had to share that?

“What do you mean?” Lila asked, suspicious about the situation.

“Oh, nothing much-Marinette wanted a pet fox as a child, but we couldn’t let her due the bakery.” Sabine Cheng added.

And while Alya-the traitor-snickered at the news, Lila slowly turned to Marinette, surprise having replaced suspicion on her face-and then she apparently realized something, by the look she shot her before lowering her head.

“I can’t believe you…” she whispered, anger in her words. “All of this… I trusted you… And you only wanted my body! You pervert!”

Neither Alya nor Marinette said anything, the former was too busy laughing openly at what was happening and the latter was looking at the hammy fox with the same face she had when she had found out Kim was crushing on Chloe. And she wasn’t finished.

“Still… I love you so much!” Lila said, moving in the most melodramatic way she could and offering her hair to Marinette. “Here! My foxlike hair! It’s yours!”

Marinette just used it to drag Lila to her room, making sure Lila was following so she risk harming her or ruin that hair (if Juleka and their old classmate Mina were any hint, people with hair that long tended to be quite proud of it), quickly followed by Alya as soon as she realized they had left while she had been laughing.

_______________________________

“You’re just too easy to tease.” Lila said after they had reached Marinette’s room and got her hair back. Then she realized another thing. “And as unbelievable as it sounds, you aren’t the first one with the same reason to be attracted to my foxy charm. And no-” she continued as Alya looked about to ask who she was talking about “I’m not telling who. It’s her secret, and it came out in a rather embarrassing situation.”

While she didn’t show it, Marinette was relieved by Lila’s willingness to keep Ladybug’s secrets. Then, of course, she asked something she had hoped she wouldn’t ask: “Now, why did you girls wanted me here, exactly?”

“We’re friends, right?” and of course Alya did exactly the wrong thing: deny any ulterior motives.

“Leaving aside we’re not that close yet, I’m the daughter of a diplomat, I’ve experienced far too many liars much better than you will ever be.”

“She thought you could help with my creative block.” Marinette admitted before Alya could make things worse.

“Yeah, my girl just got caught a case of thinking she can’t do it, comparing herself to the big names like Gabriel Agreste, or Valentino.” Alya continued, repeating what Marinette had improvised to hide she felt not up to task of being Jeanne d’Arc’s successor.

Lila just looked at them with a strange smile, then she asked Marinette: “Can I use your PC for a moment? I need to show you a few things.”

“Sure.”

Lila went and connected to the Ladyblog’s wiki, and showed some of the data Alya and others had found on past Holders of the Ladybug Miraculous: “Here she is: La Mariquita, had a decisive role in the Mexican War of Independence, some even attribute to her the utter failure to even leave port of Barradas’ expedition and their recognition of Mexican independence in the same year(6). Now, this stained glass window in Notre Dame shows Jeanne d’Arc, that Jeanne d’Arc, facing Jacques “Darkblade” d’Argencourt in her 1429 attack on the city-that may have well be aimed specifically to destroy his supposedly demonic sword(7). Oh, and this one I actually saw a couple times when I lived in Tokyo, Ladybug’s immediate predecessor Benten-chan(8), who gave her life to annihilate a terrorist organization, finishing the job started by her predecessor Bo Rùa. Who, if I read among certain lines right, also played a part in France doing the smart thing with the Việt Minh in 1946(9). Ladybug knows of these ladies, and sometimes she feels overwhelmed… But still soldiers on, doing her best to be as good as them if not better. And considering that, from what I’ve seen, the only reason you aren’t Ladybug was that whoever held on the Ladybug Miraculous after Benten-chan’s death met Ladybug before you… Agreste, Valentino, and Coco Chanel together won’t cause you problems for much longer.”

Marinette was of two minds. On one hand, she appreciated Lila’s attempt at helping her, even with the lie-she hadn’t known of La Mariquita and Bo Rùa until Lila had mentioned them, and had only suspected that one of Tokyo’s past superheroes had been her predecessor. On the other hand… How was she supposed to compare to them?!

“Come on, I know Coco Chanel was revolutionary, but you are a genius too.” Lila commented, guessing the wrong reason for Marinette’s barely repressed panic. Then she finally gave a less disastrous suggestion: “Have you tried to look around the city for inspiration?”

Marinette just pointed at the bulletin board near her desk and the dozens of sketches of people and monuments on them.

“Then, what about the Station of Lyon(10)? To paraphrase a certain saying, the best part of Paris is the train from and to Rome(11), to better appreciate the best places in the world, and just a glimpse may help.”

It took a moment for Marinette and Alya to realize Lila was actually serious about that.

“I should actually go there to feel inspired by Rome…” Marinette replied.

“At this point I could suggest a brief break, but if you intend to go pro you can’t have that, or the fabric store.”

“You’re a genius!” Alya added. “Mari, she’s right, maybe the fabric will talk to you.”

“I think you’ve been watching too much Project Runway, Alya.” Marinette replied after snorting and rolling her eyes.

“Well, have you?”

“No, I haven’t.”

“Then, field trip!”

And so, the aspiring journalist dragged the other two girls to Marinette’s favorite fabric store.

_______________________________

As she visited the fabric store with her tentative friends, Lila thought at the strange situation, also wondering at just why they hadn’t asked her help. She could understand in the diplomatic world, what with the absurd mix of lies and truths international relationship were based on, but among common people she felt it was stupid.

Still, in a way they were bonding, even if she felt Marinette too had some hidden reason for it-the girl struck her as somewhat paranoid, and allowing a recent acquaintance in her room was just too strange.

Not that she wasn’t manipulating her herself-she hadn’t suggested the fabric store just because her composer uncle used to go at the music instrument shop for inspiration, but also because she had seen a certain announcement on the web, and she was waiting for the store to put it on their announcement board. And if her intuition was right, it was just the challenge the pigtailed genius needed. And maybe even unnecessary, by what she was hearing.

“It does, from what I can tell, but I get squicked out by the whole ‘it’s actually skin’ thing, I think.” Marinette was saying to Alya, answering a question if leather draped well. “If I could get past that, I could probably come up with some ideas for jackets and whatnot. Jagged Stone has some amazing leather jackets that I'd love to kind of replicate, but… Skin. It gives me creative block.”

“Then I know just what you need.” Lila said, knowing it would also work with her original plan. Then she spotted an employee stapling the awaited announcement at the bulletin board, and as she pointed to it she added: “In fact, it’s actually two things you need-and one has just come out there.”

“Wait, what-Mr. Agreste is holding a design contest! Oh, no, this is the worst possible timing! I don't have any ideas!”

“Read it in full.”

“’Outfits must be designed using nontypical fabrics. No cotton or wool knits/weaves, silk, et cetera. Fastenings such as buttons and zippers are allowed. Contact Bessie Leroy with questions.’” she read off the flier, before adding she was a lower designer at Gabriel. Then she looked at Lila and asked: “Did you knew?”

“Checked their page this morning to have something to speak with you and Adrien, and discovered an early announcement. At a guess, he wants to know what kinds of materials are out there and the best way of doing that is a contest, or maybe he’s tired of contest dominated by silk dresses. This little trick should push designers out of their comfort zone.”

“Yes, but this will make it harder to be inspire-what’s that smile? It’s-”

“Predatory? Scary? I probably showed it off to Ladybug when I was Volpina-because it comes out only when a plan comes together and I came quite close to win. But I digress… Now, tell me: did you know there’s a material almost identical to leather but made out of cork?”

Five minutes later it was Marinette to drag the other two back to her home, already having the basis for a design. The fact that, as long as one followed the very simple and clearly outlined procedures, Agreste would pay for the materials in order to let potential talents with little money enter his contests and (hopefully) his company, something Marinette believed had been his missing wife’s idea and he continued because it worked and Lila believed was simply the result of him being a good and astute businessman, meant the budding designer wouldn’t have troubles with her design. The only thing that hadn’t been going well in Lila’s opinion was the red-and-black combo that would homage Ladybug, but in Paris that was the same as wearing orange in honor of Donna Volpe and the actual Volpina back in Rome, and she could take it. Then Marinette surprised her. Surprised her, and triggered her mistrust.

_______________________________

“I said I want to fit this to you, so you can have it once I’m done with the contest.” Marinette repeated. She was a bit surprised herself by what she had decided, but she just wanted to do it.

“Why?” Lila asked, suddenly cold. “This is the kind of things one does for their friends, and unless I’ve missed something we’re still at the “friendly acquaintances” stage. Or you want to become friends really, really fast?”

In hindsight, Marinette realized she should have seen this coming, considering what she had realized about Lila. But it wasn’t a problem, all it took was to remember where she had hidden her pre-Ladybug diaries this time (she had thought the traps were enough, but after Chloe sent Sabrina to steal her then-current diary she had decided to increase the precautions) and show one to Lila.

“Here. Read a page, any page.” Marinette said after picking it.

“Did I hear something that could have been a lock or a deactivated bear trap?”

“Sabrina stole her diary once.” Alya explained.

“Oook…”

Lila took the diary and opened it, slowly reading one of the page-and then widening her eyes and reading it again, and three times, and then flickering through the pages. It would have been comical if she hadn’t know what caused that reaction.

“But-oh-Madonna santa, ched’è ch’a puttana incora campa?!”

“I wonder that myself.” Marinette replied as she took back the diary. “And please, don’t correct the situation.”

“But-”

“Don’t. She’s not worth the trouble. But… Do you understand now?”

Lila just nodded.

_______________________________

“Did you have to shout that loud?” Remy asked his fellow instructor as he, Nora “Anansi” Cesaire and Bridgette came to him.

“No, but it’s funnier. And it’s about your research.” Auroch replied. “The girl’s got boxing in the blood, her father, Andrea-he he-Rossi-”

“It’s a perfectly manly name in Italy(12).” Bridgette pointed out.

“Whatever. Anyway, her father Andrea Rossi was a boxer, and was expected to get the Olympic gold and then gun for the Heavyweight championship but he injured his hand right before the selection, and by the time he healed he had to look for a steadier job, if you get what I mean.”

“Uh-hu.” Nora replied before noticing something on the screen. “Wait, the date of his retirement-”

“Congrats, you noticed one of the reasons for the parents’ protectiveness. And you won’t ever hint to anyone about it. Anyway, as I was saying the man taught his daughter how to fight, enough she won a few amateur matches and even got in a kickboxing one ‘bout five weeks ago… An’ now you’ll see why the lady was so insistent on restraint.”

Auroch opened a YouTube video, showing Lila in a kickboxing getup facing a blonde girl and giving her a rather unsettling glare, while the blonde smirked. Said smirk disappeared once Lila hit her with a one-two on the nose, followed by two other crosses as the nose started bleeding and continuing until the referee intervened.

“That was a bit harsher than I’d expect from two teens.” Remy commented.

“You say that-last guy I’ve seen hitting with such determination was Buster Douglas in Tokyo, and I see no dead mom for the girl(13). They had a score, and Rossi settled it-and the still alive mom doesn’t want a repeat. Something I can understand, wouldn’t have got in so much trouble had my parents done the same.”

“Well, I suppose we can help the girl too, can’t we?” Remy said. “We’ll have to count on you girls-Bridgette, you’re about the same age, and you, Anansi… Well, the girl seems to look up to you.”

“No problem, boss!” Nora answered while Bridgette struck her chest in the Savate salute.

_______________________________

“It’s good, isn’t it?” Andrea Rossi asked his daughter as they dined. “After Selah, your mother and I were starting to fear you wouldn’t trust new people.”

“I’m not letting that fatah(14) win.” Lila coldly replied, the contempt for the other girl evident in the use of Arabic in place of the usual Romanesco. “But where’s mother?”

“At the embassy.” Andrea replied with a sigh. “She called in earlier and said she’s got an important translation to complete.”

“I see.”

After dinner, Lila went back to her room, thinking about the day’s discoveries, when Trixx had to ask her about one thing:

“Isn’t your mother too important for translation work?” the Kwami asked.

“Welcome to the diplomatic world, where you lie even to your family and they won’t call you out.” Lila replied with fake mirth. “I think she got involved with something from the intelligence… Or it may just be a secret negotiation, or who knows. Or cares. All I know is that she has disappeared again. And right as I’d need her advice. Again.”

“It’s about the Bourgeois girl, isn’t it?”

“Who else? I mean, you’ve seen what she did. And don’t you try and convince me you didn’t read that diary…”

“You should support Marinette when she needs it. Dealing with the bullies should be the teachers’ job, and doing it in their place could get you in trouble.”

“So, just watch and do the bare minimum?”

“Unless she crosses the line. I mean, it’s not like she’s a danger to you, right?”

_______________________________

Chloe Bourgeois alternated looking Sabrina and the phone with the article her friend had just pointed her to.

“Well well well… Didn’t think the new girl had something like that hiding in her past…” Chloe said once she was past the shock.

“It’s not exactly hidden, I mean, there’s articles, and-” Sabrina pointed out before getting cut off.

“It’s a figure of speech. But this explains a lot. You said there’s more?” as Sabrina nodded, Chloe just grinned, knowing that one recent problem was about to be solved.

Notes

(1)”Apache” was the name given to a particularly ferocious (from which the name, comparing them to the perception people used to have of the actual Apache) criminal underworld subculture active in Paris in the early 20th century, subculture that survived the police’ attempts at suppressing it because the gangs would stop fighting the moment they spotted the police and in total they outnumbered them about five to one. Due the powerlessness of the police, the Parisians fought it themselves until, in 1914, Joseph Gallieni, military governor of Paris, managed to convince them to join the army in defending Paris from the invading Germans… At which point the Apache found themselves in the middle of World War I, with obvious results.

(2)Lila actually shows some knowledge of boxing defensive techniques in the series, mainly her surprising nimbleness (boxing footwork) and the famous scene of the “killer napkin” (a reflexive parrying).

(3)A multi-sport event meant for sports not included in the Olympic Games, held every four year, one after the latest Summer Olympics, with the athletes being the best in their respective disciplines. Combat sports at the World Games include Ju Jitsu, Sumo, Muay Thai (as stated), and Karate, though the latter could be missing from the 2021 due being disputed in the Tokyo Olympics.

(4)According to the trials transcripts, Jeanne (whose name at the time was indeed spelled “Jehanne”) herself stated that, at Domrémy, it was use to take the maternal surname, if one had a surname at all-hence Tikki referring to her with her mother’s last name and not with her father’s.

(5)Specifically, Tex (Tex Willer for English-speaking audiences), where the word is used by the characters to refer to their friends, and, most significantly, the four main characters, some of the truest friends in comic books, do the same and are referred by fans as “The Pards”. The readers would recognize said word, and considering Tex is Italy’s most popular comic, even among adults…

(6)In real life, Barradas’ “Spearhad Division” actually landed in 1829 and was promptly defeated, and Spain would not recognize Mexican independence until 1836. But as Astruc revealed a past Ladybug Miraculous Holder fought in said war…

(7)Darkblade’s nickname was in English even in the original French, and we know Jeanne d’Arc, who attacked Paris in 1429, was a Ladybug Miraculous Holder, so…

(8)Complete OC.

(9)Simply based on the fact a past Ladybug Miraculous Holder is confirmed as Vietnamite.

(10)Contrary to the name, this is one of Paris’ train stations, whose full name, Paris-Gare-de-Lyon (Paris Train Station of Lyon), comes from the fact most long distance trains departing from there pass from Lyon.

(11)Specifically, the Roman saying is “There’s one good thing about Milan: the train for Rome”. Paris and Rome, however, have an exclusive twinship because, supposedly, “Only Paris is worth of Rome; only Rome is worth of Paris”, so…

(12)Andrea, deriving from the Greek “Andros” like its English counterpart Andrew and the French one Andrè, means “manly”. As far I’m concerned, it’s more embarrassing for a girl to have that name.

(13)In 1990, James “Buster” Douglas was a “journeyman” Heavyweight boxer approaching his retirement when he was given a shot at facing then-undefeated Heavyweight Champion Mike Tyson. Given their, well, everything, everyone knew this would be another half-round glorified sparring session for Tyson while his manager got around organizing the big match with Evander Holyfield, thus no US arena would host the fight, leading to it being fought at the Tokyo Dome, the only Las Vegas casino that accepted bets gave Douglas 42-1 odds, and Tyson didn’t adequately prepare himself… Except Douglas’ mother died 23 days before the fight, and for her he fought like he had never done, or would. After the ten most hellish rounds of his career, Tyson lost by knock-out.

#lilanette #miraculous ladybug #miraculousladybug #lila rossi #lilarossi

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