#i mean i still usually don’t park in the employee section but i’m still a bit away from the entrance

[professionaljester]

parks up front bc i leave at 7 and the mall security won’t know that i took a “shopper” spot >:))

#abc shut it #i mean i still usually don’t park in the employee section but i’m still a bit away from the entrance

[bokutosworld]

seasons change, our love remains the same | miya o. 

pairing: timeskip osamu x f!reader  word count, genre: 1.8k words, established relationship, fluff.  warning: none summary: a story of how osamu’s love for you began and how it will never end. a/n: this is a piece for the haikyuu-cafe x hqhangout collab! 

It was springtime when words of love flowed out of him. 

“What are you looking at?” 

Osamu peers over your shoulder to get a glimpse of the yearbook in your hand. His eyes land on a younger version of himself who was barely smiling at the camera. He grimaces internally, shaking his head at the memory of the day when the picture was taken.

Sitting down on the floor, he slings his arms around you and brings you closer. “Where did you get this?” 

“Unlike you, I actually kept our yearbook. It’s a nice memento of the past,” you laugh, turning the page and going further down the memory lane. You reach a section containing different pictures—montages of photographs from the sports day, the cultural festival, and, the one that caught your eye, the graduation ceremony. 

“Hey, do you remember this?” Osamu follows where you were pointing at. There, at the middle, was a blurred image of some Class-1 students, his and your class, under a cherry blossom tree. Though the colors were muted, he could vividly remember that moment when the pink petals were dancing around in the air, everyone dreamily looking up at the bloom, but all he could focus on was you standing by his side as the teacher captured the photograph. 

He remembers how his heart was beating so crazily at that instant. And what followed then was the moment that he’d been preparing for. 

“Of course, I do. What do you take me for?” His arms encircle around your waist, he kisses the top of your head. “That’s when I confessed to you.” 

You chuckle, “Wrong. You haven’t confessed to me here yet.” 

“Oh, right,” he rests his chin on your shoulder, looking straight in your eyes. He narrates the past to you, “After we took that picture, I asked if you could come with me at the back of the gym.” 

You hum and he continues, “You awkwardly followed behind as we walked together. Then when we arrived, I brought out a single carnation flower. You stared at it with wide eyes for minutes and I was so scared that I would get rejected right there and then.” 

“Well, that’s because you weren’t saying anything! How was I supposed to know you were confessing when you were just standing there with a flower?” 

“I’m pretty sure I said I love you,” he teases. “You just didn’t hear it.” 

You put down the book on the table and turn to the side so you could face him. “You’re lucky I’ve been in love with you since middle school.” 

He chuckles, bringing one hand to cup your cheek and the other to brush away some hair on your face. “I really am lucky.” And before you knew it, soft lips touch yours and it makes you feel warm and tingly. “Being with you is like a dream that I don’t ever want to wake up from.” 

Summer when you found yourself running to him for comfort. 

The front door to Onigiri Miya chimes, alerting Osamu of a new customer. He looks up momentarily from his task of rolling sushi to greet the person who’s come in, only to be surprised to see it was you. 

“Hi.” You smile weakly and take the usual spot at the counter, right at the front where you could watch him cook.

“What are you doing here? I thought I’d see you at the apartment.” 

“I’m tired. And it was so hot, I couldn’t take another minute of commute,” you groan as you drop your head on the table. “The trains were jam-packed and I didn’t want to be sandwiched between people and feel their sweat on skin.” You imagine the scenario if you didn’t walk your way towards his shop tonight, and the thought had you shuddering in your seat. 

“Anyway, I went here and thought we could go home together.” You peek at him from behind your arms. “Also I just really, really wanted to see you already.” 

Osamu instantly softens. At the moment, he wanted nothing more than to close shop, take you home, and lie on the bed with you in his arms. All the time in the relationship, he felt like he’s been the one who’s constantly relying on you. But right now, you were running to him and he wanted to be there to catch you. 

“There’s only few customers left but I think can finish this in twenty minutes.” He slides over a glass of iced tea to you. “Can you wait for me?” 

You nod and he leans to give you a quick kiss before returning to his work. You watch in awe as he skillfully moves around his area, hands deftly making the customers’ orders. And not before long, he’s standing beside you, already changed out of his work uniform to his usual beige polo shirt (the one you gifted him and his obvious favorite). He holds out a paper bag with his shop’s logo. You take it with a curious look. 

“It’s not gonna bite you,” he jokes and it makes you roll eyes. “I figured you haven’t eaten dinner yet so I made yaki-onigiri. You can eat it at home.” You’re silent as he takes your hands and guides the two of you out of the store, waving to his employees and reminding them to close. 

“You remembered my favorite food.” 

He squeezes your hand and brings it to his lips, “Of course, I remember everything about you.” It’s his beautiful smile that makes you weak at the knees and instantly chases your exhaustion away. 

In autumn, he made a promise. 

“Hold my hand so we don’t get separated.” Osamu insists after having lost you for the fifth time in a row. The two of you were in Kyoto for a long overdue out-of-town vacation. After some time, you were both fortunate to finally free up your busy schedule and Osamu had planned a five days and four nights trip to the region. 

“I’m not a kid, Osamu,” you whine but still lace your fingers with his and move deeper into the park. Osamu lets you take the lead as you stroll along the path in Arashiyama Bamboo Forest, the one place you’ve always wanted to visit. 

The moment you stood at the entrance of the grove, you were struck at the beautiful, soaring green stalks that seemed to welcome you to another world. Osamu could feel the excitement radiating from you and whenever you smiled, whenever you turned to him to gush about the scenery, he finds himself falling in love with you all over again. He’s smiling as he watches you take photo after photo, unaware that he’s also taken his phone out to capture a picture of you. 

As you’re standing in the midst of the crowd, looking like you’re having the best time and so beautiful with the way the faint light from above falls on you like a spotlight, Osamu has a fleeting wish that he could be the one to make you happy for the rest of your life. 

You suddenly stop admiring the view in favor of searching for your boyfriend who seemed to have stopped moving for minutes. The two of you stare at each other, neither one making the move to walk closer. Osamu tilts his head to one side as he mouths at you, “Hi.”

Confused, you mimic him. “Hey.” 

It takes him five big steps to close the distance. He grabs your face, thumbs grazing at your cheeks as he stares affectionately. Time slows down but your heart races when he says, “Let’s get married.” 

You thought you heard wrong. But that was until he brought out a box that’s been hiding at his coat pocket. You gasp audibly, tears pooling in your eyes, as he takes the ring out and holds it in front of you. 

“I love you more than life itself. I want to stay by your side and keep you happy for as long as you’ll let me.”

You’re crying as you say yes and his vision is also blurry when he slips the jewelry on your finger, a symbol of his commitment and love for you. 

And in winter, the two of you were home. 

It’s well past morning. The clock reads 9:58 am but somehow you could not find it in you to get up from the bed. You move your body but it proved futile when you felt a pair of arms tightening around you, refusing to let you go. 

You feel hot breaths fanning your neck, craning to look back at the person sleeping behind you. Reaching a hand to stroke his hair, you feel Osamu only nuzzle closer and seeking warmth from your body. 

“Good morning,” he hums. 

You turn around, wrapping your arms around his waist and pressing a kiss on his lips. “It’s always a good morning waking up next to you.” 

He chuckles, the low voice sending goosebumps on your skin and causing the blood to rush on your face. He takes you by surprise by suddenly flipping you over, trapping you in a bear hug while you laid above him. 

“Wait, Osamu, let go!” Your voice muffled on his chest. 

“I don’t want to.” He loses himself in your sweet scent and he feels slowly being lulled back to sleep. “It’s cold. Let’s stay here longer.” 

Your struggle did not last for long, eventually giving in to your husband’s grip and you lay peacefully, hearing the calm beating of his heart. A glance to the windows and you can see the trees covered in thick white, making you excited as you realized the snow has made its fall overnight. 

You look up at him, “We should get breakfast.” 

“You mean brunch.” 

Giggling, you begin to sit up which only makes Osamu groan and reach out for you. “Come on, I’ll make your favorite hot chocolate and we can look outside at the snow.” 

At the mention of hot chocolate, he slightly peeks his head from the blankets, catching you before you exit the door. “With marshmallows?” 

“Of course.” You tease, knowing how much he loved his hot drink with those soft, pillowy white confections. 

This makes him smile and finally, he gets out of the bed and makes his way to you. He slips hands into yours before walking with you out of the room. 

Mornings with Osamu were the best. And as much as you looked forward to spending every day with him, he is also anticipating what’s in store for the rest of his years with you. 

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu imagines #osamu x reader #osamu imagines #haikyuucafe #haikyuucreations #osamu fluff #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu fics #osamu x y/n #osamu x you #haikyuu x you #miya osamu x reader #hq osamu #miya osamu #haikyuu!!

[randomposterofstuff]

Soldiers by Choice - Chapter VI

Author's Note: So, real life has been stressing me out immensely. Lol. And I really wanted to post this chapter as soon as I could, so please forgive me for any mistakes and any other problems. Haha. In any case, I hope that you all like it!

Also available on Archive of Our Own. Check my tumblr page to click on the ‘Archive of Our Own’ tab!

Tumblr Chapters List can be found here.

CHAPTER 6: Reasons and Apologies

Summary: Mikasa and Levi encounter troublesome Military Police officers while doing a supply run. Meanwhile, at the Cadet Corps headquarters, Eren Yeager and Jean Kirstein have another confrontation.

Year 847 (5 months later)

---

“Tch. They’re out of bleach.”

Levi glares at the empty row of shelves where jars of commercial bleach usually would be. A few feet away to his left, Mikasa speaks with the shop owner.

“Mr. Gale, I don’t understand. Section Commander Hange told us that you usually have stocks of everything during this time of the month.”

The Titan-scientist and Moblit were on the supply pick-up rotation for the current month. But since they were away on another observation expedition with the Research division, the task had fallen to the two Ackermans.

Mr. Gale, an aging man in his early 50s, clasps his hands apologetically. “I’m sorry, Captain. But due to some issues with our supplier, we won’t have stocks until next month.”

The dark-haired woman sighs at the news. “I see. We will just have to make do with an alternative and the other supplies.”

After a few more words and apologetic gestures from the shop owner, she approaches her co-captain, who is still glowering at the vacant racks.

“They won’t restock until next month.”

His frown deepens. “How the hell are we supposed to properly clean without bleach?”

Mikasa cracks a small smile at his displeasure over the absence of the cleaning agent. In the back of her mind, she muses that even after three years of working together, she still finds his pseudo-obsession with cleanliness to be comical to the point of disbelief.

“We can make our own cleaning formula.” She says. “The store has the necessary ingredients, and the budget is enough to cover them.”

The tautness in his jaw relents at this. “You know how to make bleach?”

She nods. “I do. My mother created her own cleanser. The employees at our estate use it.”

His eyebrows raise in mild surprise. “I didn’t know the Azumabitos also dealt in the cleaning business.” He remarks wryly.

She shifts her eyes from side to side before taking a step closer. "It's a closely guarded family secret." She whispers mock-conspiratorially.

He smirks. “Your secret is safe with me.” He speaks in a similarly hushed tone, and she mirrors his smirk.

---

After perusing the store for the needed ingredients, the two officers help the elderly shop owner place all their purchased supplies in eight wooden crates.

“That’s everything.” Mr. Gale comments as he places the lid on the final crate. “I’ll call my boys to help you load them on your cart.”

“There’s no need for that.” Levi says, already readying himself to lift some of the boxes. “We can handle it.”

The proprietor laughs good-naturedly. "Come now, Captain Levi. I know that you’re ‘Humanity’s Strongest Soldier’ and that Captain Mikasa is the ‘Woman Worth a Hundred Soldiers”, but you can’t rea---”

He cuts himself off when the two Ackermans each lift four boxes with little effort.

Mikasa shifts the crates so that she faces the shop owner properly. "Mr. Gale, you've already received the payment from our budgetary officer, correct?"

The older man merely nods, his mouth still agape in shock at the display of inhuman strength.

“We’ll be on our way, then. Thanks, old man.” Levi states, unfazed by the reaction.

The warm afternoon sun greets them as they exit the shop. The commercial area of Trost is filled with chatter from the mass of patrons. Due to the crowded streets, they had to leave their wagon at a fairly secluded area some ways away from the store.

When they finally arrive at where they parked, the crowd has thinned considerably. The few people there are either entering or exiting the complex. The two are in the process of loading the crates onto the cart when they hear the sound of glass breaking, followed by a frightened yell to their right.

They turn their heads to the source see to see a small saloon. One of its front windows is covered by pull-down drapes, while the other one is unobscured. Through the glass of the second one, the co-captains see a middle-aged man and woman, presumably the owners, anxiously speaking to two Military Police officers.

“Whaddaya mean we have to pay?” An MP with light hair slurs loudly while gripping a long-necked bottle.

The woman, who looks to be in her early 40s, attempts to explain. “Sir, you’ve consumed more than two bottles already.” She says, wringing her hands together nervously. “And our store ---”

“Blah!” The other MP, a man with darker hair, sways as he unslings his rifle from his shoulder. Both the woman and her partner take a step back, visibly terrified. “We serve the kingdom!” He yells. “You lot should be grateful! Besides, your stuff tastes like shit!"

He unsteadily aims his rifle at a row of bottles behind the counter while his companion laughs. “You’re right, Ricky!” He shouts, smashing the bottle he was holding against the floor.

The one called Ricky guffaws. "Damn right, I'm right, George!" Slightly swaying, he disengages the safety lock. “I’ve been wanting to try this beauty out! They say this thing can shoot 15 bullets in a row after just one click!” Just as he is about to place his finger on the trigger, he is suddenly struck across the head. The impact of the attack causes him to drop his weapon.

“Ricky!” George makes to unsling his own rifle but barely has time to react before a heavy boot hits him in the stomach. He faintly registers his gun being snatched from him before he is thrown across the room and roughly crashes onto a table and some chairs. One second later, Ricky lands beside him with a loud thud.

They both groan for a moment before raising their heads and seeing the profiles of two other soldiers in the area where they had been standing before. “Hey!” George yells while unsteadily getting up. “What gives?!” He demands, face flushed with both embarrassment and alcohol. “Who are you anyway?!” He trains his glazed-over beady eyes at their assailants.

Levi narrows his eyes, not the least bit intimidated. “You were harassing innocent civilians.” He crosses his arms, leveling him with a look of disdain. "Taxpayer money is wasted on pigs like you.”

“They’re from the Survey Corps!” Ricky exclaims, pointing to the Wings of Freedom on the fronts of their jackets. “You two have got some nerve!” He glares, eyes glassy with inebriation. “Accusing us of wasting taxpayer money when you ---”

Mikasa quietly raises his rifle at him, causing him to cut himself short. Both MPs freeze at the movement.

“P—put that down and g—give it back!” Ricky demands, voice shaking.

Mikasa shifts her gaze from the anxious Military Police officers and to the firearm in her hands. She examines its long sleek frame and swipes her thumb over the grip.

“It saddens me to see that my father’s guns were used to frighten defenseless civilians.” She comments out loud, her tone a cross between pensive and disappointed.

George’s brows scrunch up in confusion at her statement. “Huh?!” The two MPs look at her dumbly, trying to comprehend the meaning behinds her words.

Meanwhile, Levi picks up the second rifle from the floor, ignoring the whimpers from the two pigs. He feels the gun's weight in his hands and notes that it is light compared to other models. He then places his thumb on the butt of the rifle and runs it over the engraved encircled cursive 'A' which serves as the insignia of Lord Mikhail Ackerman's gun manufacturing company. He muses that the emblem looks similar to the Azumabito clan symbol on the inside of Mikasa’s wrist.

“If it’s any consolation,” he begins, still looking at the rifle, “I think that your father did a great job with this gun, Mikasa.” He remarks almost idly.

“Thanks, Levi.”

“Levi? Mikasa?” George repeats their names, a hint of recognition in their slurred tone. “Mikasa… Mikhail A—“. Shock settles on his features as they finally connect the dots. His eyes further widen in realization when they shift to Levi. “… Ackerman.”

“You’re Levi and Mikasa Ackerman!” George exclaims, lips trembling. At his exclamation, Ricky’s mouth drops open as sweat starts to form on his brow. The two men nervously shift their eyes between the co-captains – panic and recognition clearing away the drink-induced glazes in their eyes.

“I mean, my lord and lady!” George suddenly bows at the waist. His companion scrambles to do the same. “Our apologies! We didn’t recognize you!”

Levi’s jaw clenches at their sycophantic gesture. “Tch. Do not call us those.” He hisses. “And quit your groveling.”

They straighten themselves instantly at the vitriol in his voice. “My lord?” One of them squeaks.

Mikasa takes a sharp breath. “We’re not at the royal court.” She states, an edge to her voice. “Furthermore, we’re acting in our capacities as officers of the Survey Corps. So, if you’re going to address us, do so accordingly.”

“Yes, my la---, I mean, Captain!” The same MP yelps. “We’re sorry!”

Mikasa narrows her eyes, clearly unimpressed. “You’re clearly not genuine.” She speaks coldly. “And it appears that the likes of you get your bravado from carrying my father’s guns. Perhaps I should tell him to terminate his weapons provision contract with the Military Police.”

“Please don’t!” They both plead simultaneously, alarm in their voices. Clearly frightened of the consequences should they be the cause of the loss of the contract. “This won’t happen again!”

The disdain in her dark grey eyes indicates that she is not convinced. “I don’t believe you.” Mikasa then grips that rifle’s ammunition magazine. “So, I’m going to take these.”

Following her lead, Levi makes to do the same with the rifle in his hands. “I’ll take care of this one.”

Once he’s done, Mikasa holds out a hand, and he gives her the second rifle. She throws the weapons at the feet of the two MPs. “Take those and leave.” She commands, voice near imperious. “And don’t forget to put your payment on the counter.”

The two men do as they are told. They wordlessly take the ammo-less rifles and practically empty their wallets onto the counter before leaving the saloon with their heads bowed.

Once they were out of sight, the two Ackermans turn to the shop owners, who had been silently watching the exchange from the sidelines with bated breath.

“We’re not from the Military Police.” Levi states plainly. “But all the same, we’re sorry for the trouble they caused.”

The middle-aged man shakes himself from his daze. “Oh, please! You have nothing to apologize for!” He says, a nervous but sincere smile on his face. “In fact, my wife and I should thank you, my lord and lady!” His eyes then widen at his slip of tongue. “I’m sorry, I mean---”

Mikasa raises her hands in a calming gesture. “It’s alright.” She assures him with a smile.

The man’s tension eases, relieved at her assurance.

“Thank you so much, Captains.” His wife steps forward, wearing a bright and grateful smile. “May we offer you something to eat and drink?”

“Oh, we ---” Mikasa begins, about to politely decline.

“It’s on the house!” The husband insists. “It’s the least that we could do for you! We insist.”

Mikasa observes their smiling and amiable expressions before turning to Levi. She lifts her brows, and he gives a slight shrug before taking out his pocket watch.

“I suppose we have time before we need to get back to headquarters.” He comments.

The shop owners beam at the response. “Wonderful! I’m Tim Briles, by the way, and this is my wife, Frances." Tim introduces himself and his wife. “Please, have a seat. The menu is by the counter. Order anything you want!”

"Sure." Levi replies, and he turns towards the turned-over tables and chairs. “I’ll fix the tables and chairs. I’ll have what you’re having.”

“Noted." Mikasa states as she makes her way to the counter. She peruses the menu and, after a minute of deliberating, settles on a sandwich platter and chamomile tea. She vaguely wonders if the tea selection is meant for customers with hangovers.

After an enthusiastic Frances takes their order, she makes her way to Levi, who has just finished righting the disarray of furniture. As she approaches, her co-captain suddenly pulls out a chair and gestures for her to sit.

Mikasa looks at him questioningly, and he tilts his head towards the offered chair.

She decides to play along. “How very gentlemanly of you.” She jests, voice half-coquettish as she moves to sit.

“Only for you, my lady.” He drawls as he pushes the chair in for her.

They both snicker at the mocking references to their noble backgrounds.

“So, what are we having?” He asks as he sits from across her.

“Tea and sandwiches.” He raised a brow at ‘tea’, and she smiles. "I know; I was also surprised to see it on the menu.”

Levi hums. “In any case, it’s too early for liquor.”

A few minutes pass, and Frances approaches their table with their food and drinks. “Here are your orders. Enjoy!”

The co-captains both thank the female shop owner, and they split the sandwiches and tea between themselves.

Comfortable silence ensues as they eat their sandwiches. Levi muses that the saloon’s turkey sandwich is quite good. He takes a look at the sandwich in Mikasa’s hand and deduces from the green poking out from the bread that it’s full of vegetables.

After he finishes his food and begins stirring his tea, a random realization suddenly occurs to him.

“Something wrong?” Mikasa asks, noticing the contemplative furrow of his brow.

“No.” He replies, taking out the spoon from his cup and gripping it by the rim. “It’s just that I realized you actually used the ‘I’m going to tell my daddy’ card.”

Mikasa blinks at the remark. A beat of silence passes before she bursts into laughter.

Her shoulders slightly shake as hearty chuckles flow from her. She laughs in earnest at the absurdity and the truth of the statement.

Levi’s lips curve upwards at her open display of mirth, observing how her usually stern eyes crinkle at the corners and how genuine joy shines through her typically reserved expression.

“I’m sorry.” Mikasa says, still giggling as she adjusts her cravat around her neck. “You’re right, but it’s just so ridiculous.” She remarks, her smile wide. “Come to think of it, I’ve never used it before.” She muses out loud, her lips still twitching.

“At least you used it for a good cause.” He quips, sharing in her amusement.

She chortles at his joke. He also lets out an amused sound.

She eventually sobers down, though a small smile still remains on her lips.

But after a moment, her eyes suddenly become downcast, and her smile disappears.

Levi frowns in concern at the abrupt change in her demeanor. “What’s wrong?”

She takes a breath before directing her gaze towards the afternoon sky beyond the saloon’s window.

“Moments like this…” she speaks quietly as she raises her hand to gesture at their light-hearted conversation, “…don’t come by often.” A sad gleam then enters her eyes. “In a way, it’s… sort of unsettling.”

Levi’s lips press into a firm line at the reality of her words. Every soldier in the Survey Corps knows that every encounter with the Titans could be their very last. Danger, risk, and bloodshed are their constant companions. And the absences of the comrades lost will always be felt by those who live to join the next expedition.

The survivors know that it is their duty to honor the sacrifices of the fallen by carrying on with their mission. Yet, this knowledge hangs heavy over the heads of those who remain standing.

“I know what you mean.” He says, voice solemn. “Enjoying a moment of peace can be hard sometimes, considering the things we go through.”

They remain quiet for a while, the atmosphere suddenly tenser. Mikasa closes her eyes and sighs before speaking again.

“Sometimes, I wonder what my life would be like right now if I had stayed in the Capital or joined the clan’s Elite Royal Company.” She stares intently into her cup of tea, wistfulness underlying her tone. “I would probably be promenading with the other nobles in the parks. Or patrolling the grounds at the Fritz castle. Either way, my life would be simpler and less daunting."

A flash of resolve then enters her gaze. “But I already made my choice a long time ago.” She declares with a quiet certainty in her words. “And I’ve chosen to be a soldier for the Survey Corps.”

Levi quietly observes her profile. She sits with the graceful posture of a noble lady – a result of her upbringing. But her shoulders are squared with a soldier’s discipline. She holds her teacup delicately, but her fingers are calloused from years of wielding blades. Had she chosen differently, she could have been a socialite hostess.

The passing thought then prompts a question. “Why didyou join the Survey Corps in the first place?”

Mikasa half-smiles at that. It was a question she was often asked – the daughter of a noble joining any of the military branches was unheard of. Although, she never divulged anything apart from saying that she merely wanted to.

“I could ask you the same question, Levi.” She prompts back.

For all his fame, no one has ever known of his reason for joining the Survey Corps. Not surprising, since he would always brush off anyone who asks by telling them that it’s none of their damn business.

But Levi decides that he wouldn’t mind making an exception for her. “I’ll share if you share.”

Mikasa hums as if contemplating the proposition. “Fair enough.”

A moment passes before she continues. “I joined because of my Asian heritage.”

He raises a brow in confusion. But stays silent and waits for her to elaborate.

“The Azumabitos are the last Asians in the world.” She explains. “Our clan’s records state that our ancestors’ homeland, Asia, was full of rare creatures and mysterious fauna. Unfortunately, just like every other continent, it was invaded along with the rest of humanity by the Titans.”

“My parents gave me everything I needed while growing up. But they taught me that if I wanted something, then I should work to earn it.” Mikasa pauses as her lips twist wryly. “And since I wanted to see the roots of my Asian heritage, I decided as a child that I would join the Survey Corps to help eradicate the Titans.”

“It’s silly.” She remarks, more to herself, amused at her younger self’s reason. “But it’s what prompted me to enlist.”

Her expression then becomes more pensive, and she redirects her gaze to the table between them. “But after my first expedition, I realized that there are things which are bigger than my wants. I suppose you could say that it opened my eyes. Seeing first-hand the dangers and struggles made me understand the weight of the Corps’ mission.”

She looks up at him again. “I still want to see Asia…” she admits with a bashful look. “… and if we can eradicate the Titans during my lifetime, then I’ll be to do that.”

“But even if that won’t happen, I won’t have any regrets about joining the Survey Corps.”

With that, she concludes her piece. Levi remains quiet for a moment, feeling astounded and moved at the revelation.

“I’m glad that you joined, Mikasa.” He says softly.

She smiles at his remark. “Thank you for saying that.” A tinge of levity then enters her dark orbs. “Now, I believe it’s your turn to share.”

Levi tsks, but there’s mirth in the slight quirk of his mouth. “I suppose a deal’s a deal.”

He swirls the contents of his teacup before speaking. “When I was a kid, my great grandfather would always preach about upholding the clan’s tradition of being the Crown’s ‘Sword and Shield’.” He drawls out the last two words.

“Just like you and everyone else in our clan, I was trained to be the best fighter possible – because, of course, the royal family only expects the best to protect it.” He pauses to take a drink.

“Sure, it’s natural for the royal family to have protection.” He concedes. “But our clan’s talents are being wasted. The biggest threats are out there beyond the Walls, and our clansmen use their many years of special training to deal with problems that the Military Police pigs are supposed to handle.”

Levi lifts his gaze to hers. "So, I said to myself, ‘to hell with tradition’.”

She lets out a small laugh. “Of course, you would say something like that.”

He smirks before taking another sip. “So, I decided to enlist in the Survey Corps. Thankfully, my uncle became head of the clan even before my rite of passage. And since he isn’t as uptight and prissy as my great grandfather was, he let me go without much of a fuss. I wanted to put my skills to better use. And what better way to use them than to reclaim the lands stolen by the Titans from humanity?”

“And after everything I’ve seen…” he trails off, a more somber and pensive look in his eyes as he stares at his cup, “…I’m now surer than ever that I made the right choice.”

A quiet second passes before Mikasa speaks. “That’s very noble of you.” She says, her voice earnest.

Her co-captain snorts out a harsh laugh. “If it were anyone else, I’d say that they were kissing my ass.”

Remembering the incident with the two MPs earlier, she likewise smiles in good humor; his words can’t be any truer.

“But since it’s you…” his harsh smirk morphs into a gentler smile, “… thanks.”

Her smile remains as their eyes meet again.

“You know, it’s odd…” she begins off-handedly, “We’ve known each other for years, but this is the first time we talked about something like this.”

He raises a brow. “Is it? I wasn’t aware that there was a standard timeline for sharing things.”

Another light laugh escapes her, and Mikasa wonders if Levi realizes how humorous he can be at times.

---

Chatter fills the air of the communal dining hall of the Southern Division’s Cadet Corps Headquarters – with the main source of noise and talk being the long dining table where Eren Yeager sits with his friends.

“Eren, what you did was really cool!”

“Yeah, I don’t think that anyone else here would’ve been able to do that!”

From his seat at another table at the far right of the hall, Jean Kirstein watches as several trainees crowd around Yeager and pay him compliments for his incredible feat earlier this morning.

Connie sits across the green-eyed recruit with a wide grin on his face. “Eren, you were amazing earlier!” He exclaims. “Being able to balance yourself using defective equipment was incredible!”

Beside him, Sasha nods enthusiastically as she munches on a loaf of bread. She smiles broadly after gulping down her food. "You really did well, all things considered!" She exclaims while not so discreetly trying to take Connie's bread from his plate.

The shaved-headed boy snatches her wrist before she could lift the loaf to her mouth. “Oh, come on! You haven’t even finished your own bread!” He grumbles, exasperated as Sasha strains against his grip.

Eren chuckles at the display before scratching the back of his head with a sheepish expression. Even so, his green eyes seem to glow with pride and appreciation. “Thanks, guys.”

“Congratulations on a job well done, Eren.” Christa speaks from amongst the group that congregated around the table. “Your determination paid off.”

Eren's cheeks redden slightly at her smile. "Thanks, Christa. But I can't take all of the credit. Armin here gave me pointers, and Reiner and Betholdt told me to keep calm and not to give up." He then turns to the male blonde seated next to him. "Isn't that right, buddy?"

Armin’s lips quirk upwards. “It’s true that you got help, but all the work was you.”

“Armin’s right.” Reiner’s deep voice resounds from one side of the crowd. To his left, Bertholdt silently watches the interactions with a small smile. “At the end of the day, you were the one ultimately responsible for your success.”

Jean watches as more trainees give the brunette praises for his resolve and performance. It isn’t until he feels something nudge him in the side that he turns away.

“Just talk to him already.” Marco urges with a knowing look.

Jean scoffs at the comment. “Talk to Yeager? About what?”

Marco simply gives him a half-amused and half-exasperated smile. “You know what I mean.” He then picks up his glass of water. “It’s good that you want to apologize. It’s a mature thing to do.” He says before taking a drink.

Jean grumbles something unintelligible as he observes the sky through an open window. The last rays of sunlight are starting to fade behind the darkening sky. He can see some of their Commandant's assistant officers patrolling the grounds and inspecting the outdoor training equipment to ensure they're still working properly.

As his gaze lands on the row of 3DM gear simulators, Jean recalls how he, along with nearly everyone, laughed at Eren when he failed to steady himself using 3DM gear during his first attempt. He also remembers snidely commenting that Yeager was just "all talk and no bite" and how he brushed him off when he asked for pointers to improve.

Jean then sighs before getting up and walking over to the green-eyed recruit’s table.

---

Armin and Eren were in the middle of speaking with fellow recruits when the blonde sees Jean walking up to their table.

“Uhh… Eren?” He taps his friend on the shoulder.

At the prodding, Eren turns away from Mina and Thomas, who were standing behind him. His eyes narrow at the sight of Jean standing behind the other recruits surrounding their table. “What do you want, horse face?”

The entire room goes silent as everyone turns to Jean. The man in question averts his gaze as his cheeks flush at suddenly being the center of attention.

He stays silent for a moment before speaking. “I’m not here to fight.” He then finally raises his gaze to look at Eren. The crowd parts as he moves closer to the table.

Armin notes the sudden tension in the air as his childhood best friend stares at Jean with a cautious look – he deduces that Eren is not entirely convinced that Kirstein came in peace.

Jean halts when he’s near the edge of their table, just a couple of feet from where Eren sits. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.

“I’ll be honest. I still think that going after Titans is stupidly dangerous.”

Eren's eyes further narrow at the remark. He rises to his feet, but Armin pulls at his arm before he can move towards Jean. "Hear him out first.” The blonde half-pleads.

Eren frowns but nonetheless sits back down. His eyes are still trained on Kirstein, who instinctively took a step back at his abrupt movement.

Jean takes another breath before continuing. “But I now get how serious you are.” He admits, voice quiet but clear. “You have real resolve, and I respect that. And I’m…” He pauses, his pride momentarily stifling his next words.

“… I’m sorry for making fun of you before.”

Some trainees gasp lightly while some simply stare – all surprised at his gesture. Armin sees that even Connie and Sasha have paused their food-related grappling to gawk at Jean. The blonde also quietly muses that the entire room probably half-expected another fight to erupt between the two boys. All eyes are now trained on Eren, who looks astounded with his eyes widened and mouth slightly agape.

Armin then lightly nudges his friend’s shoulder. “Well, aren’t you going to say anything?”

The question shakes the green-eyed trainee from his stupor. He blinks once before rising to stand – more calmly, Armin notes approvingly.

“Thanks, Jean.” The hardened look in his gaze is now gone. “I appreciate you saying that. Apology accepted.” He says with a small smile.

“And for what it’s worth…” Eren trails off as his eyes dart downwards, a hint of shame in them, “… I shouldn’t have scoffed at you for wanting to go into the Interior. After all, there’s nothing wrong with wanting to be safe.”

He then looks directly at Jean again. “So, I guess I also owe you an apology.” He admits with a half-smile, hoping that it would lighten the mood.

It seems to have worked as Kirstein offers him a smile. “Glad to know that you can see things my way, Yeager.”

Eren grins more naturally at the response. “So… friends?” He asks, voice tentative as he holds out his hand.

Jean looks at the offered hand in surprise for a moment before observing the other boy’s expression. There’s a mix of uncertainty and apprehension in his countenance – possibly wary of how he would respond. But the look in Yeager’s eyes tells him that the offer of friendship is genuine.

He eventually grasps the hand offered to him. “Friends.” He says while giving it a firm shake.

There’s a smattering of applause as the crowd gives a slight cheer at the show of camaraderie. Armin especially claps heartily at the sight of the usually hot-headed Eren making peace with Jean even as he hears Connie yelp when Sasha takes advantage of the distraction to take a massive bite from the Springer boy’s loaf.

“Well, it’s nice that we’re all finally getting along.” Marco comments with a smile from the sidelines, hands still pressed together from clapping.

Jean sends a slightly annoyed look at Marco, who only continues to smile in return.

---

End Note: So, the 104th gang finally appears! Since Mikasa is a veteran in this story, I wanted to play a little with the dynamics of the 104th's relationships with one another. On this, I wanted Eren and Jean to have a friendlier relationship in this story than in canon. I hope that I was able to execute this idea (as well as all my other ideas) properly. Lol.

In any case, let me know what you think! Critiques and comments are most welcome!

#rivamika #levimika #levi x mikasa

[suituuup]

pieces - chapter eleven

Five years ago, Chloe dropped off the face of the Earth. Beca didn’t expect to see her again dancing in a strip club, out of all places.

rated: E (drug use and emotional abuse in early chapters)

ao3 link

*

Beca woke up the next morning to the birds singing, which was odd, until she remembered she wasn’t in NYC, but in Oregon, at Chloe’s parents’. A glance at her phone told her she had slept later than she usually did, and she burrowed herself deeper beneath the covers, exhaling a sigh. 

The smell of breakfast eventually lured out of the warm cocoon, and she made a stop at the bathroom before heading downstairs. 

Chloe’s mom was cooking at the stove, and she looked over her shoulder when Beca approached. “Oh, good morning, Beca. Did you sleep well?” 

Beca wasn’t usually one to talk in the mornings, at least not before she had her morning coffee, but she mustered a smile and made an effort. “Morning. Yes, thank you.” 

“Chloe told me you drank coffee in the morning. I put a mug out for you on the table, there’s fresh coffee in the pot. You like pancakes?” She asked as she flipped one in her pan. 

Beca could tell where Chloe (or at least college Chloe) got her morning energy from, and she stifled a chuckle as she moved to pour herself a much-needed cup. “Yeah. Pancakes sound great.” She leaned against the counter, cradling her mug between her palms. “Where’s Chloe?”

“Talking with her dad out on the back porch,” Alice said, adding the freshly made pancake to the pile. She turned off the stove and wiped her hands on her apron, focusing on Beca. “We didn’t have the chance to yesterday, but Mike and I wanted to thank you from the bottom of our hearts for what you did for Chloe. Thank you really doesn’t feel like enough. I’m not sure where she’d be without you.” 

“You really don’t need to thank me. I’m just glad she’s doing better.” 

“And for taking over those payments, too. It-- it feels like too much and…” 

Beca shook her head. “Like I said to Chloe, it really is okay, Mrs. Bea-- Alice. I don’t want to flaunt my money around, but I’m more than able to spare 2000 dollars a month, and I’m happy to spend it helping people who need it, like you and Mike. So please, accept it?” She smiled softly. “I know how much you mean to Chloe, and I’d do anything for her.” 

Before Alice could reply, the door at the back of the kitchen opened and Chloe stepped inside, holding it open to let her father wheel in. She cast Beca a smile. “Hey, you. Sleep well? Mom didn’t attack you with questions, did she? I told her you needed coffee first.” 

“I behaved myself,” Alice mumbled, sticking her tongue out before going back to her pancakes. 

Beca chuckled. “She did.” 

After breakfast, Beca helped herself to a shower, before Chloe whisked her away to show her around town. They drove down the main street, and Chloe parked in front of the local high school, cutting the ignition and stepping out. . 

“I feel like you were Head Cheerleader,” Beca said as she shut the door. The smell of the ocean made her smile and breathe in deeply. It was really nice to get out of the city for a bit. 

Chloe smirked, shaking her head as they headed down the sidewalk of what looked like the main street. “Nope.” 

“Softball? You had to be some sort of athlete.” 

“Wrong again.” 

Beca hummed as she thought. “Track?” 

Chloe slipped her hands inside her jacket pockets, walking backward so she was facing Beca. “You’re looking at Oregon’s 400m State Champion for the year 2006.” 

Beca’s jaw dropped. “Seriously? How come you never told me that??” 

Chloe’s shoulders lifted in a shrug. “Never came up. I’ll show you my trophy when we get home.” She pointed across the street. “This is the cafe my friends and I went to every weekend to gossip about the boys.” 

“Gossiping about boys, huh?” Beca asked, smirking. “Who was your high school crush?” 

“This guy named Ian. He was on the swimming team.” 

Beca cut her a glance. “You guys ever dated?” 

“He asked me out once. Then he asked another girl to prom. I was heartbroken.” 

“Aw.” Beca grinned. “Did you cross off the love doodles featuring his name from your notebooks while belting out to songs from your break-up playlist?”

Chloe shoved her shoulder as Beca laughed. “Shut up. I didn’t have a break-up playlist.” 

“But you had one for songs you liked getting off to?” Beca couldn’t help but tease. “Weirdo.” 

A bright laugh burst past Chloe’s lips. “I can’t believe I burst into your shower.” 

A fond smile spread across Beca’s features at the memory. “And I can’t believe I still auditioned knowing my stalker was part of the group.” 

“I wasn’t a stalker!” Chloe cried, her jaw-dropping. She giggled. “I just… sort of ignored the boundaries.” 

“Which is what stalkers do,” Beca pointed out with another smirk. “It’s cool. I’m glad you did, in hindsight. I got to meet the people who would end up becoming my best friends for life.” 

Chloe narrowed her eyes, amusement flashing in her features. “When did you get so cheesy?” 

A groan flitted past Beca’s lips. “Ugh. Gross, right?” 

As Chloe laughed, Beca realized how much she had missed the banter. Every little piece of Chloe Beale surfacing never failed to make her smile. 

Chloe’s step faltered when they came across a baby shop, her eyes lingering on the window. 

Beca smiled, nudging Chloe’s shoulder with her own. “We can go in if you want?” 

A matching smile spread across Chloe’s features as she nodded, and they both stepped inside the medium-sized store.

“Jesus, kids need that much stuff?” Beca asked as she glanced around the various items, muttering an apology when the employee glanced at her. 

Stifling a giggle, Chloe headed to the onesie section and browsed through the rack. “Oh Bec, look,” she said, holding up a simple, white onesie that read little bean in cool lettering. The smile that lit up Chloe’s face as she looked at the item was the first one Beca had seen reach her eyes since Chloe had been back in her life and the sight of it made her heart swell.

Chloe must have felt her staring, and she glanced up curiously. “What?”

“Nothing,” she cleared her throat. “You’re just… glowing.”

“I think you should get it,” she added not to make it awkward. “It’s adorable.”

After their stop at the store, she and Chloe headed to the wharf for lunch. It was a sunny, warm spring day, and they sat on a bench in front of the sea to eat their sandwiches as Chloe shared more memories about growing up in her hometown. 

“So how did you and Sarah meet?” Chloe asked following a lull in the conversation. 

Beca finished chewing her bite and swallowed, washing it down with a sip of soda. “I used to go to the coffee shop pretty often for lunch. We would talk for a bit each time. I was clueless to her flirting, it was only when she left her number that I realized she was into me.” 

Chloe chuckled, eyeing her with a raised eyebrow. “You? Clueless to flirting? That doesn’t sound right.” 

Beca’s eyes rolled skyward as she fought back a smile. “Bite me, Beale.” 

Chloe giggled. “Sorry. She seems like a great girl, though.” 

“Yeah,” Beca breathed out, trying to ignore the way her stomach flipped. “She really is.” 

And she meant that. She cared a lot about Sarah, but ever since their talk about a month ago, she had been questioning her own commitment to their relationship, going back and forth about what she wanted. The fact that she had been so oblivious about Sarah’s needs to take the next step because she felt comfortable with where they were at was the first red flag that she wasn’t all in. 

People should feel the need to move forward after fourteen months together, right? 

Sarah was kind, funny, loving, and everything Beca imagined in a significant other, but whenever she found herself trying to picture their life down the road, two, five, ten years from now, her mind went blank. 

“You okay?” Chloe asked, her head tilted as she gazed at Beca. 

“Yeah,” Beca breathed out, shaking those thoughts out of her head and focusing back on Chloe. She cleared her throat. “What’s next on the list, Beale?” 

After buying ice-creams from her favorite shop, Chloe took her to her favorite beach, and they headed home around three, as Chloe felt like taking a nap. 

Over the next two days at her parents’, they baked, took walks in the forest or by the sea, and had movie nights with Alice and Mike. Beca made sure to give the three some family time as well, spending a couple of hours every day working on her laptop in the guest room. 

That last night in Oregon, she found Chloe on the swingset in the garden, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. Beca approached with two hot chocolates, handing one over before lowering herself on the other swing. 

“I’ve yet to find a prettier sky than this one,” Chloe mused aloud, craning her neck to look at the starry darkness above them as she cradled her mug between her palms. 

“It’s pretty dope,” Beca agreed softly. She glanced at Chloe, and finally plucked the courage to word the thought that had been going in a loop in her mind since their first night in Newport. “Have you given some thought about moving back here?” 

She was hoping Chloe would stay with her, to be completely honest. They had just rekindled, and Beca didn’t want her to live on the other side of the country. She could also feel some sort of attachment to Bean, which sounded ridiculous as they weren’t even born yet. But she also understood that Chloe might want to be with her parents, someplace that is close to her heart.

“I don’t know yet,” Chloe admitted, clearing her throat. “I’m concerned about disrupting their lives with a newborn baby. Mom’s already got so much on her plate with taking care of dad, and I don’t know if me being around while I’m still recovering is the smartest idea, with my dad feeling so guilty. I want him to focus on his health. But I guess it would be simpler, right? For you, I mean.” 

Beca shook her head. “I told you you could stay as long as you’d like. My place is your home, and I…” she cleared her throat, shrugging as her gaze flickered back to the stars. “I like having you around.”

“I like living with you, too,” Chloe admitted, smiling softly. “And I like my therapist and my NA group.” 

And having a routine was essential for a recovering addict. 

“Then it feels like a no-brainer,” Beca concluded.

“What about Sarah?” Chloe asked after a moment. “Are you sure she’s okay with me living with you?” 

The mention of Sarah made Beca’s heart squeeze with guilt. The last few days only further confirmed how she felt. She wasn’t missing her like she was probably supposed to, even though it had been ten days since they had last seen one another, as Beca had been too busy to do anything besides working, eating and sleeping that week leading up to their trip. 

She had been sending Sarah check-in texts because she felt like she had to, not because she wanted to. 

Beca needed to sack up and be honest with Sarah, something she had been delaying because she was a coward and terrified of breaking her heart. But she knew deep down she was doing more harm than good right now by running away from how she truly felt. 

She knew deep down, that Sarah deserved someone better.  

“Yeah,” she replied absent-mindedly, swallowing, then mustering a smile. “Don’t worry about that.” 

She sent a text to Sarah later that night, asking if she could come over after they landed in NYC tomorrow night. The following morning, she and Chloe grabbed an early breakfast, as they needed to be in Portland at ten. 

“You’re welcome back here anytime, Beca,” Alice said, pulling back from the hug. 

A genuine smile spread across Beca’s features. “Thanks, Alice.” 

“Bye dad,” Chloe murmured, leaning in to hug him tightly. 

Mike closed his eyes and hugged her back. “Safe travels, Chlobear. Love you.” 

“Love you, too. So much.” She embraced her mom next, echoing the same sentiment before sliding into the passenger seat and shutting the door behind her. 

Beca slid behind the wheel and started the car, pulling out of the driveway and onto the main road as Chloe waved to her parents. 

“You okay?” She asked after a moment, glancing at Chloe briefly. 

“Yeah, I’m good,” Chloe replied with a firm nod. “Thanks for coming with me.” 

“No problem. A break from the city was pretty nice.” 

They landed in NYC a little bit after 8 pm. Beca had the cabbie drop Chloe off at her apartment, then headed to Sarah’s, riding the elevator to her floor. 

She knocked on the door and stepped back, wiping her sweaty palms over the denim of her jeans. Her stomach was in knots, and she wished she could fast-forward the next twenty minutes or so. The door swung open a few seconds later, Sarah standing on the other side. 

“Hey you,” she greeted with a small smile. 

“Hey,” Beca murmured, kissing Sarah’s cheek out of habit. “How was your day?” 

“Same old,” Sarah said as she shut the door, then moved towards the kitchen. “How was the trip? You want a beer?”

“It was nice,” Beca replied as she followed, leaning against the counter. “No thanks, I’m good.” She took a deep breath, knowing she had to do this now before she chickened out. 

“What’s up?” Sarah asked as she closed the fridge and turned around, leaning against the opposite counter.

Beca cleared her throat, nibbling on the inside of her cheek. “So, um. I’ve been thinking a lot about us moving in together and I…” Honesty. Honesty was the best policy. Rip off the band-aid. “I don’t see myself getting there.”

Sarah visibly swallowed, and she nodded slowly, glancing down at the floor for a few beats. Given her reaction, Beca could tell she had been sort of expecting it.

“I’m sorry,” Beca murmured, a lump rising in her throat. “I know I gave you false hope by saying we would figure something out, I just wasn’t sure how I felt up until recently.” She grimaced. “The last thing I want is to hurt you. But you deserve someone who can be all in.”

The tear running down Sarah’s face broke Beca’s heart. She blinked back her own, exhaling slowly. 

“Like you seem to be all in with Chloe?” Sarah asked quietly, stunning Beca into silence. 

“What?” 

Sarah’s eyes rolled towards the ceiling. “You’re oblivious to that, too?” When Beca didn’t say anything, she released a soft laugh. It was anything but humorous. “I see the way you look at her, Bec. I know the both of you living together was something that just happened because Chloe didn’t have anywhere to stay, but I can tell you like having her around. I can tell you have feelings, even if you don’t seem to realize it yet. I was hoping I was wrong, but you not hesitating on going on that trip when we hadn’t seen each other in over a week made it pretty clear that Chloe would always come first.” 

Beca’s brain was stuck on the first part. Did she really look at Chloe differently? Feelings? She cared about her, sure, but-- “That’s not—”

Sarah swiped her palm over her cheeks, nodding. “And you’re right. I deserve someone who looks at me the way you look at Chloe. Like I’m their person. Someone who loves me as much as I love them.” 

“Me ending things doesn’t have anything to do with Chloe,” Beca said softly, truly believing that. She knew the next words were going to sting, but she needed Sarah to believe it, too. “I just… don’t see this going anywhere.” She hung her head, feeling like the worst person in the world for breaking someone’s heart. “I’m sorry, Sarah.” 

“Yeah. Me, too.” Sarah cleared her throat, pinching her lips together for a moment, seemingly trying to keep a hold on her emotions. “I think you should go.” 

Beca nodded, another apology laying on the top of her tongue. She swallowed it back knowing it probably wouldn’t make Sarah feel any better, and pushed to her feet, quietly walking out of Sarah’s apartment.

#bechloe #beca mitchell #chloe beale #pieces

[gagmebucky]

[steve. breeding kink. baby.]

“Wanna know what makes it worse?” Steve leans in and trails his nose along the inviting curve of your shoulder and neck until his lips are adjacent with your ear. “My sense of smell, it tells me when your body is just ripe for the taking. It’s like you’re fucking calling me every single month—begging me to put your little pussy out of your misery. . . fuck and fuck until you’re milkin’ my kid right outta me.”

in which you’re playing with a baby and steve can’t resist himself. (includes steve’s pov, avenger!steve rogers x girlfriend!reader, breeding kink, dirty talk, praise kink, mild daddy kink, unprotected sex.) 

do not repost.

—

Procedure requires debriefing at the end of every mission. In this hours-long process, an agent must recap the objectives and the means used to achieve them; deviations to the original plan and why; as well as whether success was gained, and any other pertinent intel possibly acquired.

This routine is mandatory for all those working for and with an organization like S.H.I.E.L.D.; not even the Avengers are exempt from this. Except in this particular case where the titular first of the super-powered team has forgone the professional necessity, and instead, is in search of you. 

Normally, America’s golden boy can handle the dangers that occur in such a violent but imperative field. He understands the risks and pressures inherent to his line of duty, and he’s always accepted it, dealt with it because the overall outcome dwarfs the bad.

On this particular assignment, however, the stakes were higher than usual and although the quick snap-quick decisions he made ultimately paid off, it didn’t soften the blow of the sacrifices made. Times like this, he has to wonder if it’s worth it.

The tension weighs on his shoulders and crackles underneath his skin; his synapses are frayed with the memory of each fallen agent, the orders he doled out preambling every one, and the electricity curls his fists and locks his jaw. It’s corrupting that logical part of his brain, and that craving for vengeance can’t be sated with  his knuckles breaking a few punching bags. 

In rare moments like these, when the serum is pumping through his veins like rabies, there’s one thing to straighten the edges and bring him back from the trenches. That solace is you; your alluring smile and twinkling eyes, the musical carry of your laugh, your seemingly innate ability to figure out what’s wrong and quell the turmoil cycloning inside of him. 

So he doesn’t report to Fury like he’s supposed to, doesn’t go over the myriad of errors that only worsened as the mission progressed—no one stops him either. 

When employees spot him marching down the corridors, stealth suit still on and rippling across his hulking mass, his strides colliding deafeningly with the floor, handsome and affable features tightened intensely, their only recourse is moved out of the way. Thankfully, they get the hint because if someone hadn’t, he knows he’d snap and do something he might regret. 

His senses, formerly haywire in his manic state, have lasered into tunnel focus; his eardrums hone in on the specific sound wave of your crooning voice, and the olfactory nerves in his nostrils guide him in a trail to the source of your intoxicating essence.

Steve slams the door open and storms into the upper, restricted level of the headquarters. His hastened pace slows upon your increased dose, lulling his awareness and distance waning significantly. As his search nears its end, he recognizes where he’s at: the luxurious space designed by and created for Tony Stark. 

The doors are open so he doesn’t waste time knocking (not that he possesses the patience to abide by his hundred year old manners). Upon entry, he’s taken the tranquility occupying the atmosphere and the sight of you bathed in the sun’s glow; bright rays beam through the impenetrable windowed wall of the tower while you gently rock the three month old baby perched on your shoulder, probably basking in the dual warmth of you and the star.    

From afar, behind you, the brown-eyed girl’s mother stands. With her head tilted and soft gratefulness slanted into her lips, the strawberry blonde’s hip rests against the office’s wet bar and watches fondly as you effortlessly soothe her child’s fussiness into a thumb-sucking slumber. 

“Aren’t they cute?” Pepper Potts remarks as he steps beside her. Her gaze maintains on his girlfriend and her daughter. “Morgan would not stop crying for the past few hours, and I did everything to calm her down. I was frazzled and at my wit’s end then I handed her off to her aunt, and now she’s as quiet as a mouse.” She pauses and spares a glance over to his adoration-fixed stare, a slyness twisting into her smile. “I don't know what stage you two are at but she’d make a great mom.” 

Steve knows you occasionally babysit for the Starks, but he’s never seen you like this. You’re in your element, swaying back and forth while you hum inaudibly into the infamous delicate baby’s ear. Her small hands are curled around your neck and her face nuzzled into the crease of your shoulder, with the opposing thumb slid between her lips as her big chocolate eyes flutter into a peaceful rest. 

Suddenly breathless—but it’s not from the exertion—he has to agree, nodding his head. “Y - yeah,” he answers to both statements because it’s fucking adorable, and while there’s never been a doubt about your caring nature, this cements the fact that you would be an amazing mother. The sensation boils in his gut, and his fingers twitch at his sides. “Has she always been this good with her?”

“Oh, yeah,” Pepper tells him matter-of-factly. “With her, other kids, too. She came with us to the park, and this one kid was screaming his head off and she just went over and poof! He was happy.” Her eyes are back on your slow pacing silhouette. “I would swear she was made for this. I bet she was a nanny in another life.” 

His knuckles clench as her words ignite the simmering inferno of his being. Made for this, made for this, echoes in his head and he has to remind himself that he’s in public. But the primal image of you, radiating like an angel with a little piece of him growing inside you, has already carved itself in the forefront of his psyche.

Steve has never been into traditional gender roles, not even when he was in his time and it was the norm (he’s always been a very progressive thinker). But, God, he can’t deny the appeal now that he has you. There’s something so primally satisfying about having you at home, free of any worries that aren’t about your family, potentially—preferably—knocked up.

The carnal urge grips him more intensely than before. Usually, he can suppress that visceral desire to bury himself bare inside you and spill his virility until he further claims you as his. However, receiving a glimpse of you in this maternal state, it has every instinct screaming that you’re irrefutably perfect and primed. 

As if on cue, you turn around with the effectively lullabied infant clinging around your neck. After a flicker of surprise, pleasant then concerned, you pad on over to carefully hand over Morgan to her thankful mother. Your attention rivets back to him with a knitted brow gaze. 

“Babe, hey,” you greet in a gentle voice. Worry ebbs into your gaze amongst the usual stare of attraction upon dragging across the navy blue material that still clings to his muscular torso. You offer your hand, which he immediately takes, and you guide him out of the office into the hallway. The door shuts behind you, and the sectioned off level is empty, but your voice is still quiet when asking, “What happened?”  

You stand barely a breath away, and the proximity pacifies his senses. His stance loosens while a smile upturns a corner of his mouth. “Nothing,” he answers then clarifies, “Nothing that matters anymore, anyway.” 

The amendment dwindles your concerned curiosity because it’s honest—he doesn’t need to dwell when you’re standing here—and you can hear it; another lovingly scrutinizing up-and-down glance confirms that his earlier disquietude has settled significantly.

“D’you have fun back there?” he goes onto wonder, eyes flickering over to the closed door.   Your earlier titillatingly visage snaps into his brain, and he subconsciously bites down on his bottom lip. “You looked like you were.” 

You accept his subject-change with a nonchalant shrug. “Babies like me, and I like them,” you tell him, smiling at the admission. “What can I say?”

“I don’t know. Maybe that you want me to knock you up.” The words fumble out of his mouth before he thinks about it, and while he hadn’t intended on letting it slip, if he did, it would’ve been without the serious fluctuation he blurted it out with. 

In a lame attempt to correct his slip of the tongue regarding a topic you both rarely discussed, he quickly adds, “I’m joking.” A surprised expression had crossed your features upon processing his former response, transitioning into something he can’t yet pinpoint if he likes. As if to test the waters—or dig himself into a deeper hole—he says, matter-of-factly, borderline suggestive, “But you know, back in my day, you’d probably already have a few popped out by now.”

“Mr. Rogers!” you gasp in an almost-shocked tone, but your cheeks split with a devious grin. “Are you telling me you want to be a daddy?” 

Disheveled by his mission, then upended by your placating presence, he’s more awkward than the day he met you. “Fuck. Look, I’d never pressure you, okay?” For the millionth time, the previous scene plays mentally; he exhales heavily. “It’s just you with her, and I. . . never mind.” He shakes his head, deciding he’s still on the edge from both events today, and dismisses his animalistic inkling. “Act like I didn’t say anything.” 

You fold your arms and nod.

“Uh-huh, daddy,” you drawl, scintillating in mischievousness that simultaneously has his heart skipping a beat and his cock jumping. Your smirk widens before disappearing beneath a cascade of feigned innocence. “We can just act like you don’t want me to have your kid.”

 His lips part at your teasing twist of his words. “That’s - that’s not what I said.” 

“Isn’t it?” You lift a brow. “It is. So, maybe I should find a guy who does. I think any other man would take immense pleasure in going condomless inside of me.” One hand wiggles into your jacket pocket while you peddle away from his orbit; a rectangular plastic ruffles as his reflexes instinctively catch it. “You know, I think Bucky would really appreciate me. I bet he’d have the manners to really wife me up and make me—“

He knows you’re poking fun of him; playfulness alight within your gaze that he usually enjoys. In actuality, he understands there’s zero truth in your jesting and he’d be more amused than jealous. However, currently, the circumstances have corrupted his sensibilities. 

“That’s not funny.”

Your laugh echoes musically. “It’s not ‘cause it isn’t a joke,” you say between your giggles, your amusement pardoning your spacial awareness. “I mean—Steve!” Your yelp is louder and even more musical when he surges forth and reigns you in. 

Air expels from your chest as his body cages yours against the wall. Using one hand to brace himself above you, his opposing appendage tilts your dazed blinking up. “Now do you really think I don’t want you to carry my kid?” he rumbles. “Because if it were up to me, I would’ve taken claim to your womb the second I saw you.” 

Your breathing hitches, and you try to remain unaffected but he’s too keen on your reactions to be fooled. “O - oh?” 

“Yeah.” His tongue swipes across his bottom lip. “Wanna know what makes it worse?” He leans in and trails his nose along the inviting curve of your shoulder and neck until his lips are adjacent to your ear. “My sense of smell, it tells me when your body is just ripe for the taking. It’s like you’re fucking calling me every single month—begging me to put your little pussy out of your misery. . . fuck and fuck until you’re milkin’ my kid right outta me.” 

A sound, hybrid between a moan and a gasp, escapes your throat; humor eviscerated, desire exudes from you and submerges his senses in a provoking intoxication. The rush sinks into his brain and triggers that visceral frenzy within him but he has no interest in suppressing it anymore. 

He releases a guttural groan and grabs your hips. His big hands splay on either side, thumb slightly kneading back and forth, and he draws you in closer. “I can smell you right now, too. Not only how wet you’re gettin’ but that it’s that time for you, isn’t it?” he purrs and nips at your lobe. “You’re mine for the taking.” His teeth catch your pulse, sucking a mark onto the vulnerable skin. “Hm, baby?”

“Y - yes!” you moan wantonly loud as your weight sags into his embrace. “Always.”

“Good—” His hands cinch on your flanks and abruptly hoist you up: prompting you to wrap your legs around his waist and your arms to encircle around his neck. “—cause holding back with you is gonna be impossible.”

With your body clutched  around his abdomen, he heads for the closest empty room, scoped out via his enhanced hearing. Unceremoniously, he turns a handle and breaks the lock of the unused office space; two doors down from the main room, it’s smaller but it has a sturdy-looking desk in the center.

He kicks the door shut and sets you down as your lips find his. Although you’re sat down, legs dangling over the wooden edge, you keep your elbows hooked around the nape of his neck and coax a ragged groan out of his chest with the deft stroke of your tongue. 

“Shit, baby,” he breathes and parts from you in order to yank your jacket down your shoulders. Tossing it off the side, he reveals a braless tank top and your nipples he can see have pebbled underneath. His imagination takes off once more, envisioning what the already perfect twins will look like in the wake of his seed taking root inside you.

His blood pumps viciously, flowing downward and flooding his cock to strain beneath the oppressive stealth-suit fabric. Like you’re reading his mind, you unhook the utility belt and similarly shove it off somewhere on the side.

Something rustles, and it’s the condom you’d thrown at him. Absentmindedly tucked under the cinch of the belt previously, it falls into your undressing hands. Your eyes rivet up to him, lashes fluttering big, as you hold it between two fingers: halfway offering. “What are you gonna do, daddy?” 

At that particular moment, it occurs to him that you’re doubting his seriousness. While abundantly clear you want this, you’re dubious on whether he’s going through it. Which is preposterous, but he figures that the look on your face when he spills inside you bareback will only further his orgasm, consequently heightening the odds of his end-goal. 

He plucks the packaging from of your grip, holds it up as your gazes clash and makes a show out of discarding it out of reach. Then he seizes your knees and slides your ass to the edge so your center is flushed against him, rocking into his hardened imprint.

“You,” he answers your query, tone a growl, as he peels your jeans off. He continues on just to shred your panties. “I’m doing you. With nothing to separate me from you, nothing to keep you from your rightful destiny: knocked up with our baby.”

“Please,” is all you utter, but the room’s thick with sensory evidence of your essence. 

Spreading your thighs as far as possible, he glances down to spit lewdly on your glistening mound; a long dribble of saliva coating your eager button and slit. He uses his thumb to smear it all over, mixing with the puddle you’re creating, dipping into your sticky folds with his middle finger. 

The whole time, you’re choking with these hungry and appreciative little noises. Likewise, you’re watching as he prepares you thoroughly and roughly to wring the cum out of him. “S - Steve,” you mewl coherently and buck into his messy caress. Your fingers are tugging pleading on the lower half of his uniform. “I need you. Please!” 

It is about damn time. 

His control has been witting away since the first time you called him daddy. He swiftly wrenches the suit down and exposes his leaking, throbbing cock to your tunnel of relief. His size always dwarfs your kempt triangle; an initial observation one might come to is the improbability he won’t fit. But he does, every single time, and in this special instance, he’s going to ensure all of his formidable length is buried in your fertile heat.         

He rasps his tip over your clit, plastering his translucent white pre-cum over the engorged nub, then traces down the crease of your slit. As he prods in, his hands span your thighs and  help open up your elastic entrance for his  ravenous cock. He stretches your tightness slow but unyieldingly while you both watch with labored breathing, transfixed by the sight of your dripping core enveloping his veined and tanned angry stalk until he’s nudging your cervix.

“Good girl,” he grits out, strangled by the electricity prickling his nerves.  He slips support underneath your ass, intertwining from the inner to the outer so when he hauls you up, your knees are bent over his elbows. “You ready to make me a daddy, baby?”

“Yes!” You nod quickly with a moan. “Shit, you’re big—and deep. Really fucking deep.”

He chuckles huskily because if you think that now, he can’t wait to see you once he’s truly plundered new depths. “Now, you just hold on tight and let me do all the work. I only want you to focus on givin’ me a baby, okay?”

In the middle of an abandoned office room—possibly a storage area—he heaves you up and drops you back down. Your arms curl around his neck, hands twisting into his suit, while he alters between gravity and his hips jutting forth to drill inside you.   

Without any mind to those around you—just you and him—he fucks you with every ounce of strength coiled into his super-charged build. Ignoring the fact that door is unlocked, broken more specifically, and the possibility that there’s likely high quality surveillance cameras watching, your shared sounds of carnality fills the room in between the harsh collision of skin. 

Each propelling thrust seems to jostle further than further, carving himself into your inner walls. Like he said before, he handles all the work, effortlessly bouncing your sporadically clenching channel with his inhuman strength and stamina; leaving you to accept and bask in the stimulation his cock is providing and the gift he’ll be depositing inside of you any time now. 

Your lips are breathless in his ear, gasping, “Daddy, please,” that has him climbing the rope faster. The beg pours gasoline on an already roaring fire, igniting wildly to burn up his legs then his stomach and on its way to take him under.

“Y’gonna make me a daddy, baby? You’re gonna be a pretty lil’ mommy and take care of us? Is that what you want?” he croons, identifying the way you tighten as your steadily approaching orgasm. “Y’gonna have your pretty pussy squeeze me until I’m shooting my load and knocking you up?” 

He’s pretty sure your nails have punctured the suit’s resilient material. “S - Steve, fuck! Please. Yes! Cum inside me—cum inside me—“ you cry out with genuine desperation that his limbs tingling numbly. “I want it. I want you. Please. I wanna feel you!” 

His jaw locks and works you somehow even harder. The room is completely engulfed with you, your arousal, the potency of your ovulation, and your future with him; once he releases, it’ll only seal the fact that you’re his and belong to him (as well as vice versa). 

“Who’s gonna be a daddy, baby? Who are you making a daddy, baby?” His words are practically slurred while fever coalesces across his entirety. “Who owns your pretty little pussy and your womb?” 

“You—Steve—daddy,” you sob as your orgasm  seizes up around his cock, giving him no other choice other than to: “Cum inside me, daddy—!” 

Something beastly rips out of his chest, and without protest, he gifts you exactly what you want. He burrows into the absolute hilt and fires inside you for what feels like forever. Spurts of ooze finally wane, nudging your fruitful cervix, but even then, he doesn’t dare retreat from your heavenly depths. 

The aftershocks force him to set you back down on the desk, still buried and keeping you stuffed. His face nuzzles the junction between your neck and shoulder languorously,  and you lazily run your fingers through his hair, walls periodically pulsating. 

When he regains the energy, he straightens and pulls out of you until his bulbous head is blocking your entrance; he stops there because he realizes something. “It’s gonna leak, and as hot as that is, I need to keep you full, baby.” Abruptly, he hauls you up and shuffles the position so that he’s sitting on the desk, and you’re sitting on his cock.

Your sensitivity flares around him, and you squeal. “F - fuck!” But you adjust to comfortability, blinking at him. “For how long?” 

A smile curls into his lips, and he strokes your cheek while his other hand lays on your belly. “For as long as it takes.”

[masterlist / feedback]

#steve rogers x you smut #steve rogers imagines #steve x reader #captain america x reader #steve rogers smut #marvel reader insert #marvel smut imagines #my writing #marvel imagines #my fics #mANY ERRORS

[hyunsracha]

for your entertainment — han jisung

word count: 2.3k

summary: jisung panics when he sees cute people. he also stares at them.

so you work at an entertainment store right

where ppl can buy like uhhh movies and albums n merch n stuff!!

u like ur job.. it’s one of the least popular stores in the mall so u spend most of ur time organizing and reorganizing with one earbud in listening to music

u have to wear a boring grey t-shirt as uniform so u spice things up by making the rest of u look good

everyone else does the same thing i mean … ur manager lia wears purple eyeshadow ok

ur other manager chris doesn’t even try to look good! and it’s so fucking annoying u wanna knock his fuck 24/7

random girl: hehe<3 can i have ur number?

chris: only if u sign up for our rewards program<3

u, angry bc u haven’t sold any rewards programs in a week: >:(

ur other two co-workers are hyunjin and jeongin.

hyunjin has a pretty popular youtube dancer cover channel, but for Copyright Reasons it’s not paying the bills

and jeongin is a senior in high school and this is his first job and u just wanna pinch his little cheeks every time u work together

“y/n i swear to god i’m gonna punch u and get fired rn stop POKING MY CHEEKS-”

“he’s just a little baby…*to passing customer* LOOK AT THE BABY!”

“>:(((“

so it’s a tuesday night.

tuesday nights are the fucking best (worst if u love talking to ppl) bc u’ll get like … 2 customers in 4 hours?

it’s 8pm and the mall closes at 9

usually u start vacuuming at 8:30 but at like 7:50 chris was like “GET THE FUCKING VACUUM WE’RE CLOSING RN !!”

jeongin: u do it.

u: no u do it bitch.

jeongin: *sticks out his fist*

u sigh and do rock paper scissors like the baby wants.

and u lose

u fucking lose

and jeongin just cackles, sitting down on the stool behind the registers

so u trudge to the back room and the vacuum, grumbling about how ur older so jeongin should be doing this!!

but it’s fine!

so you’re vacuuming right.

and in storms Han Jisung

yes han jisung is the kinda dude to come to the mall right before closing and go on a shopping spree

he’s got his best friend lee minho in tow, who does Not look happy to be here.

“come on minho!! i need to get season 4 of naruto to finish my collection!!” jisung whines, pulling on his friend’s arm as he stands on his tiptoes to look for the anime section.

“can you keep your voice down?? i have an image, yanno.”

“minho you’re literally here to buy a kelly clarkson album.”

minho grumbles and waddles off towards the cds, where you are...vacuuming...loudly

and minho’s like -____- why are u so fucking loud

like u don’t MEAN to be loud?? but it’s a VACUUM??

so minho’s looking for his beloved kelly clarkson album right,

and jisung comes around the corner, season 4 of naruto in tow.

and he sees you

and nearly drops it

jisung gets crushes very easily okay..

he can’t help it! the boy loves to love (◕‿◕)♡

and u look so cute in ur lil t-shirt!! like a little retail angel!!

so he grabs minho’s arm and DRAGS HIM TO where the movies are

and he panics!

“THEY’RE SO CUTE AAH I WANNA GIVE THEM A BIG FAT HUG-”

“do you mean the person vacuuming -__- loud as hell”

“minho it’s a vacuum.”

so you stop vacuuming and return the vacuum to the back room (and wash ur hands in the bathroom bc the soap smells like lemons and sunshine) and come back to the floor

u have a ton of time until closing so u just. sit.. and start reorganizing the heavy metal albums.

after a while u feel … weird … like ur being watched

so u turn around and. there they are. staring like (・_・)

and ur like “HELLO?!?!” but u don’t say anything

u just give them a Customer Service Smile and a, “can i help you with anything?”

jisung just giggles and shakes his head and minho keeps fuckign staring

mr lee i will knock ur fuck is that what u want

so u shrug and go back to ur sorting, keeping an eye on the CREEPS in ur store.

at 8:55 chris is like “jeongin go close the gate.” n jeongin’s like “FUCK YEAH” bc he gets to hold a big stick

so he’s walking towards the front of the store with his Big Stick when he sees jisung and minho

“what da hell are y’all doing?” is what he thinks but he says, “(: hi! the store closes in five minutes and i’m about to close the front gate. i’m so sorry, but you have to leave now! :)”

so jisung pouts and minho rolls his eyes, dragging his friend out of the store.

jeongin uses his Big Stick to pull the gate down and he locks it at about mid calf level so y’all can get out.

so that night, u go home and do some homework, but ur still thinking about those weirdos.

but! u’ll probably never see them again!

right?

Wrong.

u see them the next day!

they’re still watching u, but they’re closer

and minho looks more irritated.

towards the end of the night, ur Upset and Confused so u go over to them like o_o. What do u want.

and jisung goes JISJSJHTIE

and minho goes, “jisung thinks you’re cute.”

u start to blush, but jisung squeaks, “NO ahah- uh- he likes to talk in third person! he’s jisung ahaha.”

“my name is not jisung i would Hate to be named jisung.”

“WH- why? there’s a soccer player named jisung. and an idol! multiple idols!”

“yeah the guy in nct is 2 years younger than you and has the same name. and what have You done successfully? Quickly-”

“HEY-”

the two boys in front of u bicker while u start zoning out at the wall behind them.

you knew that the boy with blue hair was jisung, but you didn’t know the one with brown hair. and you assumed that they were friends, judging by the .. bonding activity that is staring at an employee.

and jisung wasn’t …. ugly

like he was really … really cute

but staring at people is fucking weird, jisung!!

when u finally snap out of it, u huff, “okay losers. we are closing soon. so you have to leave. but you’re welcome to come back tomorrow if you’re going to actually talk to me and not just stand in the corner! okay?”

the boys nod, grinning at each other before dashing out of the store.

so, like u said, they’re back the next day!

and this time they actually talk to u! Wow!

you’re sitting on the floor in the back of the store, organizing the funko pops for the 70th time when you feel A Presence.

two, actually.

it’s the two boys, sitting on either side of u.

“hi,” jisung says, playing with his fingers in his lap.

“you’re jisung, right? the cute one..” u reply absentmindedly

u hear a choking sound and then Silence

miss jisung ? miss JISUNG ?

he’s alive, but jfc BARELY

u just called him the CUTE ONE?!?!?

paying no mind, u turn to the boy on ur right, “and you are?”

“lee minho. don’t worry, you won’t forget it.”

“was that supposed to be a pick-up line?”

“did it work?”

“no.”

“HAH!” and jisung’s alive again.

u spend the rest of ur shift talking to the boys, telling them all about ur life while they told u about theirs

u learned that minho was a dancer just like hyunjin! but he went to the nearby university to study.

and that’s where he met jisung, who’s a music composition major

...and a soundcloud rapper…

u could help the laugh that pushed past ur lips at his words

“WHY ARE U LAUGHING.”

“a SoundCloud rapper. really, sung?”

“IT’S COOL ヾ(`ヘ´)ﾉﾞ”

u couldn’t imagine him as a ‘cool’ rapper dude

he just looked so fluffy :(

at 8:55, the boys got kicked out by jeongin again, but they stood outside the gate, waiting for u

“What do y’all want.”

“i wanna walk u to ur car:(“

“i don’t.”

“ok minho then Leave.”

“NO DON’T he’s my ride don’t say that to him.”

it’s dark outside, and a warm wind blows through ur hair.

it’s late spring, with summer (and finals) fast approaching.

“walking me to my car...what a gentleman…”

“yeah that’s why you should totally go on a date with me haha.”

“what?”

“what?”

“you said-”

“i didn’t say anything.”

minho sighs from behind u, not understanding why his best friend has to be so damn stupid all the time

u lean on ur driver’s side door, not making eye contact with the boy

u didn’t know how to say bye..no one’s ever walked u to ur car before??

“so…” jisung speaks for u, “can i … have your number? so i don’t show up at the store when you’re not working.” he holds his phone out for u to take, a sheepish smile barely visible due to the lights in the parking lot.

“oh! totally.” you take the phone from him, jolting when ur fingers graze his. u set ur contact as ‘the person sungie likes to stare at~” before giving it back to him.

he chuckles at the name, and u feel something inside of u go DOKIDOKI

when he says goodnight and walks away, minho giving u a quick nod, u lock urself in ur car so u can PANIC

u barely know this boy. he’s a weirdo. why is ur heart going dokidoki

heart STOP IT!!

it only gets worse when u hear the text notification sound from ur phone:

[ unknown ]: do u work tmrw? (^_−)☆ i already miss u

…. frick …. he texts cute

dammit jisung why couldn’t u send the laughing emoji

[ y/n ]: i do ! ^.^ i’ll see u then?

[ creeper ]: wouldn’t miss it~ (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧ goodnight!

u nearly slam ur head on the steering wheel.

true to his word, jisung was back the next day

and the day after that

and the day after that

the day after That, u were off, so u didn’t see him

but u guys texted nearly all day!

jisung was just … really easy to talk to :/

and really funny :/

and every time he giggled u just wanted to cry a little bit :/

and u feel like a CLOWN bc u have a CRUSH on this dude that hangs out with u at WORK

one day, ur at work, and jisung isn't there:((

u feel a little dumb being upset about it, but u were starting to get used to the little guy

“somebody looks like a sad clown.”

“hyunjin~” u whine.

“oh no. that’s the boy problems whine. uhhh suddenly i’m on break!” he tries to stand and walk away, but u pull him back down next to u.

see, u and hyunjin were pretty close.

u two are the same age and watch the same dramas.

and ur both super dramatic

which is WHY when u got ur heart broken by lee donghyuck a few months after u started working there, he was ur shoulder to cry - and complain - on.

“stop :( there was this boy who came in every day and talked to me and he’s super cute but he’s not here today and i miss him :(“

hyunjin just …. stared at u like …. wtf are u talking about

“do you have his number?”

“yes.”

“have you texted him to ask why he’s not here today?”

“...no…”

“(；￣Д￣) Y/N U FUCKIN FOOL!!! U ABSOLUTE IMBECILE!!!”

“STOP YELLING AT ME HWANG HYUNJIN I’LL DESTROY EVERYTHING YOU LOVE!”

a customer standing in front of the register, trying to buy some headphones: uh.. should i go?

u make hyunjin deal with the customer while u sneak out ur phone to text jisung

[ y/n ]: where are u . no one is here 2 annoy me today (except hyunjin but he doesn’t count)

u wait 5 minutes … no reply

10 minutes … no reply

an hour … no reply

“WAAAAA ｡･ﾟﾟ*(>д<)*ﾟﾟ･｡ HYUNJIN ｡･ﾟﾟ*(>д<)*ﾟﾟ･｡”

hyunjin, handing a poor lady her receipt: jesus fucking christ

ur sulking as u leave the store that night

u still feel dumb, but now ur too Sad to feel dumb

u press the lock button on ur car keys so the lights would come on and the horn would sound, telling u where ur car was

“OH FUCK- jesus...stupid car…”

….that’s not what ur car horn sounds like.

u slowly approach, holding ur keys in between ur fingers

ur not afraid to stab a bitch with ur mail key and that’s on wolverine.

u breathe a sigh of Relief when u see it’s just jisung leaning against ur door

wait

jisung

“jisung?” u voice ur thoughts

his hand comes up to rub the back of his neck, “yeah..hi..sorry i didn’t text you back. i nearly backed out of doing this and i didn’t wanna look stupid.”

“you look stupid all the time.”

“jeez, thanks.”

u cross ur arms, stepping closer to the boy, “back out of what?”

“well i uh- do you remember how minho said i think you’re cute on the first day we talked?”

you nod.

“well...that hasn’t changed. i think you’re cute...really cute, actually.”

you blush again, just like the first time, “what does me being cute have to do with you standing in front of my car?”

“well, i don’t have a car, so i’m hoping...you can drive when we go on our first date?”

your heart nearly stops, but you start to smile.

“han jisung, are you asking me out?”

“are you saying yes?”

“yes.”

“then yeah. i am.”

your smile only gets wider as you close the gap between you two, wrapping your arms around his middle. he pats your head, a chuckle vibrating under your ear.

“also i need a ride home. minho dropped me off.”

“*sigh* jisung…”

#jisung #han jisung #han #stray kids #skz #jisung scenarios #han jisung scenarios #han scenarios #stray kids scenarios #skz scenarios #jisung imagines #han jisung imagines #han imagines #stray kids imagines #skz imagines #stray kids jisung #skz jisung #skz han #jisung x reader #han jisung x reader #han x reader #stray kids x reader #skz x reader

[jenn-i-guess]

Kiribaku Childhood Friends AU: Chapter Three

Fuck...

Fuck!

Katsuki glared down at his dirty shoes, the tips scuffed with dirt and dark marks.

“I’ve contacted your mother, Midoriya. She’ll be here soon so you can go ahead and wait outside.” The headmaster spoke calmly, watching as the curly-haired male nervously stood up from the chair just next to Bakugou’s before walking out.

He was limping on one leg, courtesy of Katsuki. It made him look much more weaker, but no! Goddammit, he was not gonna feel bad for that quirkless nerd.

“Bakugou.” The headmaster caught his attention, staring down sternly at him from the desk. “We’ve had this discussion before.”

Yeah. Of course they did.

Bakugou has had his fair share of scraps before but this one has turned out much different.

It wasn’t his fucking fault! If that damned Deku hadn’t gotten in his way. If he’d just leave him alone!

“We’ve told you time and time again, fighting is not allowed. Whatever you and Midoriya have needs to be figured out without fighting. Do you understand?”

Bakugou didn’t answer, staring down and twitching his fingers together.

Sighing, the headmaster leaned over to pick up the phone, “I’ll contact your parents about this...situation, but you need to wait outside for her, okay?”

Without speaking, he stood up and walked out, fuming in his footsteps as he heard the headmaster dial the number for his mother’s phone.

It was raining as he opened the doors, his usually spiky blonde hair flattening down with the rainwater. Bakugou groaned and used his backpack as cover, holding it over his head and running away from the school.

His feet slammed down in the wet concrete as he pulled himself forward.

He had to go somewhere. Somewhere else. Somewhere away from this place.

When his feet finally gave out, he found himself surrounded by empty stalls. There were food stalls, toys, art, and many other small stands that were closed, drenched in water.

His throat ached as he panted, dryer than a desert, and he stumbled under an open umbrella, shivering in the rain.

As Bakugou pulled out his phone from his backpack, he groaned in frustration as it wouldn’t turn on.

It was dead.

Shoving his cellular device back in his bag, he slammed his head down on the table, his palms tingling in anger.

“Katsuki?”

A voice slipped him out of his daze. Bakugou whipped his head up, his face softening when he saw who it was.

“Ei?”

Kirishima stood before him in his school uniform, holding a red umbrella over him. “Hey! What’re you doing here?” He asked, coming closer to Bakugou’s soaked figure.

He sat up and shrugged his shoulders defensively, watching as Kiri’s eyes raked over his shivering body.

There was an awkward silence before Eijirou sighed and held his hand out to Bakugou, “Wanna come with me? You’re getting pretty wet.” He chuckled.

Bakugou shrugged his shoulders again, waiting for Kirishima to move.

“Well, you’re being very talkative today.” Eijirou held the umbrella over both of their heads, walking very slowly so that Katsuki wouldn’t get anymore wet than he already was.

————

As they kept walking, Eijirou stopped in front of a library, getting a weird look from Bakugou.

“What? I just gotta get a book.” He shrugged, opening the doors as he closed his umbrella, shaking out the water droplets.

Bakugou hummed as he walked in, immediately feeling the heat around him soak into his wet clothes.

The library was mostly empty, except for a few older people behind the computers, and the few employees behind the front counter. As they walked in, the two workers in the front nodded at them.

“Ahh, it’s so warm in here!” Kirishima whispered loudly, rubbing his cold hands together.

He stopped in front of the small manga section by the printers.

“I thought you said you needed to get something.” Bakugou groaned, already beginning to get annoyed.

“And I thought you were suppose to be at school.” Eijirou smiled teasingly, pulling off one of the comic books.

He huffed, “I was.”

“And now you’re not? You didn’t get into trouble again, did you?” Kirishima as worryingly, pinching his eyebrows together.

“Why does it fuckin matter!” He yelled, catching a few stares from the people over by the computers. “Why do you care so much?” He hissed quieter now.

Kirishima frowned, pouting slightly, “Well, cause you were in the rain by yourself. Away...from your school.”

“Yeah? Well I don’t want to fuckin talk about it.” Bakugou whispered angrily, storming away and leaving his friend behind.

He didn’t walk completely out of the library though, he only went towards another section. Bakugou felt guilty leaving him behind, but he soon got preoccupied by the books he was around.

They weren’t comic books like Kirishima was looking at, but instead they were autobiographies. About heroes.

Of course there were tons about All Might, but there were also a few other ones as well.

Endeavor, Ms. Midnight, and even a few about Crimson Riot. Picking one up, he fell to the floor and began to reading, trying to get his mind off of his furious thoughts.

A few minutes passed before he saw a shadow fall over him, and someone sitting in front of him.

It was Kirishima.

In his lap he had a few thin manga books, rubbing the pads of his fingers nervously.

“Hey.” He spoke anxiously, turning his lips up into a wobbly smile, “Are you okay?”

Bakugou let out a frustrating sigh, trying not to get angry again at Eijirou. “Yeah, ‘m fine.” He grunted.

Kirishima didn’t look convinced. However, he did give him a more confident smile, pushing his long black hair back.

“Anyways, how was your day?” He asked nonchalantly, still wanting to get some sort of an answer out of his explosive friend.

Bakugou hummed, shrugging again, “Mm. Got into a fight.” He admitted, frowning down at the floor.

Kirishima looked up in alarm, “You did? Katsuki...” he trailed off, starting to act like a scolding parent.

“I didn’t mean to! That asshole was just annoying me.” He wouldn’t tell Kirishima about Deku. He couldn’t.

He didn’t want to lose another friend.

“Okay...are you supposed to be at school?”

Bakugou sucked a breath through his clenched teeth, “Fuck that. I’m not going back.”

Eijirou chuckled, “I know you don’t want to go back, but are you supposed to?”

There was silence as Bakugou uncomfortably shifted away from Kirishima’s puppy eyes. He couldn’t stay silent for long though.

“My mom’s supposed to pick me up.”

“Huh?! How is she gonna pick you up if you’re not there?” Kirishima freaked out, staring at Katsuki urgently.

Bakugou groaned for what seemed like the seventh time that day and rolled his eyes, “Because I wanted to be alone! I didn’t want to talk to her.”

Eijirou stared at him, mouth agape before the color of his skin paled. “O-Oh! I’m sorry for bothering you.” He shuffled as if he was about to stand up and leave, before Katsuki grabbed his wrist tightly.

“I said wanted! I don’t want you to leave now!” He demanded further, the apples of his cheeks blushing lightly.

Eijirou’s cheeks turned red as well, goosebumps pressing up from the area of skin that Katsuki had his hand around. “Oh. Oh! Okay okay! Um, sorry.” He sat back down.

He cleared his throat, staring at Katsuki’s crimson red eyes. “Um, anyways I’m done here-” he gestured to his comic books, “Wanna get going?”

Bakugou stood up, holding his hand down for Eijirou to take, which he did willingly, his cheeks still flushing a pretty pink.

As they walked hand in hand, they looked up at the sky in surprise when the rain was gone, but both flinched at the same time when a loud noise pulled them away.

“Katsuki Bakugou!” Mitsuki yelled from a car parked in front of the library.

Bakugou winced.

Oh shit.

#kiribaku #bakushima #bnha #my hero academia #mha #bakugo katsuki #bnha fanfic #anime fanfic #boku no hero academia #boku no here academia #katsuki bakugou #kirishima eijirou #eijirou kirishima #kiribaku childhood friends au #kiribaku fanfiction #kiribaku fanfic

[sunshine-shitposts]

Twenty Second

Sunnie takes Dio out to dinner, unusually happy for some reason, and they enjoy good food together. Pure fluff.

TW: some drankin

=

Nights in the suite were usually lazy, with Sunnie either gaming or watching movies with Dio. He enjoyed their time together, and watching her slowly open up was quite rewarding.

Tonight, however, she was in her room.

He didn't question it as he read a particularly interesting book Sunnie had given him: The Elegant Universe, which discussed something called string theory. It was incredibly well-written, and he was about to turn another page when he heard her hum brightly as she opened and shut her bedroom door. She began walking down the hallway, some nonsense tune she'd invariably made up floating through the air.

She sounded like she was in a good mood.

She then stood in front of him, grinning widely and twirling the blue carabiner that she had her keys on with her finger, her other hand fisted on her hip.

"I'm in a good mood!" Sunnie said happily.

Ah, so she was.

"So," she continued, bouncing on her heels, "You should get dressed. We're going to my favorite sushi place."

"We are?" He asked, an eyebrow quirked upwards.

She nodded. "We are!"

And that was how Dio, dressed in a soft black button-up shirt (the first few buttons undone, of course), black slacks, and some new shiny shoes he'd purchased, was in the shotgun seat in Sunnie's oddly spacious little blue car.

The music in the car, in contrast with the heavy rock music he'd heard her playing in her room from time to time, was bright—some infectious dance tune that had her head bobbing and body swaying in time with the beat as she drove, smiling excitedly as she softly chanted "soosh, soosh, soosh" at various intervals. Dio wondered what exactly it was that had made her so happy, but chuckled amusedly as she bounced in her seat and pulled off onto a ramp heading north, and the music changed to something lower tempo, but still electronic. She hummed along with it, and a little while into the song, she began to giggle.

"Aaaaaah, here it comes, here it comes!!" She wiggled, and began singing with the music, "I promise to build a new world for us twoooo, with youuuu in the middle…"

And then the song exploded into bright, excited pulsing and drums, and she danced in her seat accordingly, grinning widely the entire time. He was impressed with her apparent skill at seat dancing while driving, he had to admit, but seeing her express her happiness so openly and so genuinely brought a smile to his face as well.

Fifteen minutes later or so, she'd pulled off the highway and onto a street that led them to what appeared to be a group of stores that were predominantly Asian, with a large grocery store that seemed Asian in nature as well. There were at least two dim sum restaurants that he could see, what looked like a small Korean bank, among other things like salons and cell phone stores. Sunnie took a left and drove to the outer section of the shops and neatly parked the car.

"We're here!" She chirped, shutting the car off and unbuckling herself, getting out of the car.

"A nice and easy drive," Dio remarked, exiting the car as well.

"Ever been to a revolving sushi place before?" She asked, shutting her car door.

Dio followed her as she trotted excitedly across the parking lot and through the light autumn rain to a door beneath a lit sign that said 'Kitsune' with a cute brushstroke fox next to it. "I have not, little bird," he hummed, "What's the occasion, if I may ask?"

"Oh, I got the courage to shut Vinh out of my bank account today," she laughed, face absolutely beaming, "so the meal's on me!"

He looked at her with a sly smile on his face. Good for her.

They reached the door, which Sunnie pushed open and they walked through, but not before Dio caught various people who were milling about in front of the stores and restaurants gawking at him–good, he always did love a little ego boost. The young man in all black at the front welcomed them and Sunnie happily gave her name ("Green, party of two, booth reservation!") and an employee came up to receive them and guide them through the restaurant.

It was dimly, yet warmly lit, the wood stained beautifully and the seats padded with dark leather, and, to his mild surprise, a winding conveyor belt throughout the main room. On the belt, plates with sushi covered by clear domes snaked their way around the room at a casual pace. Most of the seats were bar-style, but Dio saw, as they walked, several booth tables tucked away towards what seemed to be the beginning of the conveyor line.

The waitress sat them down at one of the booths and placed two drink menus on the table.

"Hi there, m'names Marissa, and I'll be helpin' you tonight!" She said in a sugary sweet voice, "Have y'all been here before?"

"I have," Sunnie smiled back as Dio inspected the moving plates with interest, "I'll explain it to him."

The waitress nodded. "I'll be back in a second for your drink orders!"

As she turned and left, Sunnie patted the table happily, turning his attention from the plates making their way past them to the small woman across from him. "So! Figure out what you wanna drink–"

"I already know what I want, my dear. Explain to me how this," he pointed his clawed finger up and twirled it around in a few circles, "works."

"Oh! Well, here's the revolving part of 'revolving sushi'," she said, gesturing to the moving sushi plates, "They're under these domes, see, but all you gotta do is grab the plate right here, under this little spot–" she reached up and grabbed a plate with her thumb under a semi-circle cutout on the dome, and the dome easily lifted up and she pulled the plate away and to the table, sliding it to Dio. "When we're done with it, we slide it into this spot down here," she pointed at a slot at the base of where the table met the wall, "and it tallies up the cost based on the number of plates. Simple?"

"Delightfully so," he responded, taking a pair of chopsticks out of their paper packaging, "Do you want one of these…" he looked down at the sushi in front of him and tilted his head.

"Kappamaki," Sunnie told him, getting her own chopsticks as well, "It's just a cucumber roll, nice and refreshing. But you can have those, I have a little ritual to carry out first…" she sat up on her knees and looked at a touch screen, scrolling through options and making a selection, "I always start out with niku udon. You make the selection on here and it comes to you on the linear conveyor belt above the sushi one. They have things like karaage, ramen, and you can also order specific sushi if they keep vanishing by the time they get to you, but since we're near the front of the line, that won't be a problem."

Dio picked up his first piece of kappamaki and popped it in his mouth, the bright crunch of the cucumber just as refreshing as Sunnie had said it would be.

"Is it good?" She asked, eyes sparkling, and he nodded.

"It is indeed," he responded, reaching for a shallow dish and pouring some soy sauce for himself, "If all of the choices are of this quality, tonight will surely be a feast."

Sunnie laughed. "No worries there, big guy, they're all really good, from what I know."

Marissa came back around and took their drink orders—Sunnie ordered a lemonade, and Dio opted for 'an entire bottle of your most expensive sake', and when Sunnie shot him a glare, he added sweetly, 'to celebrate'—and by the time their drinks arrived, Sunnie's niku udon had zoomed towards them on the linear conveyor belt. It was in a smallish stoneware bowl with handles and a second bowl on top, which she unclipped and removed to reveal a savory-looking broth filled with thick noodles, thinly sliced beef, scallions, and what Sunnie said was a 'kamaboko slice'. Dio smiled as she said an excited, "jaa, itadakima～su!" and immediately began digging into her dish, and he poured himself his first glass.

"So," Dio asked, sipping the sake, "Is this a date?"

She choked a bit on her udon, and he laughed as she swallowed, her face red and brows furrowed.

"Asshole!!!" She gestured accusingly at him with her chopsticks, "That noodle nearly went up my nose! Fuck you!!"

"You can take your time answering, dear, I don't mind."

"It's not that!! It's—you say things that throw me off!!"

He grinned smugly. "I do?"

She slammed her elbow on the table and pointed right at him, rising on her knees to stare him down closer. "Don't be a little shit. You know you do," she growled, narrowing her eyes at him.

His grin only widened, and his canines glinted in the low light.

"See??" She slapped the table, pointing again with eyes burning just as bright as her blush, "See??? You DO know!!!"

Dio laughed again, eating the second piece of kappamaki. "I do."

Sunnie sat back in her seat, leveling him with an intense glare before slurping down more udon and tearing almost viciously into a piece of beef, grumbling to herself.

"...So, is it a date or not?"

"No!!"

"If you say so."

"It's just to celebrate, and you're my friend. So I brought you," she stated, slurping up more noodles.

"Why not ask your other friends? You've said that you miss them," he asked, not taking his eyes off her as he pulled another plate of sushi without even glancing at the type.

Sunnie paused, brows furrowing in thought. "It's… I mean, it's just that you're basically the first person I can really share my whole life with." He raised an eyebrow, smirking, and she flushed again. "Not like that, Dio. Like… you know what's going on in my life. A lot of them don't, because I don't want to involve them. I don't have to hide that from you."

"You don't have to hide anything from me, Sunshine. Not your scars, not your bruises, not your Stand," he said softly, "Though at this point, I feel like it's in your nature to hide."

She stared at him blankly, tapping the end of her chopsticks on the table for a few seconds before breathing in, looking at her bowl, and slowly breathing out. "...You're not wrong." She slurped up the last noodles in her bowl, picking it up and draining the broth. "I've had to hide parts of myself my entire life. You know, 'don't tell people about what you can do, Sunnie. They wouldn't understand. People might try to hurt you'—remember, we're in the south. I'm not sure how much you know about things down here, but we've got an oddly high number of megachurches, especially in this area. There are plenty of people out there who, if they knew, would probably want to try to exorcise me. Not to mention, my parents worked for years to be able to adopt me. I overheard them a few times; they were scared I'd be taken by like, the government or something. I couldn't put them through something like that."

Dio watched her like a hawk as she reached up and grabbed a plate of three pieces of sushi before they passed by. "I didn't grow up with a Stand, actually," he said, pouring a little more sake into his cup, "I've never considered the implications of having such abilities from birth. It must have been hard to navigate, as a child."

Sunnie shifted in her seat, popping a piece of nigiri in her mouth and chewing for a moment before swallowing. "I mean, yeah, sort of. When you're a kid, imaginary friends aren't that weird, and the shit you say gets written off as you being over-imaginative. I only started understanding Windy's power and that no one else could actually see her when I was like, four, and by the time I was five, I knew to keep her hush-hush. I felt like a freak. Like in some way, I could never truly get to know anybody." After taking a long sip of lemonade, she sighed. "It's kind of alienating, y'know. There was always something that I would know but I couldn't say. I couldn't really be honest with my classmates."

"Was keeping such a big secret from them difficult for you?"

She shrugged. "I read a lot of comic books as a kid. Superheroes and stuff, y'know? And a lot of them had to keep secrets too. I always thought Superman's design was a bit basic, but I figured that if a country bumpkin journalist nerd could grow up without people knowing he could fly and shoot lasers from his eyes, I could do it too, so to speak."

He figured that made sense. As they took a few minutes to eat, he found himself looking back up at her over and over, before another question made its way out of his mouth before he could stop it.

"So," he broke the silence, an interested twinkle in his eye, "Tell me, aside from your spectacular secret keeping, how did you handle being a child with superhuman abilities?"

Sunnie, who was sipping her lemonade from a straw, nearly choked on her drink with snorting laughter. "Fuck, dude are you kidding? I was a menace!!" She grinned widely, snickering to herself. "So I have these family members, right? They call themselves Catholic, but they're this… like, really extreme…? I don't know how to describe it, but fuck I hate them. Except for one, she's kinda crazy in a good way. Anyways, so like," she settled back in her seat, absolutely beaming as she recalled the past events, "Carrie Anne, who's like my dad's cousin or something, she likes to pinch your cheeks and baby talk you and be weird and shit, so one time when we were staying over at their place when I was, like, six, I had Windy start to move things here and there. Small but noticeable, you know? A picture frame turned backwards, some flowers on the other side of the table. It drove her nuts. She rushed us out and cut the reunion short so she could try to get an exorcism or something."

Dio let loose a deep laugh. "Was it just them that you bothered?"

"Fuck no! Imagine, you're a wild child with the ability to not only control wind, but to also pull the sickest pranks of all time. That's exactly what you gotta do!" Her eyes sparkled mischievously. "At that point, it's an obligation. Rolling pencils off desks, tripping people I didn't like, just small little ways to make things fun and amusing for myself."

He leaned forward, placing his elbows on the table and resting his chin on the top of his interlocked fingers. "Just small?"

"I mean, I did lose control a couple of times. Once when I was in second grade, some third graders made fun of one of my friends, so I climbed on top of the giant cement tube on the playground and waited to ambush them when they walked through it. We got into a fight, three guys against me, and after scrapping a bit with them, I blew them all off of me when the teachers ran up to separate us. It wasn't that bad, but it just sort of… happened."

"Heat of the moment?"

"Yeah." She ate another piece of sushi, chewing it thoughtfully before swallowing. "No one got hurt. Well, besides their pride. A girl a whole year younger than them took them all on. It was the talk of our grades for like a week. They didn't talk shit after that, though." She looked at him curiously, her head tilting to the side. "I know you're like, evil vampire man and all, but have you ever done anything dumb with The World?"

He hummed, eyes narrowing mirthfully as he took another sip of sake. "I once scared a French man shitless by repeatedly moving him down the stairs in stopped time when he'd try to ascend."

She barked out a laugh. "No one should hold that against you. He was French."

Dio chuckled, shaking his head.

The rest of the dinner was spent with good food and good company. Finally feeling full, Sunnie chose plain cheesecake as a dessert, and Dio indulged in some as well, at his companion's insistence. After the bill was paid (Sunnie's eyes bugging when she saw the price of the sake, then sighing and telling him 'You're lucky my job pays well, asshole'), they left the restaurant and drove back, the remaining sake in a brown paper bag that Dio happily carried. The return trip was spent conversing as well, music playing in the background and the occasional bout of Sunnie spitting frustrated curses towards particularly poor drivers.

When she crossed the threshold into their shared suite, Sunnie happily kicked off her shoes and took off her hoodie. "That was a fucking good meal," she hummed, satisfied.

"Indeed it was," he agreed, taking his shoes off as well and mussing his hair, "Here, little bird," he added, holding the bag with the sake out towards her. She looked at him and then the bag, surprised.

"Oh?"

"A gift," he continued, "A celebration of your new slice of freedom."

Her eyes met his again and her expression was blank for a moment before her face soured comically. "So you had me buy my own gift, basically."

"Yes," he chuckled as she took the bag from him, rolling her eyes.

"Welp. It's the thought, I guess. I'm gonna drink some of it, then." Placing her backpack on the hook she'd installed, she swept off to the bar. "You want a glass, big guy?"

"No thank you, dear," he responded, sitting by his favorite arm of the sofa and grabbing The Elegant Universe back up, opening to his bookmark, "I've had my fill for tonight."

"Right-o," she signaled, getting a small cup and heading towards the sofa as well, "How d'ya like that book, by the way?"

"It's quite fascinating, if I'm to be honest," he said, shooting her a dazzling smile, "Greene has a fantastic way with words."

"He does!! He's a lot like Carl Sagan, in that sense," Sunnie grinned back, pouring herself a bit of the sake and downing it easily, eyebrows raising. "Wow, smooth. But like, Greene is able to speak about complex scientific concepts in a very accessible way. It's something I strive for, especially when I was a STEM teacher. You can't introduce people to the wonders of science if they can't understand what the fuck you're saying."

"I suppose not," Dio nodded, "Is there any reason why you chose this book in particular for me, though?"

She shrugged, a sheepish look on her face. "I mean, you are from an alternate dimension. I thought it might interest you."

He considered her explanation for a moment, then tilted his head, amber eyes glittering with appreciation. "You thought correctly."

The next hour and a half was spent discussing various scientific topics as Sunnie made her way through some of the sake, relaxing more and more as time progressed. Her cheeks were beginning to become rosy, the tip of her nose a cute pink, and her words were blurring slightly into each other—but only a bit.

"See, so that's like, what I've always wanted to do," she stated matter-of-factly, chomping down on another sea salt and vinegar chip. "It's dumb but I wanna do it."

Dio shook his head as he looked up, shoulders shaking lightly with laughter. "Navel bacterial cultures," he said, amused, and she immediately puffed up to defend herself.

"It's interesting!! Everyone's belly button microflora is different!!" She thought for a second, and her eyes lit up. "Probably their ass cracks, too!!!"

Dio let out a deep and resounding belly laugh. "Darling," he said once he caught his breath, "I don't know how many willing volunteers you would get for a swab of their ass crack."

"I could do it if I paid 'em," she said indignantly, a smile on her face nonetheless, "Money. S'the great motivator."

"That's true," he hummed, laying back against the corner of the sofa. There was a comfortable silence for a minute between them before Sunnie spoke again.

"Happy fuckin' birthday to me," she mumbled happily as she took another long swig of the sake, finishing her cup, and Dio's eyes shot up to her, surprised.

Birthday? Did he hear correctly?

"It's been an insane journey around the sun this round, but I'm in a better place now, I think," she continued, eyes unfocused, "Better job, I'm away from that shitbag… Yeah, I'd say I'm doin' pretty well."

"Why didn't you say it was your birthday before, Sunshine?" Dio asked, confused. She just laughed warmly and waved her hand dismissively.

"Naaaw, well it isn't much of a big deal, is it," she responded, getting up to pour herself a glass of chilled vanilla rum. "Just another rotation around our closest star, another year on this complicated ball of rock… time passes. I get older. That's just how it is."

She walked back over to the sofa and took a drink of her rum before plopping back down.

"Hey, Dio," she looked at him expectantly, "Can we watch a movie?"

He regarded her for a quick moment before nodding. "Of course, darling."

"A horror movie?"

"Anything you wish."

She grinned and turned the TV on, pulling out her phone and switching to one of her apps. "Good, 'cause I have a good one. It's called Coherence. I mean, it's not horror horror, but it's a thriller. Horror themes. Sci-fi, too. It's an excellent low budget film." Her phone connected to the casting device, and Windy popped out, switching the lights off before returning into Sunnie. Dio was mildly surprised, however, when Sunnie scooted right up against him, snuggling into his side as she took another few gulps of rum. The movie began to load, and she looked up at him, cheeks flush from drink and contentedness. "Thanks, man. Tonight's been great."

Strange woman.

"It's always my pleasure, Sunshine," he replied, smiling. She hummed and turned to the TV, settling comfortably against Dio, who huffed a small laugh and brought his arm around her as the movie began to play.

The Twenty Second of October.

He'd make note of it.

#ANOTHER ONE UP HOLY SHIIIIIIIIIIIT #JESUS FUCKING CHRIST I'M ON A ROLL #AHAHAHAHAHAJAJBGKDHSHF #SunnieD #my writing #sunnie writes

[deejadabbles]

A Thousand Songs (Atem/Yami x Reader)

Chapter Two: Leave Out All The Rest

One /// Two /// Three /// Four /// [Five Coming Soon]

Summary: You knew that you and your band could make it big. Not only that, but stay together while doing it; the five of you were family, after all. The only problem was that despite all your musical talents...none of you were particularly good at lyrics. After years of struggling to put out your first full album, the solution finally made himself know in chance meeting on an empty stage.

Rock Band AU, Atem x Reader, gender neutral reader.

A.N. In case they weren't gay enough in the last chapter, Yugi and Jonouchi are boyfriends in this series <3 Is it a bit unrealistic to think they could be in a band and remain happy n healthy in their relationship? Probably. Do I care? No.

"This ain't working at all- and I told you it wouldn't!"

Yugi sighed as his beloved boyfriend tossed his phone on the table and leaned back in his metal folding chair.

Immediately, Yugi picked up the phone and handed it back to Jonouchi. "You can't dismiss them on looks alone," he scolded in a light tone.

Jou looked aghast, "He looks like he sacrifices cats on Sundays!" He waved the screen at Yugi, which displayed a bearded man who cast a purposeful scowl at the camera. He had lots of tattoos and piercings on top of the studded leather clothes, but that just made Yugi more annoyed with his boyfriend.

"People can say the exact same thing about me!" He waved a hand, encompassing his leather pants, studded belt, collar-style choker, and the tattoo on his arm.

Honda let out an unsure hum as he scrolled through his own phone, "But you're still a cinnamon roll under all that leather, Yugi, I'm not sure this guy is. Don't think he's a bad dude or anything, but I don't think he's the right fit for us," he turned his phone so everyone else sitting at the table could see, "just look at the titles of the songs he sent."

Okay, Yugi would concede that the examples the applicant had sent were a little...extreme, the title "bled like a pig" stood out in particular, but he still thought the boys were being a bit judgy.

"I think I'm gonna agree," you mumbled, "these are pretty heavy."

"You wrote a song called "we are broken" that sounds pretty heavy," Yugi countered, not unkindly though still trying to play the middleman.

"Okay, heavy isn’t the right word,” you conceded with a frown as you looked over some rather grotesque lyrics, “yup, “ edge lord ” is more fitting. Just look at the contents of the songs."

At the suggestion, Yugi scrolled down the application on his own phone, passed the profile pic and down to the bottom of the "examples of my work" section. ….okay, you guys had a point. Yugi doubted that the guy actually performed blood sacrifices, but his song style was definitely a little too demonic.

"Alright, I'll send him a thanks but no thanks note."

As Yugi brought up his email app to do just that, Anzu let out a frustrated sigh and scrubbed her hands over her face. "That was, what, the sixtieth-something application we've gone through?" she groaned, setting her phone down too, “It’s been over a month, and we haven’t gotten anywhere.”

"I still can't believe we got so many responses to our ads," Jonouchi grunted.

You set your head on your hand, expression dropping and making the dark circles under your eyes look more pronounced, "Everyone's pretty eager to join a band, now if only getting fans was as easy as getting people who wanted in on the fame prospect."

"All this work would actually be worth it if we found someone who even remotely appealed to us," Honda commented, "But everyone's just a little too…"

"Hardcore?" Anzu offered, then looked over at you, "Nah, you’re right, edge lord-y seem to fit most of them. I think that's the real thing, our band name probably makes people think we're more broody and grim than we actually are. We have plenty of darker themes in our stuff but everyone else seems to take it just a bit too far than our tastes go."

You ran a hand over your eyes, “Anyone else feel like we’ve wasted five weeks looking these applications over?”

"Hey, I'm sure we'll find someone soon though!" Yugi chimed in, a valiant attempt to elevate the mood. You and Jonouchi were always saying (much to his embarrassment) that he was everyone’s ray of sunshine, so surely he could salvage the night’s mood. “We just have to keep trying, I’m sure the right person is just around the corner!”

Anzu threw him an appreciative smile, “You’re probably right, Yugi, but I think I’m done looking for the night, it’s pretty exhausting.” She leaned back in her chair more, stretching her arms over her head.

“It’s probably a good time to call it quits now anyways,” you offered after glancing at the time, “If I hurry home now I can catch a shower before my shift starts.”

Everyone mumbled and nodded their agreements at that, followed by the five of you meandering around the room to get your stuff together. Honda offered to drive you back to your apartment like usual and everyone waved goodbye to each other in the tiny parking lot of the studio, Jou and Yugi climbing into Jou’s truck, Anzu into her beat-up car, and you and Honda zipping away on his motorbike.

It wasn’t until Yugi and Jonouchi were back at their place and Jou was cooking their dinner that Yugi realized something with great annoyance. After dumping the content of his backpack out on their bed, rifling through his desk drawer, and scouring the floor, Yugi wandered into the living room/kitchen area with a frown.

“Hey, sweetie, have you seen my adapters?”

Jonouchi looked thoughtful as he stirred the contents of the pan, “Uh, you mean the ones you use for your turntables? Haven’t seen them since the last time we rehearsed, that was what, three days ago?”

Yugi mumbled a curse under his breath, double-checking the tables and other spots he might have absentmindedly set them. Nothing. “Darn, I must have left them at the theatre yesterday.”

“Sure they aren’t in the studio?”

“No, I looked to make sure I’d have them when we rehearse tomorrow, but they weren’t there, that’s why I had it on my mind to find them when we got home.” Yugi shrugged and checked the time, thinking. After making up his mind, he grabbed his purple jacket from the armchair, “It’s okay though, if I hurry I should be able to sneak back into the theatre to get it. I think some members of the orchestra practice together tonight, and even if they aren’t the janitor should still be there.”

Yugi bounded across the tile floor as he slipped his jacket on, jumping up to place a kiss on his boyfriend’s cheek before turning to the door.

“I won’t be long, be back before dinner’s done!”

“You better,” Jonouchi called as he grabbed some spices from the cabinet, “I ain’t fixing this masterpiece for one!”

Yugi chuckled and closed the door behind him, as if he’d miss a chance to taste his boyfriend’s amazing cooking.

There was barely any need for a jacket as he walked down the sidewalk, but the vanishing sun assured that it would probably get colder by the time he was walking back home. Although their apartment was a bit far from the band’s studio, the location at least allowed Yugi easy access to his other work place: Domino City’s “Pegasus Theatre”. It was a popular spot for the upper crust of Domino, since they not only hosted ballets, but a talented orchestra as well. Yugi and Anzu both worked there, Anzu as a dancer in the ballet, and Yugi in the sound department, providing tech aid for the shows. Well, for the ballets at least, the natural design of the theatre meant that he wasn’t usually needed when the orchestra played.  

Yugi's assumption proved right and he found the door of the employee entrance unlocked. The sound of chatter greeted him as he approached the stage area, signaling that the orchestra was packing it in for the night. He took a brief glance at the stage as he walked up the rows of seats- he had to be quick, as there were only three lingerers, two chatting as they headed for the door and one quietly packing away his violin.

Yugi bounded up the narrow staircase to the sound booth, opening the door and crossing the room to the little employee cubbies. He found what he was looking for quick enough, after pushing aside his spare jacket and snack bag. The beat-up altoids case rattled, but Yugi made sure to double-check that the adapters were actually in there. They were and he sighed in relief, pushing the other contents back into the cubby before turning.

He peered out the booth's window to see if the violinist was still there, and to Yugi's surprise he was not only still in sight, but the man had actually lingered after packing away his instrument. Standing in the very center of the stage, the man was looking out at the empty seats, then trailing his eyes up to the magnificent red curtains.

Yugi smiled to himself, figuring the man was just having a moment of wonder or taking in a daydream during his moment alone, and Yugi couldn't blame him in the slightest. Yugi was slower when taking the steps down, letting the man have his moment before he ruined it by walking by.

Again though, Yugi found himself surprised. His pace slowed, the sound of a melodic voice carrying through the theatre like a wave that had Yugi stopping dead in his tracks.

I dreamed I was missing

You were so scared

But no one would listen

Cause no one else cared

After my dreaming

I woke with this fear

What am I leaving

When I'm done here?

The voice was deep, the rumble of a serene storm, almost haunting in a way.

So, if you're asking me, I want you to know

Yugi’s feet were moving before he even noticed and he soon stood on the red carpets leading to the stage.

When my time comes

Forget the wrong that I've done

Help me leave behind some reasons to be missed

And don't resent me

And when you're feeling empty

Keep me in your memory

Leave out all the rest

Leave out all the rest

The violinist stood there, lost in his own world- or rather the words of his song. His eyes were closed, listening to a chorus of instruments only he could hear as his hands moved in short but meaningful gestures.

Don't be afraid

I've taken my beating

I've shared what I've made

I'm strong on the surface

Not all the way through

I've never been perfect

But neither have you

So, if you're asking me, I want you to know

The chorus of the song came again and Yugi finally snapped out of his reverie long enough to pull out his phone. With quick thumbs he searched the beautiful lyrics he had never heard before, wondering why he didn’t know the song.

No results came up, the song was unknown.

That only got Yugi’s attention more, and he gazed back up at the man, whose voice was filling with more and more emotion with every lyric. His fist clenched at the front of his shirt, over where his heart was, eyes screwed shut as he continued to pour his heart out to the empty theatre.

Forgetting

All the hurt inside you've learned to hide so well

Pretending

Someone else can come and save me from myself

A pause, an intake of breath, and Yugi found himself hanging on to every second the man gave.

I can't be who you are...

...I can’t be who you are

The singer drew out the last lyric in a prolonged, sorrowful note; breathy as he bowed his head, the song- his raw expression, finished.

Instantly Yugi found himself clapping, bounding down the red aisle between the seats to the stage. He only felt slightly guilty when the other man jumped in fright.

“That was amazing! Your voice is amazing- that song too!”

The man (who Yugi only now noticed has a similar hairstyle to his own) stared back at him with wide eyes, body stiff.  “Uh- oh I- thank you. I...didn’t realize anyone else was here.”

The man’s speaking voice was deep too, and anyone could guess that he’d have a powerful set of pipes. Yugi was still too excited to pay the man’s nervousness much mind as he practically hopped to the foot of the stage.

“I didn’t mean to startle you- but I couldn’t help it, that was awesome! Did you write that song yourself? I googled some of the lyrics and nothing came up.”

The man took a while to respond and Yugi wondered if his dark complexion was hiding a blush. Eventually, though, the violinist/singer cleared his throat.

“Y-yes, I wrote it. I’ve never sung it in front of anyone though.”

“Do you write a lot of songs?” Yugi pressed and again it took his new friend a moment to respond.

“...Sometimes. I suppose it’s a bit of a hobby. Listen I-”

Finally, Yugi actually realized just how rude he was being with his aggressive ramblings, “Oh, gosh I’m sorry! I’m bombarding you with questions like some weirdo.” He gave a nervous laugh and to his relief, the man’s posture seemed to relax a little- though he still seemed a bit embarrassed. “My name’s Yugi, by the way, I’m one of the sound techs.”

The man gave a nod of his head, “Atem, I’m a violinist in the orchestra.”

“And a totally awesome singer, you’ve got some real talent,” Yugi reiterated, but pressed on before the man could get too bashful again, “The reason I asked you so many questions is because I think it’s fate that we met like this! See I’m in a band, we’re trying to put out our first full-length album but- honestly, we’re aren’t very fast at pumping out new songs. We’re great with coming up with the music, but the lyrics always get us stuck. We’ve actually been looking to hire a ghostwriter for our songs, but none of the people we’ve found seem right- but that song was amazing, just the kind of stuff we like!” Ignoring the unreadable expression on Atem’s face, Yugi dug out his cardholder and passed one of them up to Atem. “I don’t wanna blindside you more than I already have tonight- sorry about that again, but, I really think you’d be a perfect fit for us. Think about it, and if it seems interesting to you, come talk to me.”

Atem looked the card over for a second, before peering back at Yugi, “I’ve never really put my songs out there, it’s just a private hobby, I don’t want you and your bandmates to get your hopes up.”

Yugi waved off his concern, “Don’t worry about that. Like I said, just think about it, okay?” He didn’t move, nor look away from Atem until the man finally nodded in agreement. “Awesome! Take your time and come talk to me once you’ve thought about it some.” His outgoing steam was starting to run out, his bold and somewhat rude actions finally starting to catch up to him. In a sudden burst of embarrassment, Yugi brought his hand up to scratch at the back of his head. “Anyway, I’ll let you go now, I’m sure you want to get home or get on with your night. It was nice meeting you, Atem!”

And with a wave, Yugi was heading for the door, leaving a rather bewildered Atem in his wake.

#atem x reader #yami x reader #yugioh x reader #yugioh #Atem #yami yugi #band AU #Yugioh Band AU #series: a thousand songs

[justlurkinnothurtin]

Soooooo I wrote thing based on a post I saw on @buggachat which was originally posted by @flashflashitsash. Enjoy reading about Adrien stuck in an uncomfortable after dinner discussion. 

(Also, I really hope I’m doing this right. I was inspired by said post which pondered the concept that Adrien has not received the talk from anyone in the Agreste household. I took that idea and ran with it, but I wanted to make sure everyone was credited properly. If there is something I should be doing, please let me know.)

Nathalie takes a deep breath. She knocks on the heavy oak door twice before entering Gabriel’s office. Per Gabriel’s request to keep meetings short, she skips the greetings and the pleasantries and speaks directly to the heart of the matter. “Sir, the housekeepers are refusing to clean Adrien’s room.”

Gabriel doesn’t bother looking up from the touch screen. He continues to review designs submitted by staff as he discusses the issue with his assistant. “Adrien picks up after himself, so his room is usually easy to clean. Why is housekeeping refusing to clean Adrien’s room?”

Nathalie stalls. She knows her boss is never in a good mood, doubly so when his in-laws visit. “They found a cheese in his room.”

Gabriel stops futzing with his work. He looks over at Nathalie for clarification. “I’m not following. Did they find a moldy cheese that was somehow forgotten about?”

The assistant chooses her words carefully to convey the situation without being too direct. “They found a smashed cheese. Under his pillow. In his bed.”

Gabriel considers new bits of information. “I see.”

No one speaks as the reality of the situation settles. The silence in the room grows palatable. Nathalie breaks the silence first. “I’m not talking to your son about his… habits. That is not in the scope of my job as your assistant.”

Gabriel scowls and growls his words at Nathalie. “I didn’t ask you to.” Gabriel pulls up his calendar. The next several days look very busy. “Clear my schedule for this evening. Adrien and I will be having dinner alone, after Amelie and Felix leave.”

“Yes sir.” Nathalie taps on her tablet to begin rescheduling as she walks out of the office.

Later that evening

Adrien and Gabriel eat dinner in silence. As Gabriel finishes his meal, he pushes his plate away and leans back in his chair, waiting for Adrien to finish. Adrien notices his father’s not-quite relaxed posture. Adrien breaks the ice. “It was nice to have dinner with you, Father. Do you have another meeting you need to get to? If not, then we could watch a movie or play game.” The son does his best to hide his excitement at the prospect of being able to spend some quality time with his father. Dinners together are rare, and rarer still is spending time together after.

The light glints off the father’s glasses in a foreboding manner. Gabriel settles in for a serious discussion. “Actually, before we do anything else, we need to talk.”

“Talk? Did I do something wrong?” A wave of disappointment crashes over Adrien. It seems like his father only ever talks to him if something was not up to standards.

Gabriel reframes the conversation away from wrong-doing. “Not wrong per se, but concerning.” Gabriel takes a deep breath and gathers his thoughts. “Everyone has urges. It’s natural to seek out a release from such urges, but you should never use food or everyday objects for such a release. Those activities should be limited to your hands, object designed for the task, or a consenting partner. I would appreciate it if you held off on the last one until you were older.”

Adrien’s eyes become pinpoints. The confusion sets in. “What are you talking about?”

Gabriel is not amused. “If you’re creative enough to use cheese, then I’m sure you’re creative enough to figure how to use your hands, Adrien. I’ll make sure your room is stocked with tissues and lotion from now on. No more keeping whole cheese wheels in your room. Food belongs in the kitchen.”

Adrien rests his elbows on the table and sinks his head into his hands. He wonders aloud and mostly to himself. “What is happening right now?”

Gabriel’s face somehow grows sterner. He relays the facts of the day’s earlier incident to his son. “A used cheese was found under your pillow. No should have to clean up after your… activities.”

A look of realization flashes across Adrien’s face. He remembers Plagg complaining about Felix ruining the cheese Plagg had been aging. “I promise I didn’t do whatever it is you think happened to that cheese.”

A sigh of relief makes its way through the older Agreste. Gabriel is relieved that his child is not into cheese. Unfortunately they still have more to address. “I believe you, but the rest of this discussion is important information we should have talked about earlier. Concerning consenting partners; no Gabriel brand or household employees, no one from competing brands, and you should avoid anyone from your pool of fans.”

Adrien looks up at his father. The younger Agreste’s brows furrow as he checks his understanding. “So basically my classmates or Kagami?”

Gabriel rejects the suggestion almost by reflex. “Not Kagami. If things turned sour it could affect the agreements between Gabriel and Tsurugi.” They could not afford to lose the contract with Tsurugi concerning factories in the east.

“So my classmates?” asks Adrien.

Gabriel scratches his chin and reconsiders. “Doesn’t one of your classmates run the Ladyblog? Not her either. In fact, no journalists.”

Adrien raises one eyebrow. He thinks he is starting to catch on to the discussion. “Alya? I’m pretty sure she’s dating Nino.”

Gabriel reminds himself that Emilie would want to present a united and accepting front just in case their son needed the reassurance concerning his orientation. “Nino would be okay if you’re into that sort of thing, but he’s still not allowed inside our house.” 

If he was into that sort of thing? Adrien’s confusion grew, but he attempted to set the record straight.  “Just so I understand, consenting partners cannot be your employees or household employees, employees of a competing brand, journalists, people that could affect contracts in which Gabriel the brand is involved, and shouldn’t be any of my fans, but could be Nino.”

Gabriel nods his confident his son was catching on. “Exactly.”

Adrien asks the question that has plagued him since the beginning of the conversation. “What are they consenting to?”

Gabriel covers his face with one hand. “Honestly, it could be a lot of things, but everyone should be on the same page before you start.”

The answer from Gabriel is not helpful. Adrien tries to get a more direct answer from his father. “Start what?”

Gabriel wishes Emilie to wake up at that moment, like he does every time he feels like he is flubbing a delicate conversation.  Gabriel speaks only one word with gravity to impart his meaning. “Activities.”

The gravity of the spoken word does not work on the teenaged son. Adrien pauses and thinks of the few times his father allowed him to leave the house and what he was allowed to do. Adrien lights up believing he has figured out his father’s puzzling statements. “Oh! Like practicing with Marinette, or with the girls in the park, or at the ice skating rink with Luka, Marinette and Kagami, or with everyone on the house boat.” He remembers too late that he only got permission from his father to practice video games, to go ice skating and to go to see Kitty Section during the music festival. He never got permission to do the photo shoot with the girls in the park. Oops.

Gabriel now wishes he was dealing with a child who was into cheese. The name Marinette rings a bell. Oh god. Marinette is name of Tom and Sabine’s daughter, and Adrien admits to using her for practice. Gabriel prays Adrien means some other Marinette, so he doesn’t have to deal with the fall out of upsetting the best bakery in Paris. With the mention of Kagami, the Tsurugi contract is dead. “… did everyone take proper precautions?”

Adrien thinks back to ice skating and to listening to loud music. “Do you mean helmets, knee pads, and ear plugs?”

Gabriel is perturbed by Adrien’s answer. What in the world is Adrien into?!  The father asks for his own sanity. “Are you at least using a barrier method?”

The son is more lost than ever. “What’s a barrier method?” Adrien wonders what barriers have to do with ice skating and listening to music.

Gabriel’s frustration builds with his son’s supposed lackadaisical attitude towards sex. He lashes out. “If you don’t know about condoms and dental dams, you really shouldn’t be involved in group scenes, Adrien. I’m worried that you’ve been given too much freedom if you can’t be bothered to practice safe sex.” Gabriel glares at his son from over the top of his glasses. He reaches for his phone, ready to update Nathalie on the new rules for his son.

Adrien’s brain malfunctions as he tries to straighten out how this conversation got away from him. It hits him that he told his father he practiced with Marinette. He wonders if Marinette would still want to be his friend after sticking his foot in his mouth. The words somehow manage to come out of Adrien’s mouth. “Safe sex? What do condoms and dental dams have to do with ice skating, band practice and video games? What’s a dental dam?”

The phone is left undisturbed on the table. No new rules for Adrien. Gabriel shakes his head not sure if should be relieved that Adrien is not some sort of deviant or let down by how easily Adrien misses context. Gabriel is determined to finish this conversation, if only to avoid future discussions with Nathalie over anything in Adrien’s room. “A dental dam is a thin flexible sheet of latex or similar material used to prevent the transmission of STDs during oral sex. No matter what your… kink is, you should always practice safe sex. Barrier methods protect against sexually transmitted diseases, and condoms specifically also protect against pregnancy.” Gabriel takes on his more familiar and stern countenance. “It’s important to the brand that you are discrete and avoid any mishaps. It would be wise for you to refrain from such activities until you are older. Deviations could make your image appear less wholesome and adversely affect our target audience.”

Adrien adds another expectation to his ever growing list. At least he isn’t outright banned from activities as Gabriel put it. Adrien asks another question. “How do you use condoms and dental dams?”

Gabriel answers the question without getting in the details. “There’s instructions on the box with diagrams. Read them prior to getting into racy situations. A box of each has been placed in your room.” He adds to his answer in hopes of avoiding accidents due to unfamiliarity. “It wouldn’t be a bad idea to practice and get familiar with them first.”

“Practice?” the son asks.

“In your room, on yourself,” the father responds.

Adrien gets more comfortable with the conversation. It is not how he thought the night would go, but at least he gets to spend time with his father. “What else should I know?”

Gabriel relaxes a smidge. The conversation is flowing easier now Adrien and Gabriel are on the same page. Gabriel imparts some important wisdom. “Consent can be withdrawn at any time. Take your time and check in frequently with your chosen partner or partners to make sure everyone is still on board. Don’t rush, and make sure to communicate your desires clearly as well as listen.”

“Am I supposed to ask them if they still want sex during sex?” asks Adrien. He doesn’t doubt his father, but that is not how sex is usually portrayed.

Gabriel explains the concept more thoroughly. “You’re supposed to make sure they still want sex during sex, but you don’t need to use those exact words. It doesn’t even necessarily be verbal. It’s mostly a matter of making your partner is still enjoying themselves. Pay attention, and if something seems off then back off. In the beginning of a relationship or with temporary flings, you’ll probably rely more on verbal communication because everyone is different in how they show enthusiasm.” Gabriel notices Adrien biting the side of his lip and offers more direction on checking in on sexual partners. “You could use more playful questions like, does that feel good, what do you want you right now, are you ready for whatever. All of this is easier to do when you are not in the midst of puberty and after your hormones have leveled out. Another reason to wait until you are older.” Gabriel gently pushes for his son to wait again. It would be easier on the brand if the face of the teen department isn’t known as a pint-sized playboy.

It is a lot of information to absorb, but Adrien knows his father probably isn’t done. “Is that it?”

Gabriel switches to the more practical side of sexual health. “Whenever you start having sex, let me know so I can get a wellness check scheduled for you.” Gabriel flips over his phone and makes a few notes.

Adrien face and tone falls flat. “Aren’t you going to tell Nathalie to schedule the appointment?”

Gabriel counters. “Do you want Nathalie to know when you become sexually active?”

Nathalie spends the most time with him, but Adrien isn’t comfortable with Nathalie knowing his private life. “Not really.”

Gabriel reassures Adrien. “Then I won’t have Nathalie schedule the appointment. I will have to tell her that you have a doctor’s appointment in order to keep your schedule clear, but I won’t tell her the reason.”

“Thank you, Father.” Something about the conversation nags at Adrien. “Aren’t you going to tell me what sex is?”

Gabriel stares down Adrien. The boy is 14. He doesn’t need everything spelled out. “I’ve seen your search history, Adrien. I know you know what sex is. I will say that pornography is not accurate. It’s not usually representative of what women want. Everything in porn is exaggerated, most people don’t look like that naked, and no woman has ever been that excited by extra sausage on her pizza.”

Adrien’s face turns beet red as he remembers how almost everything in his life is monitored. “…anything else?”

Gabriel gives one last piece of advice. “Don’t keep condoms in your wallet. The heat and the friction could weaken the condom making it more likely to break.”

As if on autopilot, the next question is blurted out without thinking. “Is that what happened to you and mom?” His father stares into Adrien’s soul. The steely eyes draw out another statement from Adrien. “My birthday is six months after your wedding anniversary.”

Later

In his room, Adrien recalls the strange conversation over the phone with Nino. “And then my father grounded me.”

#Adrien Agreste #Gabriel Agreste #Nathalie Sancoeur #The talk #Adrien might be made of sunshine but he's still a curious teenager #just saying

[buckyscrystalqueen]

Managed: Part 2

Pairings: Clark Kent x Reader (Henry Cavill Clark)

Warnings: Maybe swearing

Word Count: 2,411

A/N: Doesn’t have a completed end yet, but just giving you more content to try to get myself out of a writing funk.

Part 1

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~~~~ 1 year later ~~~~~~

“So there’s a first for everything, I guess.” You sighed as you walked across the setting sun lit parking area toward the familiar black truck you had spent most nights sitting on, watching the sunset over the Blue Ridge mountains with your boyfriend.

“What, first time peeing in the woods?” Clark asked as you jumped up on the truck bed beside him with a sigh.

“First time taking a pregnancy test in the woods.” You breathed as you looked down at the napkin wrapped stick in your hand before setting it down beside you to wash your hands with hand sanitizer. He nodded his head in agreement, torn like you on what you wanted that stick to say. The two of you, the couple of love sick puppies, fresh out of a Disney movie, were dying to see the two pink lines. Both of your mothers, would absolutely support you if you were, but your jobs? You had some how managed to go an entire year without anyone at your job figuring out you were dating which, in and of itself was a complete miracle. But growing a child was bound to be noticeable at some point. There would be questions, and knowing Clark, there would be more concern for your well being than there already was…

“Baby…” Clark said softly as he reached over and gently touched the small of your back, knowing your ‘spiraling out’ expression better than anyone. “We’re going to figure it out.”

“It’s gunna be too late for me to switch departments…”

“Let me figure that out…”

“How are you going to just figure that out, Clark?” You snapped a little harshly with a slight glare. “You already do so much every day to try to make my work load as light as possible and it’ll just look like favoritism.”

“And I can forever spin that off as the way I was raised.” He countered quickly to try to cut off the full tail spin before you drowned in it. “I also know for a fact that Margret in windows is retiring at the end of the month. I know you’ve moon-lit in that department so much, that you’d know how to take over no problem and I know the pay is better than flooring because it’d just be you taking the commissions.”

“You’d still be my manager…”

“I’m only flooring’s department manager.” He said with a shake of his head. “Erica is the ASM of windows, and Paul is the supervisor. Windows doesn’t have a department manager because it’s always been just Margret.” You nodded your head slowly and looked out at the valley.

“Can you keep it a secret?” You asked him as you turned to look over at him. “Just at work I mean. Can you stop yourself from shouting from the roof tops that you’re going to be a dad to your friends…”

“Even if I don’t.” He countered with a shake of his head. “And I lose my job because of this, or even if for some stupid, totally illegal reason, we both do, I will find another one and I won’t let you or this baby go without. I love you, (Y/N). You are my world, and together, we will make it through anything, OK?”

“Promise?” You whispered with a small, teary catch in your throat. His smile grew as he nodded his head and moved his hand from your back to hold your hand.

“I swear.” With a nod back, you glanced down at your beeping watch, turned the timer off and picked up the pregnancy test from the truck bed. You pulled back the paper and held it out in front of both of you with slightly shaky hands.

“OK.” Clark said through a giant smile as you stared at the parallel lines. “We’re going to be OK. Sweetheart, don’t cry, come here.” He chuckled as he carefully tossed the stick into the trash bag from dinner and easily picked you up and into his lap. He shushed you softly, knowing exactly where your mind was taking you before you could even figure it out yourself, and nodded his head against your temple. “Small bites, (Y/N). Little bit at a time. We’re pregnant. That’s all we need to focus on today. Just being pregnant.”

“But what about…?”

“Just being pregnant.” He repeated with a smile as he scooted you both back in the truck bed so he could lean against the side. “One step at a time. We can do this, right?” You shook your head before a huffed laugh escaped through your tears.

“You’re counseling.”

“You need it.” He chuckled as he wrapped his arms around you with a content sigh.

“I love you.” You whispered softly as you laid your head down on his shoulder.

“I love you, too, baby. Both of you. Don’t you ever forget it.”

——

“Hey, (Y/N). How do you feel about home decor?” Erica asked before you had even clocked in to work the next day. You cocked your eyebrow at her and wondered briefly if Clark had said something to her when he came in, but he was off that morning so he wouldn’t have seen her since the day before.

“It’s pretty?” You said almost questioningly. “Why?”

“Well, you’ve been there most of the week.” She started as she showed you the stores list of details for the week. “And you have managed to keep all of your flooring and the window details you have active off my list of lates for the last four months, easily.”

“OK…”

“So if you’re OK with it, I’m gunna talk to Lauren and have you moved over to home decor because I know you will be able to handle the influx of details since Margret retired earlier than we expected and I know Dave can handle flooring by himself for a while. Does that sound like something you’d be interested in?” 

“Umm…”

“I can even try to get you a slight pay raise, too. Your track record this past year since you started with us shows you absolutely deserve it.”

“OK…”

“OK.” She said with a nod as she handed you the dailies for home decor. “Makes working with Clark a little less suspect…”

“Wait, I’m sorry?” You said as your head whipped up to look at her. She smirked and shook her head.

“Sweetie, I’ve known that man for almost ten years. He may be all midwest class, but he’s never taken a shine to someone the way he has you. I was just guessing that y’all were a couple, which is just another reason I wanted to move you out of flooring. You’re both great employees, and I didn’t want to lose either of you if you were and if this is how I can save you, then this is what I will do.” She shrugged her shoulder and leaned against the counter with her hip. “Honey, I may be old, but I’m not blind…”

“We didn’t…” You tried, but she shook her head again and held up her hand.

“I know nothing, and I ain’t sayin’ nothing.” She said as she pushed off the counter. “But you may wanna consider being a little more sneaky about getting rides to and from work. And those good bye kisses…” Your face turned bright red and your hands flew to cover your cheeks as she turned and walked away. “Go to work, (Y/N). The DSHR won’t do themselves. You’re back in windows again.” With a mortified nod, you turned and quickly walked toward the break room to grab your apron and a mobile phone. You shot Clark a text to call you in windows as soon as possible, and you grabbed the ringing phone as you made it to your new desk.

“Windows…”

“Everything OK?”

“Erica knows.” You hissed as you sat down at the only chair on the sales floor. “She’s moving me to home decor to keep us both and I guess she caught us kissing good bye when you drop me off when I stay over…”

“What’d she say?” You huffed and pulled up the DSHR app on your mobile and started answering the questions from what you could see of your small section while on the phone.

“That she may be old but she’s not blind. That she knows nothing and isn’t saying anything to anyone. That we need to be more sneaky.”

“Did you tell her you’re pregnant?”

“No, honestly, I actually forgot I was until just now. Kinda more concerned about losing our jobs…”

“OK, you’re not going to lose your job, sweetheart.” Clark interrupted gently. “Look, I know Erica. I’ve known her a long time. I’ll talk to her when I come in and explain the situation, OK? She’s an understanding woman. And if it was something we needed to be concerned about, I would have gotten talked to before you as your superior. They wouldn’t bother moving you first. So you gotta stop worrying, baby. That’s my job, remember? With the manly man muscles…”

“OK.” You breathed with a nod as a smile finally pulled at your cheeks.

“OK. Now get to work. I’ll see you later.”

“Bye sweets.” You said softly before hanging up the phone. You sighed to yourself and glanced down at your stomach before going over to finish the DSHR. Your morning flew by as you tried to catch all Margret’s details up to date along with making sure all of yours were still on track, and before you knew it, Clark was standing at your desk, waiting for you to get off the phone, with an unreadable look on his face.

“Lauren needs to see us.” He sighed when you hung up, making your stomach turn. “Apparently, Erica isn’t the only one who has noticed…”

“Oh, Jesus.” You groaned as you got out of your chair and flipped over your paperwork to keep your clients information concealed. You swallowed back bile and followed him toward the back where the store manager’s office was across from the break room. Lauren glanced up at you and gestured you both to sit as she ended the phone call she was on.

“So I have to commend both of you.” She started as Erica slipped into the room as well and closed the door behind herself. “Usually, when I have to talk to employees for partaking in romantic relationships, it’s because it’s become a disruption to their work output. Personally, I met my wife here at Blue Ridge, so I understand it happens and can work out for the best. And fortunately, there is wiggle room in the company policy.”

“Lauren…” Clark tried, but she shook her head with a smile.

“Clark, I’ve known for months.” She laughed. “The installed sales office has security cameras, remember.” Your face turned bright red and you quickly tried to hide behind your hands while Clark simply cleared his throat as both of you thought about the stolen kisses at the end of your shifts before one of you left for the day when the other still had work to do. “Now, I’ve bit my tongue, because it hasn’t affect the company yet. And as long as it continues to not affect the company or your jobs, I see no problem with it. But we will be moving you, (Y/N), over to windows so that you are not working under Clark so that you are actually abiding by the personal relationships policy, which both of you should have done months ago.”

“I’m sorry that’s…”

“That was my call.” Clark interrupted but you shook your head.

“Our call.” You said, meekly.

“It doesn’t matter.” Erica added with a shake of her head. “It really doesn’t. It’s out now, and it’s OK. Just don’t let it affect your jobs and it will keep being OK. OK?”

“Think you guys can do that?” Lauren asked as she sat back in her chair. You and Clark both nodded and exchanged a look, and you nodded your head to answer his unspoken question.

“We um…” He started as he looked back at the two women. “We actually found out last night that we are pregnant…”

“Awww!” Erica cooed as Lauren’s smile grew even more.

“It’s a good thing we’re moving you over to home decor, then. Heavy lifting when you’re pregnant isn’t good for the baby. Let Kate know when you have appointments as soon as you can and we can work your schedules out as best as we can so you both can go…”

“Kate knows?” Clark asked, incredulously.

“Kate was the one who saw you get dropped off a couple times for work.” Erica said as she ignored a call on her mobile phone. “Beth in outside garden did as well.” 

“And Mark and Sam in security as they brought the ISO footage to my attention.” Laura finished. “Look, this doesn’t need to be drawn out from here. You don’t need to tell anyone you don’t want to. The people who need to know, know. And moving forward, you no longer work in the same department so there’s no issue. Just don’t let this affect your jobs. I can’t say that enough. Please. You’re both hard workers, and you’re great fits here. I don’t wanna lose either of you.”

“Well…” Clark said with a relieved sigh. “Thank you. I’m sorry we didn’t come to you sooner…”

“Don’t worry about it.” Lauren said with a smile. “Now, I have a whole list of of phone calls I still have to make and I know you guys have work to do.”

“We’re going.” Clark said as he stood up and habitually pulled you up from your chair as well. “Don’t wanna push our luck too much.”

“Congratulations, you two.” Lauren said as she sat forward and hit the speaker button to make her next call. “A baby… I’m jealous.”

“Enjoy your sleep while you can.” Erica laughed as she hesitated in front of the training room door.

“Did that just happen?” You hissed as you and Clark headed back onto the floor to go back to work.

“Told you not to worry.” You scowled at him and stuck your tongue out as he stopped at the flooring desk.

“Pain.” You muttered as you headed almost directly across the center aisle to your desk to finish your last two calls before you went to lunch.

Part 3

#clark kent x reader #clark x reader #Managed

[hol-whore]

here’s the other jolyne fic i’ve been working on since like.,,, early november/late october? it’s long. boy howdy is it long. but it’s soft! hopefully!

jolyne x fem s/o – delicate

You and Jolyne have a late night adventure.

what’s on the menu: 4.8k words, fluff AND smut that i like to call “sugar, spice, and everything nice!”, tender emotions, eating out (no-pun-intended), and a jolyne who loves to tease. because i’m gay.

“-and then, you wouldn’t believe it, she ACTUALLY ate it.”

“No joke?” “No joke.” Jolyne promises with a smirk, slurping down the last of her soda and setting the now empty cup down on the table gingerly. She leans back and drapes an arm over the back of the booth as best she can, turning her head to look out the window with a sigh and observing the dimly lit empty parking lot outside.

The tacky fast food joint you and your girlfriend were holed up in was never super busy, and 1 AM on a Friday morning was obviously no exception. Not that either of you had anything to complain about; being the only people in the small establishment just meant anything you talked about was between the two of you and whatever poor employee overheard your wild conversations.

You watch as she reaches her arms above her head to adjust one of her buns and brush a section of her bangs out of her face. The hem of her already short shirt rides up past her belly button, revealing faint abs and stopping just before the shelf of her chest, and the muscles in her strong arms flex as she tugs her hair into place. You stick your straw in your mouth in a desperate attempt to distract yourself from staring. 

It was futile, really — you knew that. The pink blush already dusting your cheeks was all Jolyne needed to even decide you’d been staring, and of course she took advantage of it immediately. A whisper of a grin crosses her features before she gives an exaggerated yawn and stretches both arms far above her, even leaning back in her booth slightly for emphasis, earning you an excellent view for just a moment.

“Aw, well,” she sighs, a low grunt forming in her throat once she brings her arms back down, “that wasn’t a totally shitty midnight snack, but we can’t stay here all night.” 

“Do we...need to go home now?” you ask softly as Jolyne slides out from her side of the booth and cocks an eyebrow. “I mean. Not really? But plush blankets sound better than pleather burger joint seats...” “No! I didn’t — I didn’t mean we stay here, I just meant… I’m not really ready to go back yet, is all.” 

There wasn’t anything wrong with home; frankly, you preferred being home far more than anywhere else around. And since home, lately, had been ‘Jolyne’s place while her dad was away for work’, well…it was safe to say home was more than ideal. 

There was just something about the liminal late-night-early-morning hours that soothed your heart. It felt like time stopped once the sun set, possibilities were suddenly endless, nothing stood between you and living a little. 

It was freedom --- freedom you relished in, and freedom you wanted to share with the love of your life.

Jolyne gives a short, breathy chuckle, taking your hand as you leave your booth before dropping a satin kiss on your cheek and fishing her keys out from her pants pocket with the other. “Fair enough. I’ve got somethin’ I wanna do, anyway,” she says fondly, then gives your hand a squeeze as the two of you head back to the car.

You have no idea what she has in mind. All your prodding and pleading is met with a quick smile and glance as your girlfriend works through the streets towards the edge of town, music turned up to a comfortable volume and the windows rolled down just so.

Knowing further questions are pointless, you shift your attention to watching lights outside roll by, muttering the words of whatever dorky pop song was playing on the static-ridden radio under your breath. Jolyne all too often catches herself looking past her shoulder to your spot on the passenger side, sometimes for maybe a bit too long. The way your hair whips back in the breeze of the open window and the way your eyes squint on occasion pulls on her heartstrings, a loving ache building up in her chest as she watches you by the light of passing street lamps. You were so, so dear to her, and you drove her crazy with the tiniest of gestures, intended or not.

She grins wide, turning her attention back to the road fully to turn onto a gravelly road only labeled “Orange Gardens Park” and reaches over to place her hand on your thigh. “Almost there, baby. Look familiar?” she says, her voice a song on the wind as she gives the swell of your leg a loving squeeze. 

It was familiar  —  this was the same park she dragged you out to the night she’d kissed you by something that seemed like an accident, the night she fessed up her love and you’d found yourselves closer with each other than ever. The sentiment makes your breath catch in your throat, and your mind fogs up with the memory as you follow her out of the car to find somewhere to settle.

———

“That is NOT Orion. Lookit — no belt.” “....whatever. It’s close enough. We’ll call him… Orion II.”

Jolyne snorts, rolling into to your side as the two of you lay in the grass on the blanket she kept in her car for picnics and random adventures like these. She drapes her arm over your abdomen and presses yet another kiss against your cheek, this time yawning in your ear and kissing the corner of your jaw. “You’re hilarious, baby. A real riot. One helluva comedian.” she muses sleepily, then nuzzles her face against the side of your neck. 

You feel your heart warm as you relish in the gentle comfort of feeling her breath against your skin, and the softness of her teasing voice. It was a different kind of teasing from the feisty jabs she usually directed towards others, this kind instead tinted with a quiet adoration. 

The warmth in your chest washes over the rest of your body as you shift your shoulder under Jolyne’s head and bring your arm around her back to run your hands through her hair, thankful she’d taken her usual buns out before laying down with you. You loved how cute they were on her, but you felt bad trying to maneuver your fingers through the taut strands between them. It never hurt her — you just figured it was uncomfortable. Jolyne leans into the gesture, sighing happily and gently brushing her thumb across your stomach a couple times. 

Shit. She really was something else.

The calm stillness of the night and the comfort of Jolyne next to you tempt you towards sleep, and the only thing that whisks it away is a whisper breaking the quiet between you.

“...you’re wonderful. Y’know that, right? Do I say it enough?” she murmurs, voice cracking slightly from trying to hold a low volume.

Jolyne wasn’t exactly known for being romantic or delicate, but you and anyone close to her knew she could be as sweet as she is tough and spontaneous. Loud grocery store trips with you had the same place in her heart as holding you in bed, heart raw with emotion merely over the bond you shared. Today just must’ve been one of those days.

“Only multiple times everyday,” you giggle, rolling on your side to face her better and pressing a kiss to her nose before she can stop you.

“Noooo, listen, you mean the world to me. Honestly. I...I dunno what I’d do without you, and I don’t like thinkin’ about it. You just get me, and you make me happy, a-and when I’m with you there’s this grip around my heart that makes me wanna do anything and everything for you.” She sounded almost shy; she did frequently express her love, but rarely ever in such a raw manner. “Oh, Jojo....” You think for a moment, trying to find words to match hers. “You’re so comforting to be around, and you’re always so enthusiastic and determined and I feel li-” You’re interrupted by the force of soft, waxy lips smushed against your own, the shock of it almost knocking the wind out of you. She tastes faintly of her cherry coke from earlier, and the scent of bubblegum lipstick and the jasmine perfume she steals from you clouds around her like a sweet mist. It’s messy at first, the grogginess of you both not exactly mixing well, but that doesn’t last long. 

There’s a pause, and Jolyne pulls away with a soft apology for the sudden gesture then props herself up on her elbow and rolls you off your side and onto your back for ease of access. 

She plants a light kiss to your forehead, then scoots in closer to the side of you of you gingerly, one arm sitting to the side of your head to hold herself up while the other cups your face. You lean into her hand and sigh happily, losing yourself to the romance of it all. 

Her laying over you like this always did something to you --- it was so incredibly tender and intimate, her soft gaze ever-adoring, both of you finding comfort and warmth in each other’s eyes. And simply by the gentle smile on her face, you could tell she was thinking something along the same lines. 

She leans in after a bit with renewed energy, the glaze over her eyes washing away as she breaks from her own romantic thoughts, and ruffles your hair as she kisses your lips. It starts as a handful of small smooches, but quickly melts into something more like a make out session.

“Mm, Jojo,” you mumble between sugary kisses, earning her attention, “where’s all this coming from? You were falling asleep mere moments ago.” She pulls away, and you faintly see her roll her eyes in the pale starlight before a more crooked grin spreads across her face, and the hand cupping your cheek moves down to rest on your stomach.

God, she was so cute. 

“Dunno. Guess you just tend to have that effect on me, babe. C’mere, I’m not done,” she whispers. Her voice is laced with sleepy romance as she brings your mouths together again, struggling through her wide smile.

Her teeth graze against your bottom lip in a gentle bite. The hand on your stomach eventually roams elsewhere, first dropping to trace underneath the waistband of your pants and pausing when you whine in response. Jolyne breaks away from your kiss, pride written plainly on her flushed face, hand drawing back up slightly. A brief, teasing laugh falls from her mouth at your reaction, and you suddenly feel very hot. 

“Whoops. How’d that happen?”

The question isn’t genuine, of course. She knew how to push your buttons, and she knew just when to push them. It turns out all of the love talk and minute gestures tonight had you feeling a stir somewhere deep inside yourself — and as far as you could guess, Jolyne was feeling it too. 

She looks towards her hand as she scruffs the faint tuft of hair beneath your belly button, humming with fond satisfaction and muttering a quiet “so cute” under her breath, and you watch with careful curiosity as she sits up. Jolyne shakes her arms out a bit, then turns and stretches her leg over you, situating herself on the lower part of your torso and locking you in a straddle. She rocks ever so slightly, aiming to get comfy, and heats up at the feeling of your raised knees pressing your thighs against her back. Ginger hands brush hair from your face, and Jolyne looks thoughtful as she stares down at you.

“Is this, uh. Is this alright? Comfy? W-We can go sit in the car instead, or just skip it altogether, it’s just,” she breathes, somewhat fragile, followed by a weak laugh punctuated by her hands holding yours yet again, “I can’t seem to keep my hands off tonight.”

You flush, and only muster a nod before Jolyne is upon you, a soft smile almost immediately gracing her features as she leans down to kiss your forehead and slides her hands up your sides, thumbs firmly pressing into the underside of your breasts, and you decide you don’t regret not wearing a bra before going out earlier. She gives them a gentle push, and you feel slick between your thighs when she pulls your shirt up to your shoulders. You groan ever so quietly, and Jolyne - bright eyes taking in every bit of you, loving your reactions - almost growls at the sound. 

She mostly delights herself in just admiring your body, at first. You feel rightfully exposed under her gaze, but in a way that you welcome warmly. She traces every contour of your body with her curious, fiery gaze, frequently coming to rest on your chest. The hunger in her eyes in undeniable and, damn, was it hot.

“Look at you, baby. I live for all this,” she praises after a beat, and her hand drags over your sternum and then slides a finger down the valley of your chest. You shudder at the sensation, your back arching in a small wave. She grins once again, then runs her hand back up your sides and across your collarbones, slow and tantalizing. “You’re just so gorgeous and sensitive… ooh, and I bet you’re dripping wet already, too, huh? Just from having my hands on you?”

Fuck, that got you. 

Your hand, resting lightly on her hip, tenses some and it does not go unnoticed. 

“Wh-What on earth makes you think you already have me that bothered,” you grumble, practically posing a statement instead of a question. In truth, you weren’t sure how to respond to her — but you could make a pretty good guess, considering how your time together had been going. She had you wrapped around her pretty fingers. “You’ve barely started. It’s been mostly sappy talk till now.”

Jolyne cocks her brow, then scoffs as lovingly as one can. “I know how you are, cutie. You make short work of yourself waaay before I can really touch you,” she stops for a moment, then something crosses her face before asking, smug and unrelenting, “Now, is that an invitation for me to investigate?” Her shoulder rolls slightly to reach back, threatening to search for your core somewhere beneath her. 

Without thinking, you shift a little under her and make a desperate grab for her hand to fill the now-chilly empty space on your chest again before she can make it very far. A dangerous smirk spreads over her face.

“Ooh, needy. So that’s how it is today, hmm?” she taunts, bringing her hand forward again and ghosting a thumb over your hardening nipples. She rubs a gentle circle over it a couple times, then finishes it off with a sturdy pinch, tugging somewhat. You gasp and buck hopelessly up into her, not finding pressure in the right spot, then you force your hand up to place it over hers as you wince. Jolyne laughs a little, touching your cheek fondly with her other hand. She intertwines her fingers with the hand holding yours for a moment, then lowers herself to your neck.

Jolyne presses a few kisses thereabout, kneading and groping your chest arrhythmically and chuckling when you whine and whimper, then ducks down to wrap color-smudged lips around one of your nipples and sucks gently. You feel her teeth graze the bud on occasion, and every now and then she’ll tease you with the tip of her tongue or push you closer with a soft yet definitive bite. Sometimes she draws away just to kiss or suck on the warm skin around your areola; never enough to seriously bruise, but not rarely leaving a mark. Whichever breast isn’t occupied by her mouth at the time receives the gentle brushing of her thumb over the blossomed bud. She has you hopelessly aroused, tender nipples almost aching from the attention, and you thread your fingers through her hair to get her attention. 

“Jojo, I want you t— “ Shit. She looks up at you with half-lidded, gorgeous eyes and terribly smeared lipstick, moving the attention away from your sore breast after a couple reassuring kisses to any marks she left, and it catches you completely off guard.

“Hmm? You want what, babe? Do I need to back o-”

“No! N-No, please don’t stop, it’s just. I want you to…y’know.”

“I do not, no. But I could probably guess,” Wryly, Jolyne kisses you and brushes her thumb over your lips. “Why don’t you tell me what you want, baby girl, just in case?”

You never had a way with words, and trying to figure out how to tell her to do such lewd things, to touch you more, to eat you out, to slide those beautiful long fingers in you and give you what you need proved to be…well. Difficult, to say the least.

“C-Can you…” Nope. “I need-” Also no. “...touch me?” Yikes.

Jolyne was never big on torturing you, or even being degrading — she loved you a bit too fondly to go that far — but suddenly, you just seemed to be asking for a fair taunting.

“I’m already touching you, sweetheart. C’mon, just tell me.”

You breathe deep, wanting to complain that she knows what you mean, as Jolyne encouragingly strokes your cheek, then grabs your breast and gives your nipple a pinch yet again. A huffy whine escapes your lips, your back arching again just so. Jolyne looks amused.

“I...want your hands on me. I-In me. And I want you to…taste me?”

She raises her eyebrows and smirks. “You want me to taste you?” she asks, pressing for details, “Why, that could mean anything.” With a smug look coating her face, she kisses your cheek. “You taste alright there-”

She was driving you crazy. “Jolyne! Just- just….e-eat me out, please?”

Jolyne looks far too delighted as she kisses your lips one last time and scoffs, a smile still gracing her features. “Pfft. Whore.” Then, thoughtfully, “That makes two of us though.”

You laugh at that, short and distracted. Part of you hated how turned on the whore comment made you; the other part knew that, given the situation, it didn't matter that much. Jolyne eases herself down, settling her hips between your knees after tugging your pants down and off your legs. She presses two fingers against you, feeling you through your underwear, then grins and bites her lip. “Oh my god, you’re adorable. I was right. So, so wet already, huh?”

Knowing her, she was twice as soaked as you were.

Jolyne tugs the fabric of your dampened underwear to the side. She swipes her finger up your entrance a couple times, loving the warmth and wetness of your folds. You were so ready for her, and she loved being the cause for all your pleasure. You feel her thigh and hip tremble slightly farther down your body. Clearly, she was enjoying herself. 

She slides that same finger in slowly, your sex taking her entirely too easily, and after a couple pumps she slips another in and presses her thumb to your clit. You can only gasp, hand darting to her head and gripping a fistful of her hair. Jolyne groans and looks up to your face. 

“Someone’s having fun,” she practically sings. Her fingers curl just so and search for that spot that absolutely wrecks you; and Jolyne knows damn well when she finds it. 

Your thighs tense and you can't stop the moan falling from your lips, followed only by a breathy whine. Her fingers working a bit rougher at the sound, Jolyne winces and pants somewhat. “That’s a good girl, yes please, baby doll,” she says dreamily. Her mind was getting ever so hazy, and she was hopelessly wet from watching you squirm and hearing every noise you made.

You feel her buck into nothing between your legs upon hearing another of your moans and the lewd, sloppy sounds of her fingers pumping through you, and she's shifting uncomfortably for a moment after. Through lidded eyes, you watch her pull her fingers out, suck on them briefly, then take a moment to bring her hand to her own region and grind against it briefly.

“God, if I had my strap,” she huffs, voice dripping with lust as she finally pulls your underwear down and off, then settles in once more with her head at your waist, “it would be Smashville for you, babe. One way ticket.”

You laugh through labored breaths and roll your eyes, then spread your legs and reach forward to touch her head. “Th-That's the lamest thing you’ve ever said,” you mutter. Her fine hands slide under you, rounding the space between your thighs and ass. She winks up at you and bumps her shoulders in a half shrug. “And yet, here you are, still seconds from doing the splits ‘cuz your legs are so wide.”

…She had a point.

Jolyne breathes deep, then presses a handful of slow, full kisses to your inner thighs, inching closer towards your entrance with each one but never quite getting close enough. Each kiss drives you closer to an invisible edge, and you squirm and gasp when she pauses right next to your slot to kiss even deeper before moving to the other thigh. It’s obvious Jolyne is smiling more and more as she goes along; your heart swells at the intimacy of it all.

Just as she inches close again, you groan loud and gasp her name, and your legs shift to make room for her face, expecting her to move on. A beat skips, and Jolyne suddenly makes a frustrated noise and presses her face into one of your thighs. It’s oddly endearing, but still startling and concerning, and you have to stop the giggle in your throat to check on her.

“J-Jojo, is everything-”

Another groan.

Then, a muffled something.

“...what?”

She tilts her head to look at you from your thigh, a smile spread from ear to ear. “You’re just so fucking cuuute! Shit dude, I dunno, I haven’t even gotten that far and I’m trying to focus on going down on you, but you keep being adorable and I can’t stop smiling! Cut it out!”

Of course that’s a problem.

“What? I didn't do-”

One of Jolyne’s hands slip out from under you, dramatically covering her mouth as she rolls to one side somewhat, her eyes squinting shut. She moans out loud through her hand, whiny and mocking. “‘Mm, Jolyne! Oh, ahh, no, Jojo, please!’”

“I do NOT sound like that.” you grumble, flushed face heating up further at her theatrics.

“You literally just did it, baby. Not to mention -- I am very acquainted with what you sound like.” She looks more proud of herself than she ever has before, then her face softens as she slips her hand back around your thigh and preps herself to enter again. “Ready, sweetheart?” she asks, patting your leg somewhat and kissing under your belly button.

You nod, aching to finally feel her tongue against you. Jolyne takes a breath, then presses a light kiss to your clit followed by a dart of her tongue. Electricity courses through you, but before you can process it further, she continues. Her tongue laps just against the outside of your folds, faint and gentle and teasing, and it has you shuddering and gripping the blanket laid out on the grass. 

One, two, three more light licks, the best kisses she can manage along the vertical, a brief kiss then suckle on your clit. When you jerk in her direction, she gives your clit just a couple more indulgent small, quick licks. Her hands grip your hips as she angles your pelvis up just enough and draws you closer to her. 

You feel your mind pass the hazy stage and go straight to absent as Jolyne finally dips her tongue in you, the shallow depth entirely too exciting. She grunts and moans, something that sounds like it got mixed with a snicker on the way out, and you move to grab her hair again. The work her tongue is doing has you feeling like you're on another planet. 

Each incoherent shape made with the flicks of her tongue, each break for a long, slow lick, each time her nose bumps your clit-- they drive you mad. Anytime you moan than a whisper or call her name you feel Jolyne fight a smile. She hits a particularly good stroke and you cry out louder than you anticipate, and when she sends vibrations through you with the snicker she lets out by accident you feel twice as wet as you did before. 

Somewhere in you, a familiar string is tightening. You gather the strength to give Jolyne’s head an encouraging rub then clutch her hair again. “H-Hey, Sir Laughs-A-Lot, I’m close-” you manage, your breath heavy. Jolyne hums a response, then pulls herself slightly closer to get in deep. You throw your head back and your thighs clench and you do your best to not squeeze them together and smother Jolyne between your legs as you come hard. Jolyne gives a couple slow, long licks to help you ride your climax out before planting one last small kiss against your folds and pulling herself away from your sex.

Lust and exhaustion lid her darkened eyes, your arousal coating her entire chin. She gives you a wet kiss, then wipes her face with the corner of the blanket and collapses on top of you with her head on your chest. You were both exhausted in the best way possible, and the feeling of Jolyne’s fingers gingerly rubbing your collarbone as she sighs dreamily makes you feel like you could fall asleep right in this park. 

“You did so well, Jojo. Thanks,” you whisper against her hair. You feel her cheek push against your chest in a smile. “Thank you,” Jolyne mutters back, “for the meal. Everything was delicious, chef.” 

Oh god. “If you ever talk about my pussy like it's a five star restaurant meal again, we’re gonna have a problem.”

“Damn, you’re right. We don't have nearly enough money for a wedding anytime soon....” she mumbles, sighing.

You roll your eyes. As much as you hated to admit it, it was really funny; you were just entirely too tired to appreciate it.

The sky above shows a different scene than you remember seeing before your….adventures. Clouds had meandered along their horizons, trudging along like ships at sea. The moon had traveled quite a bit, partially hidden by a dusky cloud, and tree frogs croak and croon from somewhere distant. 

“We should probably get home,” you whisper, dragging your hand across her back and kissing her head. 

Jolyne heaves a dramatic sigh and kisses your collarbone. “Yeah, I guess…I had a great time tonight, baby. Thanks for letting me drag ya out here. We should come back for a picnic or some shit another time when it's light out.” She pauses, and you feel something sly change in her before she even speaks. “We could set up somewhere kinda set apart, have our lunch...mmm, and if it was too hot out we could lose some clothes-” 

Your mind falters imagining it, Jolyne’s sweating, toned body pulling her shirt off to reveal nothing more than a bra and lots of muscle, faux innocence in her eyes when she taunts you with “what’s wrong, baby girl?”, the way her hands would rest on your body after urging you to lose your clothes as well, the inevitable contact between the two of you -- 

“...and you would suck on these pretty tits to keep your mouth shut, and if we got caught…I mean. I’ve been arrested before. It’s not that bad. Might even be worth it.” She winks up at you as if everything she just said wasn't vile and vulgar as all hell. The horrified-yet-intrigued look on your face makes Jolyne smirk, and she pats your stomach twice before sitting up and helping you with your clothes. You gather the blanket in your arms and walk back to the car, a weird sense of calm washing over you both. Jolyne turns the key and grabs your hand, pressing a light kiss against it before putting the car into drive and starting the ride back home.

You knew you would both crash as soon as you got into bed, and in the morning you’d be too tired to do much of anything. Jolyne’s father wasn't due home for a couple of days; you’d have the house to yourselves with no concerns. You wanted to shower with her in the morning, you think, then cuddle up in comfy clothes and sit in each other's arms and Jolyne would come up with some silly game to play or turn on a cheesy horror movie. But for now, all you had was the hum of the engine, the static-ridden radio, and Jolyne’s hand in yours, and you didn't want anything more.

#'atlas this is messy' BIG oh well #jolyne cujoh #jolyne x reader #jjba #jjba fanfic #my writing #not sfw #hmmmm i like this one but nerves #'atlas this is STILL ooc' oh well #i've reread this so many times for clarity and errors askjfhbsjk

[unholyhelbig]

Hizzie Prompt... Ok so Lizzie has to deal with Hope while in heat or during a blood moon

Read on Ao3 | Send me more Legacies Prompts! 

Title: Uncharted Waters 

Ship: Hope Mikaelson/ Lizzie Saltzman 

[A/N: I will be the absolute first to admit that I got a little carried away with the plot here, I really enjoy the disgruntled lifeguard thing. So that means this could totally get a part two if you guys want!] 

The day held a soft golden hue to it, spilling onto the scalding cement and glinting expertly against the choppy artificial waves that started at one end of the pool and pushed to the section that Lizzie was stationed at. She had the liberty of a sun-stained umbrella and a bout of shade that did nothing to quell the heat of the summer wind.

Cool Waves Summer Adventure Park was the bane of her existence. For the cheap wage of seven dollars an hour she would rise before the sun and leave when the night was finally cooling off. Everything smelled like cheap spray tan and sunscreen, and the occasional puddle of vomit. But her father insisted that she keep the position as a lifeguard if she wanted to keep that nice 1969 Chevy Camaro that a family friend had given her.

So she sat at the far end of the pool, day in and day out, watching for lazy parents that tip too far on the rafts, or for their demon kids who would drink the chlorine infused water. Occasionally she would have days like this; where it was crowded and the sun was more irritating than anything.

“Sir I don’t know how to explain this to you in any other way. The coupon you have isn’t even for our park. I couldn’t give you half-off at the snack shack even if I wanted to.”

If the customer in front of her wasn’t already sunburnt, she could see his bald head shifting through three shades of red. He frowned and removed his sunglasses because maybe that would make him look more intimidating, but really it just paid tribute to how many times he had fallen asleep by the side of the ocean. He had the measly paper clenched between his fist.

“Maybe if you went to the snack shack, they could help.” She tried weakly. It was dirty, she knew, pushing the disgruntled father off towards another department. But she was a lifeguard and nowhere near the food stand. “I’m sure they could give you something.”

He sputtered, not happy with the answer. “I want to talk to your supervisor, Josie.”

She glanced down at the white logoed shirt that hugged her closely, damp with sweat. He had used her name to drive a point, but she had grabbed the wrong nametag this morning on her way out the door. Another misstep that she would have to make up to her sister somehow in the next few days.

Lizzie opened her mouth to respond but halted to a stop when the sharp cut of a whistle captured both of their attentions. It wasn’t Lizzie’s hers still hung lazily around her neck, collecting heat like a beacon.

It was easy to spot an accident, she learned that her fourth day on the job when part of the Black Vulture came loose and the large waterslide was shut down faster than an ambulance could arrive to haul away the kid who got a few bruises.

People tended to clear and gawk instead of doing what they could to help. Right now there was a steady circle in the middle of the water and something, someone, thrashing around in the deeper end of the pool. Lizzie could feel her heart in her chest and suddenly didn’t care much about arguing with a disgruntled patron.

She moved quickly past the umbrella, and the chair, shoving both of her hands against the large red button that screamed: IN CASE OF EMERGENCY. It didn’t do much of course, but it did bring the motor that created waves in the pool to a screeching halt. They had never used it before.

And then there was the girl, the one who blew the whistle in the first place. Hope Mikaelson didn’t bother shedding away her shirt or pulling the walkie-talkie from the waistband of her annoyingly tight shorts. Instead, she jumped into the pool with expert speed and precision.

Lizzie rushed down the cement steps, hand running across the scalding metal railing. “10-10 wave pool.” She knew her words were breathy over the radio, and she knew even more than that, that this wasn’t just a possible drowning. It was laid out clear and plain in front of her but her scrambled mind couldn’t get a grasp on the correct code.

Hope had pulled the young girl from the far end of the pool and onto the edge by the time that Lizzie had gotten there. They were both dripping and she had linked her hands together, placing them in the center of the young girl's chest, lips blue.

“Where the hell were you?” Hope snarled, squaring her shoulders and applying pressure in intervals. Her mouth moved while she counted before she said: “Help me, Saltzman.”

Lizzie didn’t need to be told twice. She was careful, listening to Hope count out the last five intervals before she lilted the girls chin up and blew just enough air into her lungs to push them outwards. She did this twice before Hope started pressing against her chest again.

Everything had slowed and by the time Hope alerted her of her position, Lizzie was ready to lean forward again. The girl coughed violently, a mix of bile and water pushed from her lips and a healthy dose of color returned to her cheeks.

“Stand back, both of you” Lizzie was shoved to a standing position as the real medical team got there, heeding her shout over the radio. The on-call medic pressed two gloved fingers to the edge of the girls throat for a pulse, despite her lucidity. “It’s a good thing you were here.”

“Where else would I be?” Hope asked, her words dripped of acid and her stare burned like a flame. Lizzie frowned.

“That’s not fair, I was dealing with another situation.”

“Yeah, so was I but I always keep on eye on the pool, Lizzie. That’s basic lifeguarding.” Hope started to walk to the main office shoving past her, shoulder wet and cold as she dripped onto the dry pavement. “Get it together.”

Lizzie wanted to call after her just like she had wanted to rip that guy's coupon to shreds and push him into the shallow end. But she bit her tongue until she could taste blood again before turning her attention back to the medic and the young girl who sat at the edge of the still water.

“You were really lucky that Hope was there.” MG struggled with the combination of his lock. He had been at it for a good fifteen minutes, but with no luck. Lizzie considered the fact that he had the wrong locker altogether, but she resorted to pulling on a sweatshirt, not wanting to stare at that stupid logo of the penguin holding a beach ball anymore.

“But why was she there?” Lizzie asked, earning a patronizing stare. “Not that I’m not thankful. That girl is totally alive because of her. But last time I checked, the almighty Hope Mikaelson was stationed at Hurricane falls, all the way on the other end of the park.”

He pulled down on the lock one final time and it clicked open fluidly. “Yes! Alyssa said she wasn’t feeling well so she was going to take a break in the shade. Hope kind of blew up on her.”

“Yeah, me too.”

Lizzie let the conversation fizzle in the air as MG collected his stuff from the locker, shoving his car keys in the slim pockets of his shorts. Though she thought that the girl had a hero Complex, Hope was anything but violent. Never one with a short fuse and always liked by every single supervisor including Alyssa.

The two of them strolled out into the nearly desolate park, breathing in the hot air. It had cooled off significantly from the afternoon and the usually pitch-black path was lit by an oddly orange light, a curved half-moon in the sky.

“Would you look at that?” MG stared up at it and blinked “Kind of cool,”

Blood Moons weren’t cool, not the full ones anyway. Not in Lizzie Saltzman’s household. She wasn’t an expert in the supernatural by any means, but she had found enough old and dusty books in her mother’s stuff to know that the energy around them was anything but pleasant. That the world was better off forgetting anything like that existed in the first place.

Over the years she and Josie had tried to ask their parents about it, about the old stories and the reason they had all of that stuff in the first place but they were shut out each time. Because magic didn’t really exist, and neither did the creatures that basked in its light.

“Oh, shoot-“ Lizzie patted down her person, “I forgot my keys. Go on without me.”

MG hesitated, his features soft in the darkened crimson light. “You’re sure?”

She nodded, sure of herself. Nothing bad happened here, not this late at night when all the bloodthirsty tourists had retired for fancy dinners by the ocean’s edge. Even if something did happen, the park was littered with cameras, and she was confident.

Lizzie parted ways with him and the two of them walked in opposite directions. Him towards the parking lot and her towards the main building, filled with offices and the employee locker rooms, lined with metal and eerily silent at this time of night.

The air was thick and wet with steam and the scent of soap, unlike it had been moments ago. She felt sweat collect instantly against her skin. They had showers lining the far end, something that had never been converted from the park's original design. But no one ever used them.

Lizzie silently crept towards her locker and started to struggle with her combination just like MG had. Her fingers were shaking, and she was starting to think coming back here on her own was her worst idea yet. But finally, she got enough advantage to snatch them and closed it softly, turning, but halting.

Her body came in contact with another, so quiet and smelling fresh like lavender body wash. Not the usual chemical scent that they all carried home with them like a badge. She felt the soft edge of a towel under her fingertips and slammed her back against the cold metal of the lockers.

“Jesus Christ Hope, you scared the hell out of me!” Lizzie felt her heart in her throat once more but for a different reason than before. Not adrenaline, not fear- something else entirely that she couldn’t’ pinpoint.

Hope was wrapped tightly in a dark green towel, or maybe it was black, she couldn’t tell over the soft light that flooded the bathroom like split blood. It shaded the girls features, sharp and different. Her hair was damp.

“Oh?” She cocked a perfect brow “Should I start wearing a bell, Saltzman?”

“Yeah, maybe. What are you doing here so late anyway?”

Hope raked her gaze up and down Lizzie’s frame before landing back on her stare. “I could ask you the same question.”

“I forgot my keys.” She jingled them like a prize, swallowing the way her hair raised on end, goosebumps prickling. “Hey, I wanted to apologize about earlier today. It pains me to admit it, but you were right. I should have been paying more attention.”

The Mikaelson girl nodded thoughtfully and pulled the towel closer to her, suddenly moving an inch of a step back. Hope frowned and Lizzie couldn’t tell if it was about what she had said or the sudden loss of heat in the air. The light had shifted, hidden behind nothing but a wisp of a cloud.

“Uh, yeah.” Hope cleared her throat and blinked dumbly and took another step back. “Don’t worry about it. You should probably get home.”

Lizzie stared at the girl and the way she pulled into herself against the darkness of the locker room. It hung in the air and her fingers tightened against the edge of her keys. She knew she should wait for Hope, should offer her a ride home or politely walk her to her car- but she didn’t. Instead, she nodded slowly.

“See you tomorrow?”

Hope averted her stare, “yeah, sure thing.”

#lizzie x hope #lizzie saltzman #hope mikaelson #hizzie #Hizzie fanfic #requests #Legacies #legacies fanfiction #legacies fanfic

[rae-gar-targaryen]

only as alone as i wanna be | [bh]

A/N: Well instead of working on my Peter Parker writing challenge fic, Billy Hargrove won’t leave my brain alone. So here we go. 

I’ve retconned the Billy & Max relationship a bit for this, so it’s a lil au. Sorry!

Please let me know if you think I should continue!

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x fem!Reader (I’m still trying to get the hang of writing for the “reader.” Hopefully this is vague enough that you can imagine yourself. If not, send me feedback so I can get better!) 

Warnings: Language. Passing, vague mentions of sex. Some Billy Hargrove chain-smoking. Bad writing with a jumpy plot. Seriously, I think I’m way too abrupt. Please send feedback. This one is probably doomed for a re-write. 

Word Count: 2.4k of nonsensical, self-important musical references and haphazard, fleeting feelings.

Summary: The snarky record store girl does not like Billy Hargrove. Not at all. 

**NOT MY GIF!** 

—

Winter, 1984

The bell dinged above the door, a jarring interval between the wistful tones of Siouxsie and the Banshees’ Take Me Back. Prompting you to look up from your stack of records in mild annoyance. It had been such a productive day until now, and the vinyl wasn’t going to restock itself. 

Well. 

Had you known Mr. Born-In-The-USA-Bruce-Springsteen himself was going to walk in, you would’ve played something far less his taste than Siouxsie. Just to annoy him. Serves him right, right? 

He paused in the doorway of the shop, wrinkling his nose almost imperceptibly as the sound hit his ears, before striding on toward the “Pop/Rock” section of the store, thumbing his way through Motley Crue’s latest.

Figures, you thought. A man who douses himself with as much commercial-ass hairspray and cologne would like some commercial-ass garbage “metal.” Besides, you’d walked past the blue Camaro enough times in the school parking lot to hear the dulcet tones of whatever bland-ass hair metal he was currently into trying its best to blast the doors off of his beloved metal steed. 

You felt a twinge of guilt. You shouldn’t judge the customers for their musical taste so quickly– but between the old church ladies who came in for Handel’s Messiah or whatever they had heard over public radio that week, and the girls from your class riffing on Madonna, you had had just about enough. 

Hadn’t anyone experienced the true depth of Queen? Keep Yourself Alive, man!

You had been working at Hawkins’ local record store during the summers since childhood – Old Mr. Cohen who owned the place used to let you sort tapes into piles for cents on the hour until you were old enough for a real job. Immersed in the music since a young age, you appreciated the breadth and depth the shop had to offer– your favorites developing into pieces heavy on synth. Bonus points if the lyrics made you feel especially existential. You loved that moody shit. 

Now, at 17, you practically ran the place, Mr. Cohen comfortable with leaving you to your devices at the store, so long as the till was counted and inventory was properly stocked. You were grateful for the freedom– squeezing homework into slow nights and chatting about deeper portions of discography with regulars.

Billy Hargrove was not a regular. Neither did he promise a slow night, if the rumors amongst your female classmates were to be believed. Not that you partook in the Hawkins High rumor mill. 

He was a recent, but obtrusive, arrival in your high school’s social scene. Mere months into his appearance in your town and the age-in-kind female population had seemingly lost their brain cells faster than inhaling their usual clouds of hairspray could do it for them. 

Still, you had to admit, he was good-looking. The Springsteen comparison was apt. Billy Hargrove wore jeans like he was doing the denim a favor. His shirts usually two-thirds of the way unbuttoned, even in winter, which was not an unkind sight. His sun-kissed, California boy skin stood a stark contrast to the pallor of the Indiana natives you grew up with. His eyes were crystalline and swam like oceans of trouble and broken promises. 

My god. You were a moody-ass bitch. Waxing poetic about this jock-strap of a human being who you’d heard pummelled Steve Harrington and nearly drowned himself in beer and barely-legal pussy. Come on, babe. Get it together.

He strode up to you at the counter, his boots clunking against the store’s tiled floor. Shout at the Devil was clutched in his fist. 

He dropped the vinyl on the counter, eyes cast down and swiping a cigarette out of the packet in his jacket pocket and lighting up, the clink-thwip of his lighter meeting your ears before you could tell him to put it out. 

“You can’t do that in here,” you told him. 

He hummed in not-acknowledgment-acknowledgment, choosing to ignore you as he inhaled deeply.

“Seriously, dude. Old man Cohen hates that shit. Put it out or go outside and finish it. If your tits don’t freeze off. Since they’re, you know, halfway out of your shirt like that? You do know it’s December. In Indiana. Right?” You pressed, knowing full well you were being obnoxious. If only to make a point. Game recognize game, right? 

He looked up, ocean eyes meeting your own. His frown was instantaneous. 

“Fine,” he huffed. Before promptly stubbing out his cigarette on your freshly wiped counter, dropping the butt to the floor and twisting it under his booted heel.

“Ugh. Come on, man. I have to clean that now.” 

“You were so adamant about it before.” 

“Whatever man. Just the Motley Crue for you today?” You pressed. Why is he prolonging this interaction?

He rolled his eyes, his line of sight catching on the promotional sign above the counter. 

“Well, now, that says new vinyl is two for one. Which one can I get with this?” 

You dropped your head and exhaled deeply– So this was how this evening was going to go. You gestured at the New Release wall to the left of the front counter. 

“Anything from here, Pretty Boy. New vinyl.” 

Cool as you please, if you please.

Billy glanced at you, sensing your annoyance. A smirk graced his lips. He knew if he prolonged this interaction it would surely get a rise out of you.  

He held up Burning From the Inside, Bauhaus’s latest release. New, but not new.

“What about this one? Cover art is alright.” He gestured at the gothica aesthetic adorning the front jacket.

“That’s Bauhaus,” you informed him, as though that would explain everything.

“Bauhaus? What is that?” 

You snorted. 

“No, seriously. What is that? Is that like … a sex thing?” he asked, derisively. 

“It’s not a sex thing. It’s more of a not-your-kind-of-thing thing,” you stated primly. 

“And how would you know what my thing is, princess? I’m guessing by the black-on-black and torn fishnets you’d be all to familiar with whatever a Bauhaus is,” he retorted.

“Well….” You went to the used pile and grabbed Press Eject and Give Me the Tape, before putting it over the speakers. As Bela Lugosi’s Dead started to play throughout the store, Billy looked unamused. 

“They broke up last year. Gone too soon,” you explained, wistfully. You put your hand over your heart as though in mourning. 

He leaned one arm on the counter, Motley Crue seemingly long forgotten. 

“So, what is this song?”

“Bela Lugosi’s Dead? Like, Stairway to Heaven, but for goths, I guess,” you reasoned. “I’m guessing you’re more of a Scorpions kind of guy? We have Love At First Sting,” you gestured vaguely toward the wall. 

Billy quirked an eyebrow at you. 

“And how would you know what kind of guy I am, princess?” His voice lowering as he leans even further over the counter.

“Um. If the female population at our school is to be believed? Well, you get it…” you trailed off. “Plus, I don’t know, have you looked in a mirror lately? Scratch that. You probably don’t stop looking in mirrors. Should I cover the reflective surfaces in the store, lest you get distracted?” 

Billy at least had the decency to look shocked at your barb. 

But not before recovering quickly. 

“Maybe you just cover the reflective surfaces in here to hide the fact that you don’t have a reflection,” he quipped.

You were stunned. Your eyes widened.

“Was that a– vampire joke, Hargrove?”

Billy shrugged. “Well, If the post-punk bullshit shoe fits… I mean, what even is playing over the speakers right now? I’m in here enough to know Cohen lets his employees pick the music from the Used pile during their shifts. Though clearly I don’t come in often enough during your shifts.”

“Thank God for that,” you sighed. 

Deciding he’d had enough of the banter, Billy snagged Black Flag’s latest off of the New Release wall. 

“Two for one, right?” he snarked, slapping down enough cash for one album before grabbing his findings off of the counter and striding out into the wintery evening– the bell over the door clanging after him for good measure. Like an exclamation point on whatever the ever loving fuck that conversation was. Did you— offend him??

You decided, sweeping up the not-forgotten ash from his cigarette off the floor that you didn’t ever need to have an interaction with Billy Hargrove again. You were most decidedly not post-punk bullshit.

–

Billy Hargrove had never been so ruffled in all of his life. 

Throwing the two vinyl sleeves down in the passenger seat of his beloved Camaro, he slammed the door behind him.

Clink-Thwip.

Billy lit up, the chemical rush of his deep inhale-exhale instantly soothing his frazzled nerves. 

He flicked the lid of his lighter a few more times, for good measure. A nervous habit. Clink-Thunk. Clink-Thunk. Clink-Thunk. 

“ ‘Never stop looking in a mirror,’ my ass,” he grumbled, meeting his eyes in the rear-view before realizing what he was doing and looking away. 

He’d seen that girl before. She sat alone in the cafeteria most times, headphones on, reading a book. She seemed like the type to enjoy Slyvia Plath. Not that he knew enough about Slyvia Plath to really know what that type of girl was. He swore his mom owned a coverworn copy of some novel or another with that name on it. 

He drove away, tires squealing behind him, hair metal blasting from his speakers. Okay, so maybe you’d been right about his musical taste. It’s not like he’d give you the satisfaction. Besides, he’d bought BLACK FLAG, for Christ’s sake. You didn’t know him. 

But still, he couldn’t deny, there was something about your demeanor. Your witticism. Your bad type. And yeah, maybe he’d sneaked a peek at your ass when you came around from the counter to scold him for smoking. Sue him, he was only human. 

He knew there was more to you. A sweet undertone– like peaches and cream. Also maybe he liked ruffling your proverbial feathers. Just maybe. 

He had asked Tommy about you at school the next day. 

Tommy shrugged, but not before looking over at the corner of the cafeteria where you sat. 

“I don’t know man. She’s hot. But, like, in the way weird girls are hot. You can look, but touching may cost you.” 

Billy didn’t know what that meant. But Tommy was literally too stupid to insult. So he bit back a comment effectuating that he didn’t care and slammed the rest of his can of Coke. 

–

You had seen him before. From his tire-squealing entry into your town, you were certain you’d had him pegged from Jump Street. The chain-smoking, that infernal clink-twhip of his American Flag lighter. The keg stands. The raucous screaming in Steve Harrington’s face.

“Plant your feet, Harrington!”

Plant your feet indeed. Lest you be bowled over with unwanted, obtrusive thoughts of the potential depths of Billy Hargrove’s soul. If such a thing existed.

Seriously, though. Why would he buy a Black Flag album? If there was one thing Billy Hargrove was not, you decided, it was punk rock. 

You’d seen him take his sister to the arcade, and wait for her after school. Was it brotherly affection that motivated these little Babysitter’s Club moments, or was he forced to? Still, you saw the way that girl on the skateboard looked up at her seemingly cool older brother. Like he hung the stars. 

He did brush off Tina after the basketball game last week. And, he bought Black Flag. That man had never listened to Black Flag in all of his life. You were sure of it.

Could he really be all bad? 

–

The semester pressed on. Billy Hargrove at the fringe of your thoughts and your eye-line. Was he trying to talk to you in school?

You had the closing shift at the store again on Saturday. You were in the midst of carrying a box of tapes up the stairs from the storage room when you heard the ding of the bell above the door. You sighed, put the box down, and made your way toward the front to greet the customer. Upon seeing the back of Billy Hargrove’s perfectly coiffed, curly head, you were ready to turn back around and act like you hadn’t seen him. Too late. He clearly knew you were working. 

“Please don’t let it be you,” you groaned. 

“No promises, dollface.” 

You stood in front of him, hands on your hips. 

“So? What can I do for you?”

Billy smirked. “I can think of a few things, sweetheart,” he drawled, quirking a perfectly arched brow just so. You hated that you now noticed these things about Billy Hargrove’s perfectly stupid and stupidly perfect face. 

“I don’t have time for this, Pretty Boy.” 

“When are you off?” He asked.

“After close,” you said. 

“Go out with me.” Billy Hargrove said, now surely unsure of himself.

“And why in the ever-loving-fuck would I do that?” You had to hand it to yourself. You were doing a damn good job of looking like you didn’t care. Meanwhile, your insides were pudding and you were just sure he knew it, too.

“Because you want to. Because I want you to. Because– Because I want to. Because I listened to Black Flag. Because I get your whole thing, plaid skirt and all,” he stated, gesturing vaguely over your person. 

You rolled your eyes, choosing not to answer him. Instead, you diverted. Diversion is good, right?

“Where’s your usual crowd of hairsprayed hangers-on? Or are you always alone after school?”

“Only as alone as I wanna be, doll,” He drawled. 

You’d had to hand it to Billy Hargrove. He could definitely turn a phrase when he wanted to. His crystalline eyes could definitely see right through you. As the flush travelled through your body, taking in his artful smirk and powerful visage, you knew:

Billy Hargrove was going to be the death of you. Like the satisfyingly sweet pour of languid waves of syrup cascading over waffles, drowning you in a beautiful, thick avalanche of a saccharine dream. A powdered sugar kiss dusting over your better senses, coating them in the flush of dripping endearment. 

Surely you could be alone together? The crystal ball and the odyssey. 

Would you go?

tagging bc you inspire me:

@nappingtopknot @ayeayecaptaingally @hey-its-grey @tigerlilynoh @andallthatmishigas @oh-star-how-the-mighty-fall @youngmoneymilla @noturjacky  (If you don’t want to be tagged, feel free to ignore, or tell me firmly -- but possibly politely?? to fuck off) 

#billy hargrove fic #billy hargrove #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove x y/n #billy hargrove imagine #stranger things fic #stranger things #billy hargrove x you #billy hargrove x female reader #billy hargrove x oc #bad poetry #stranger things imagine #please be gentle #billy hargrove fanfiction #stranger things fanfiction #billy hargrove oneshot #billy hargrove one shot #billy hargrove fluff #stranger things s2 #stranger things s3 #dacre montgomery #dacre montgomery fic #dacre montgomery x reader #dacre montgomery imagine #dacre montgomery oneshot #only as alone is I wanna be

[edxwin-elric]

Darkest Roads - Ch. 3

Chapter 3: Sinners and Saints

Rating: T

Pairing: Edwin/Edward Elric x Winry Rockbell

Disclaimer: I don’t own Fullmetal Alchemist.

Total Work Count: 15k

Chapter Word Count: 6k

Title: Darkest Roads

Chapter Title: Sinners and Saints

Description: Edwin Street Race AU - Ed takes Winry for a drive in his car and things take a new turn in their relationship.

@fmabigbangs​

ffn || ao3 || tag

previous chapter

Edward

When I arrive back at the butcher shop, I notice a mysterious looking car parked in front as I’m carefully moving the bike into the alley. But I can’t worry about that. Weird cars or not, I know Izumi will be out here in two seconds to look for any damage I might’ve done.

Except she isn’t…

I wait for a minute before I frown and head inside, grabbing the notebook and carrier off the back along with the helmet. I drop my stuff by the door and move toward the front, stopping in the small hallway when I hear voices.

“Well, if you see anything or hear anything suspicious, please give us a call.”

I crane my neck a little and see a blonde lady in a blue suit handing Sig a business card.

“Also, are you sure Edward Elric won’t be here today? I have on record that he’s an employee here, and I have a few questions I’d like to ask him.”

Cold runs down my back, and I feel my jaw clench. I know that voice. It’s that bastard detective, Mustang. The one who approached me a few weeks ago about making me a C.I. and having me flip on members of the Devil’s Nest (plus anyone else I see committing crimes on the Lane). I told him to fuck off, so I can only imagine what he wants to talk about now.

“I already told you he’s out on a delivery run. I’m not sure when he’ll be back,” Izumi answers with a firm but pleasant tone.

“Well, I’m going to leave my card, too, if you’ll pass it along to him.”

“I’ll see that he gets it.”

And I’ll see that it gets immediately lost in the bio waste (aka the pig blood).

I continue waiting out of sight until the two detectives are safely outside and in their car.

“You can come out, Ed,” Izumi calls almost immediately, and I step into the main room, behind the counter.

“What did they want?”

“They were just checking around with local businesses to see if we’d seen or heard anything about the Saints of Ishval,” Sig chimes in grimly. “Apparently, their leader, Scar, has been causing trouble.”

“And who can blame them,” Izumi huffs as she begins violently chopping meat on the butcher block. “Local government has been passing mandates left and right that specifically target Ishvalan neighborhoods. It’s ridiculous.”

“They have a right to be upset about that,” Sig agrees calmly, “but it’s no reason to become violent with random citizens or even unprovoked law enforcement. Violence never solves anything.”

“I disagree,” Izumi snaps back bringing the cleaver down again. “Self-defense and survival often call for a bit of violence.”

Sig shakes his head and rubs his hand over her shoulder. “You know what I meant.”

“Oh, also,” she calls to me, in a not-subtle way of changing the subject, “the dark haired one asked about you.”

“I heard,” I grimace. “He approached me once before about…something. I bet it was that again. I’m still not interested though.”

“Well, I told him I’d give you this.”

She pulls off her gloves and grabs a business card out of her apron pocket. I take it and shove it in my back pocket, already timing the distance to the trash can to throw it out.

“If you finished those deliveries, you can do some inventory. It’s a pretty slow day,” she changes the subject. “That, or you can help me prep the fresh meat for display.” She nods to the bloody packages on ice behind her.

“I don’t mind doing inventory.”

It’s only for another half hour anyway, and I enjoy the silence back there.

“Only do the beef for now. I don’t want you in the freezer for too long, and that should be enough to get you started. Sig?”

“The stock count is on my desk. You can grab it before you go in. Come out front for a break after fifteen minutes, and I’ll see where you are then.”

“Yes, sir.” I nod and head to the office.

But my mind is still stuck on the Saints of Ishval. I mean, why would the cops think a the leader of a biker gang run out of the Southeast corner of the city would be harassing shop owners in a South-central neighborhood? Unless they’re moving on Devil’s Nest territory. I wonder how my new friend(?) in the Xingese District would feel about that. I mean, the Central underground has its variety of players, but usually they keep to their designated sections of town. The last time a border war—so to speak—broke out was when an Ishvalan child was killed by a cop from Central and all hell broke loose. The Ishvalan community has never really recovered, and the crime rate has only gone up.

“Ed!” Sig’s deep voice makes me jump. “You’d better be working in there! We don’t pay you to sit in a fridge and stare at meat!”

“Right. Yes, sir!” I yell back before reaching for the first shelf of beef and checking it against the list in my hand.

I shouldn’t be worrying about the Saints of Ishval right now. As much as the workings of the Central City underworld concern me, I wish they didn’t, and one day, I hope they don’t. If I want that to happen, I need to focus on my job. Checking the expiration dates on meat may not pay much, but it’s honest money, which is what I need if I’m going to afford groceries later.

Before I meet Winry at City Park.

Shit. I still have to go get her part from Donovan. I’ll have to do that after work but before groceries. I don’t want to be too close to the Lane when the sun sets or Greed will try to pull me into racing.

Swearing under my breath, I reach for another lump of meat and try to ignore the cold setting into the skin surrounding my automail anchors. Fuck, it’s going to be a long half hour.

Winry

I glance at my phone for the time and shift my weight, before shoving the device in my pocket. A chilly breeze makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up on end, and I rub my arms, looking around again for Edward. He was supposed to be here ten minutes ago, but so far, I haven’t seen him, and he hasn’t texted to say he was late or to reschedule or anything.

I walk around the waterless fountain and start to sit down on a bench when a car alarm goes off a few blocks away. My head whips toward the sound, and my heart freezes in my chest. The shock lasts about a second before I take a deep breath and scold myself for being so jumpy.

I’m paranoid, and I know it. The likelihood of anything happening in this park is really slim, but I can’t stop my mind from spinning wild scenarios now that I’m here. Alone. In the dark. Waiting for a boy I barely know to trade me a sort of illicit auto part in a sketchy exchange. With Paninya’s warning ringing in my ears, it’s impossible for me not to be skittish.

“Oh good. I found you.”

A short scream slips out of my mouth as I leap from my seat on the bench and whirl around.

“Hey, hey, it’s just me!” Ed hisses, holding his leather clad hands out. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I thought you heard me walk up.”

“Holy crap,” I whisper,  gasping as I shut my eyes with relief.

“I’m so sorry,” he goes on. “Fuck, I’m sorry for surprising you and for being late, actually.”

“I wasn’t sure you were coming,” I announce a little more coldly than I mean to as I straighten.

“I had to go by and get the part right before I came here. I was waiting on Donovan to finish his final check to make sure it was in perfect condition.”

“You have it?” I perk up at once. “Can I see it?”

He reaches up with one hand and rubs the back of his neck, wincing.

“What?” I frown.

“I’m not really supposed to give it to you until I have the money.”

“Well, I’m not sure I want to give you the money until I’ve looked at the part,” I counter, crossing my arms. “Why should I be the one who has to just believe you and Donovan didn’t rip me off?”

“Yeah…” He glances to the side. “ I guess that’s fair. Here.”

He nods to the bench, and I sit back down as he skirts the edge and takes the spot beside me. Taking the envelope of cash out of my coat, I set it in the space between us. He looks at it for a second, and I hold my breath, waiting for him to count it. I’m surprised when he doesn’t. Instead he pulls the part out of his jacket and holds it out to me.

“I watched him look over it with a high beam light and a magnifying glass,” he says quietly. “If you find something wrong with it, you can keep my thirty thousand cens.”

I raise an eyebrow and proceed to scan the part for any damage. When I can’t find any, I take a second envelope out of my coat and hold it out to Ed.

“What the fuck?” he mutters. “If this is the cash, what’s in that one? Were you bluffing?”

“No.” I shake my head. “This one is yours. The thirty thousand you just mentioned that I owe you.”

“What?” he blinks. “Really?”

“I told you I could pay you back,” I remind him. “What? You didn’t think I was serious.”

“Well, no, I mean, yes,” he sputters. “I just thought it would take you longer or–”

“I’m good with my money,” I explain over the end of his flailing sentence. “And I’m better with automail. I just don’t usually keep too much on hand. I only had what I had the other night because my friend suggested that much, but, obviously, she underestimated the price.”

“Yeah,” he mutters. “If I hadn’t been there to cover for you, things could’ve gone pretty bad.”

“Thanks again for that,” I whisper. “Anyway…” I stand and adjust the scarf at my neck. “It’s late, and if we’re done, I should probably be getting home.”

I glance over my shoulder toward the street, and hold back a sigh. I don’t know why I’m disappointed. This was only ever a business deal anyway.

“Wait.”

My head snaps back around, and I freeze as he stands and reaches for my hand.

“Don’t…don’t go yet.”

I look from our joined hands up to his face, my eyes wide with surprise.

“Why not?” I venture carefully. “There’s no reason I should stay…”

“What? Oh, fuck. I mean, yeah, you should probably leave…”

I notice his cheeks look pink in the dim light of the lamp posts, but I don’t say anything, even though he’s cute when he’s making a fool of himself.

“Do you…want me to stay?”

“What?” He flinches and looks up at me, dropping my hand. “I…uh, yeah, but–”

Before he can answer a loud roar of some kind of engine shatters the night. I look around, but can’t see anything even though the noise is getting closer.

“What is that?” I can’t keep the panic out of my voice, especially not after I see the look on Ed’s face.

“Motorcycle,” he mutters. “You need to go.”

“What? You just said–”

“Forget what I said,” he bites out as he grabs my hand and starts pulling me toward the entrance to the park. “Go home. Now. Don’t stop and don’t turn back.”

“I don’t understand,” I murmur. “Who is it? What do they want?”

“Nothing good.” He grimaces, and I feel cold slip into the folds of my coat.

“Okay.” I nod. “I’ll, um, text you when I get home.”

“Yeah. Sure.”

I tuck the rare auto part into my coat pocket and start down the block. I make it across the street and halfway up the next block when the roar of the engine overwhelms me. I turn toward it, and suddenly it’s coming right at me. Terror blasts through my veins and I duck my head, covering my ears as if that will somehow help.

It stops in front me me, the headlight blinding as the engines all cuts off. I blink as the headlight goes dark, leaving me shrouded in the light of the streetlamp and staring at a large dark blur dismounting the bike. I squint and make out a patch on the front of a leather cut.

The Saints of Ishval.

“Miss,” a rough voice comes from the dark figure and I take a step back.

“Who are you?”

A tall, muscular man steps out of the shadows, his face twisted with a frown and marred by an X shaped scar.

“I’ll ask the questions,” he rumbles. “What are you doing out so late all by yourself?”

“I…I…”

The auto part in my pocket suddenly feels heavier than before. Should I tell him the truth? Would it matter to him? Ed didn’t say why I should avoid them?

“I was taking a walk,” I stammer. “In the park.”

“This late? In winter?” His frown deepens, if that’s possible. “Alone?”

“Y-yes. I…” I lick my lips and feel my hands start trembling, and not from the cold.

“You what?”

He takes a step closer, and I take two backward, my back hitting the brick wall of a storefront.

“I, um… I’m–”

“She’s with me.”

Edward

The mountain sized man turns to look at me, and I curse myself for being this stupid. But I couldn’t just walk off and hope she made it home, so…I was following her. I would say it’s a good think I was since she’s been cornered by the leader of City’s most notorious biker gang, but I actually don’t know if I can get her out of this.

“And you are?”

“I’m Edward Elric,” I announce, as I move quickly toward Winry. “And that girl you’re scaring the fuck out of is my girlfriend.”

I see her eyes widen at the word, and I jerk my head at her, trying to get her to play along.

“Elric…” The giant turns to face me completely. “Don’t I know that name?”

“I…”

“Oh, yes, one of Greed’s racers,” he finishes before I can say anything. “That means you’re with the Devil’s Nest.”

I open my mouth to deny it when suddenly my arm is being twisted behind my back, and I’m pinned to the ground, my cheek scraping the concrete. Something in my automail snaps, and I squeeze my eyes shut as pain radiates up into my shoulder.

“Let him go!” Winry squeals. “We weren’t doing anything!”

I peek over my shoulder to see Scar glance at her and squint. “Then why were you here? If you’re his girlfriend like he says…”

“I—” I hiss as his knee digs into my back. “I snuck her out!” I lie, saying whatever words pop into my head. “She has a curfew, and I’m not really the type her dad wants to see her out with, so I brought her to the park so we could be alone.”

Winry, as brilliant as I thought, catches on fast.

“I have to get home,” she jumps in at once. “If my dad finds out I’m missing, he’ll call every cop in the city.”

“So, you were doing something then.” Scar snarls.

“Just making out!” I supply instantly, trying not to notice the instant blush that stains her cheeks. “But her dad checks on her at midnight, so–”

“Please, I can’t be gone when he–”

“Okay, fine,” Scar sighs, releasing me. “You can go.”

The knee in my spine moves off, and I scramble to my feet, watching Winry out of the corner of my eye as I stare at Scar.

“Thank you,” Winry murmurs as she inches toward me.

I take a step closer to her when Scar grabs my shoulder and leans down.

“But if I ever catch you or any of the Devil’s Nesters out again at night, all bets are off, Elric.”

“You won’t,” I guarantee him, even though I have no idea if that’s true.

Winry comes up beside me and attaches herself to my arm just as he backs away. I try not to wince at the sharp pain that shoots through my elbow, determined to stay still until he’s gone. We stand there, silently, as he starts his engine and rolls out.

“Thank you,” Winry exhales as soon as we’re alone again. “I…I–”

“Don’t mention it.”

I reach up to touch my hair and groan when my arm locks up.

“Your automail!” she gasps. “It’s damaged. You’re in pain.”

“No shit,” I hiss. “That guy was ridiculously strong.” And way too damn forceful.

“I can fix it,” she says as if I never spoke. “Come home with me. I have what I need there.”

“I’m sorry, what?” I blink.

“Your arm needs a repair,” she says urgently. “My granny should be asleep, so as long as we’re quiet, I can sneak you in and fix you up, and then sneak you back out without her knowing.”

Fuck, she just invited to sneak me into her bedroom—well, wherever she does her automail stuff. Tonight is out of control.

“I…”

“I won’t take ‘no’ for an answer,” she cuts in. “You got hurt helping me, so it’s the least I can do.”

“Fine.” I give in, not that it was too much of a struggle. “Lead the way.”

Winry

“This is where you live?”

I glance at him in the light from the lamp by the door and bite my lip.

“My family is sort of a big deal in automail,” I murmur. “My granny was one of the first engineers.”

Usually, I don’t think our house is anything grand. It’s a relatively modest two story with a small yard for my dog…but I guess it is in one of the nicer neighborhoods downtown.

“Right.” He nods slowly.

“Anyway, follow me, and be quiet.”

I lead him around the side of the house to the trellis. I could probably go in the front door, but there’s always the chance Granny is up late, and I don’t want to have to take him past her bedroom just in case.

“Can you climb with that wrist?”

“Yeah.”

I watch him curl his fingers into a fist and grimace, but he doesn’t change his answer.

“My bedroom is the window on the right.”

“Your bedroom. Cool. Okay,” he mumbles a string of words, and I suddenly realize what this scenario sort of resembles, a flame of heat instantly racing up the side of my neck.

“It’s locked,” I whisper, “so wait here until I get up there to open it.”

He nods, and I go around through the front door. In the case Granny is up, I want her to think I’m just coming home like a good girl and not about to sneak a boy into my room.

A flash of guilt squeezes my heart, and I do my best to ignore it.

I crack the window as soon as I get to it and wave for Ed to come up. I see him start to climb, watching for a few seconds to make sure he really can manage with his injured automail, before I go to my workbench and store the new part I have in my coat.

“I never thought I’d be the guy sneaking in a girl’s bedroom,” he mutters as his feet hit the floor with a loud thud.

“Shh!” I hiss at him, glancing wildly over my shoulder. “If my Granny finds you in here this late, I literally have no idea how she’ll react.”

But I imagine it won’t be good.

“Sorry.”

“Now,” I whisper, slipping off my coat and scarf, “give me your arm.”

He holds it out as I grab my headlamp and slide it on. After a quick glance, I grab some pliers and try to undo the fresh dent, but it won’t budge.

“I need to replace this plate,” I tell him without looking up. “I actually have one that should fit. Give me two seconds.”

Turning my back on him, I shift some other projects around and grab the part I need along with a screwdriver. It takes a minute to detach the damaged plate, but once it’s off I take a look at the inside just to make sure everything looks good.

“How often do you get your automail checked?” I ask softly, shining a penlight on some smaller gears.

“Uh…only when I absolutely have to, honestly.”

“I figured you’d say that.” I shake my head. “You have some rust, but it isn’t terrible. Let me oil it really quick.”

“You’re a real gearhead, aren’t you?” he asks my back as I’m digging through my oils and serums.

“What?”

“You’re so…zoned in on my automail. It’s like how I am when I’m driving.”

“Oh.” I blink. “I hadn’t really thought about it, but I guess so.”

I quickly administer the oil and grab the new plate, which I have to make a few adjustments to for the right fit.

“So…what did you mean about your driving?” I ask him as I punch a fresh hole in the metal, muffling it as much as I can.

“You probably heard Scar say I’m one of Greed’s racers,” he says softly, his hand coming up to rub the back of his neck. “It’s not really what I want to do, but…driving is all I’m really good at. Well, that and selling meat.”

“I assume a serious driver has a car?”

“Yeah, my baby. She was having engine trouble, so a friend of mine let me put her up in his garage. She’s on blocks because she also needs fresh tires. This 30k should help me fund the last few parts I need to fix her and get her going again.”

“What kind of car is she?”

“How did you know she’s a she?” He stares at me, and I shrug.

“You’re a guy? I don’t know. It just seemed logical. Did you name her?”

“Nina,” he says softly. “And she’s a red Dodge Challenger.”

“Hold still.” He winces as I set the plate and screw it into place. “How’s it feel?”

I watch him move his arm this way and that, throw some fake punches, and swing it over his head before he looks at me.

“Fucking amazing,” he mutters with undeniable awe. “I think this is the best it’s ever been.”

“If you want me to look at your leg sometime, say the word.”

He gives me a sideways glance, and I feel my face flush.

“I just meant–”

“I know.”

“Anyway, Nina,” I change the subject back to something safe. “I’d like to see her.”

“After I get her fixed up, I can pick you up and show her off. I’d love that.”

“Sounds good to me.” I agree instantly, trying to ignore Paninya’s voice in my head screaming this is a bad idea.

“I’ll text you.”

I start to say something about how he never texted before, but stop myself. It doesn’t matter now anyway, if it ever did.

“Cool.” I nod instead. “Now it’s time to sneak you out of here before my Granny hears us."

“Right.” He walks back over to the window and slides it up before looking over at me. “Have a goodnight, princess.”

“Shut up and go home, Ed,” I laugh at him.

He slides his leg out, and I watch as he disappears. After a few seconds, though, I rush over to look down at him.

“What?” he mouths up at me, and I shake my head.

“Nothing. Just…have a goodnight, too, Edward.”

He grins and drops the rest of the way to the ground, going immediately into a somersault, and then dashing off into the night.

Edward

“Fuck. Okay. It’s fine. You’re fine, and you can do this,” I mutter to myself as I slow to a measly five miles an hour and turn onto the street in front of Winry’s house.

Something like a thousand tiny tiny fingertips run down my spine, and my stomach lurches.

“Shit. Maybe I can’t do this.”

I called her a week ago—called, not texted—when I finally had everything done to get Nina back on the road.  I still want to customize her paint job, but Cherry Red looks good on her for the moment. Now, I’m at Winry’s house, waiting to pick her up for what I’m like 90% sure is a date, and I’m not totally sure how that happened.

My phone pings, and I grab it from the cupholder.

Automail Princess: is that you?

I text her back a quick “yeah,” and watch as the front door to the house swings open and she comes running out.

In a dress.

Fuck, I was right. Her legs are amazing.

I groan and throw my head back, banging it against the seat, stopping quickly when she opens the passenger door.

“So where are you and Nina taking me?” She bounces a little in her seat, and I bite my lip to hide my smile.

She’s too adorable.

Which is why this won’t work out.

I shake off the stupid voice in my head and shift gears as she buckles her seatbelt.

“Well, I figured I could drive around the city, and then through the backroads outside of town if you wanted. I can get up to some decent speeds on those since they’re not as heavily policed.”

“Sounds good. Did you have any sort of destination in mind?”

I cough, and reach up to beat my chest with my fist.

“Um…I don’t know, why?”

“Well…” she starts and trails off immediately.

“What?”

“There’s this place,” she says before taking a breath. “I’ve never been there, but I have this friend, and she said… Nevermind, I shouldn’t mention it. It’s dumb, and probably too out of the way–”

“Give me a hint,” I interrupt, secretly loving how flustered she is.

“It’s at the top of this hill. It’s supposed to be the highest point in Amestris, or at least Central City, and–”

I slam on the brakes without meaning to and she squeals before her seatbelt catches her, cutting her off.

“Shit. Fuck. Sorry,” I ramble, speeding up immediately, and forcing my eyes to focus on the road and the windshield and not looking at her.

“You know the place then?” she asks quietly.

“Uh…yeah,” I admit, a muscle in my jaw twitching.

She’s talking about Sniper’s Lookout. It’s an abandoned parking lot outside an old condemned bell tower. I think it used to be part of a church, but the rumor is the best sniper in Central used to use the tower for target practice by shooting birds out of the sky.

But more importantly, Sniper’s Lookout is most notorious for being the premier place for teenagers to go parking.

“Do you, uh, wanna go there?” I glance at her before quickly shifting my eyes back to the road.

“I think so,” she answers after a beat, her voice suddenly softer.

I’m afraid to ask if she means what I think she means, but I’m also afraid not to. I debate with myself in silence as I turn onto the road that leads out of town, directly into the setting sun.

“Ed, are you okay?”

Shit. I’ve been quiet too long.

“Yeah.” I nod. “Just thinking.”

“I freaked you out, didn’t I?” she blurts at once. “If you don’t want to drive all the way up there, we don’t have to. I just thought–”

“No, you didn’t,” I lie to calm her down. “I just have a lot on my mind.”

“Oh…okay.”

“Winry,” I ask suddenly, looking over at her. “Do you know what people—couples, I mean—do at Sniper’s Lookout?”

She blinks, and I watch her cheeks turn a perfect shade of pink.

“Well, I have an idea,” she mumbles. “But, I really just wanted a place we could talk.”

Oh.

“Well, I guess that makes sense.” I nod.

I’m an idiot. Of course she doesn’t want to fool around. We’ve only seen each other twice before now, and never as anything romantic…

She reaches forward and turns on the radio, and we drive in comfortable silence until, the sun completely sets, and I make the turn onto the lane that zigzags back and forth to the top of the tallest hill in the city.

“So…” I turn to her as I cut the engine, the sudden silence deafening. “What did you want to talk about?”

“I really like you,” says suddenly. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have said it like that, but… Well, my friend, Paninya, she’s the one I mentioned before, I’m replacing her knee joints.”

I blink at her and nod slowly.

“…okay?”

“Her adoptive dad is her automail mechanic, and she still hasn’t told him I’m doing the replacement, which is stressing me out. Oh, and that’s also why I needed the part you hooked me up with.”

“Go on.”

“The real problem though, is… Well, I’m weaponizing her legs.”

“I’m sorry, what?” I blink at her.

“Before the law went through about combat automail, she had these self-defense items, and if you knew her, you’d totally understand why she needs them, but her dad complied with the new rules and removed them because she isn’t twenty-one yet.”

“And you’re going to reinstall them?”

“Yes, and…I can’t tell anyone because, well, it’s illegal.”

“But you’re telling me,” I point out quietly.

“I really needed to tell someone, and I…thought you’d understand, and I’m really hoping you’re trustworthy.”

“I do, and…I am,” I assure her. “It’s a pretty big deal though, isn’t it? Doing that kind of automail work?”

“It’s not simple, for sure,” she admits, leaning forward to slide off her jacket. “But I can manage.”

My eyes get caught on the flashes of skin on her bare shoulders. Middle of winter and she’s wearing a pink top with off-the-shoulder sleeves. I’m not sure why, but that seems to be 100% on brand for her.

“I’m trying to get away from racing,” I confess, though I’m not sure why. Something about her makes me want to bare my soul. “I want to get away from Sinners’ Lane entirely, actually. My brother is about to finish high school, and I really want him to go off to college. One of us should.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“I had to take care of him.” I sigh. “Our dad bailed when we were little, and our mom died a few years later… It’s been just us for most of our lives.”

“That’s… I’m sorry.”

“It is what it is.” I shrug.

“How did you lose your arm and leg, if I can ask that?”

“Car accident of course.”

“Racing?”

“Actually, no.” I grin. “I ran out in front of a car to save Al and got hit. It wasn’t long after out mom died. By then, we were in foster care, but our foster parents were actually pretty cool. I… They gave me a job at their butcher shop when I aged out, and when I got my own place I took Al with me, but they’re basically family.”

“That’s good.”

I mean, I guess could’ve left Al with them while I went to school, but that didn’t feel right.

“I guess we’re both figuring shit out.” I run my fingers through my bangs.

“Maybe we could…figure it out together?”

I look over at her and raise an eyebrow.

“I don’t really know what I’m doing,” she murmurs, “but I know I like being with you…”

“I like being with you, too,” I whisper.

Her body angles toward mine, and I stop breathing. She blinks slowly, and I get hung up on how her lashes make her eyes look bluer than normal, which is saying something. A guy could drown in those dark pools…

“Kiss me, Ed.”

I’m not sure if she really said it, or if I imagined it, but the next thing I know, I’m moving my head toward her, and she’s watching my lips as I lower them to hers.

(art by @ayanthos​)

She tastes like a daydream.

My automail fingers slide into the hair by her neck, and my other hand grips the steering wheel as she turns slightly, giving me an opening to deepen the kiss. She gasps against my mouth, and I grin.

She pulls back, and I watch as she takes a short breath and reaches up to touch her lips.

“You okay, princess?”

She nods, but her eyes are shining. Fuck. Is she gonna cry?

“I thought you wanted me to,” I whisper quickly. “I–”

Before I can finish, her finger comes up to my lips, shutting me up.

“It was perfect,” she murmurs. “I… No one has ever kissed me before.”

“What?” I stare at her. “Not ever? Really?”

“Yeah.”

She leans back in and kisses my cheek before pulling away and letting out a short sigh.

“I think I should be getting home soon,” she whispers.

“Right.”

My cheek is burning from where her lips touched it, but I ignore that and focus on starting my car and driving her back to the city. When I pull up in front of her house, I realize I don’t want her to go.

“Can I call you again?”

“I’d like that,” she nods. “And, actually, I sort of need another one of those parts you got me before. I’m doing both of Pan’s knees, so…”

“I can talk to Donovan.”

“Great.” She beams as she reaches for her door handle.

“Wait.” I reach out and grab her hand, pulling her back to me.

“What?”

“Don’t…kiss anyone else, okay?”

Her eyes widen and then soften as she bites her lip.

“I won’t if you won’t.”

“Deal.”

She slides out, and I watch as she walks up the steps before turning to wave at me.

“Nina,” I announce as I pull away. “I think you just got me a girlfriend.”

Winry

“Was that the hot guy?”

Paninya is waiting inside as soon as I step in the door.

“His name is still Edward,” I remind her.

“So, it is him?”

“It is who?” Granny steps out of the kitchen.

“My…boyfriend,” I say definitively.

“What!” Pan screeches. “Winry, you can’t be–”

“Is his surname Elric?” Granny interrupts her, and I freeze.

“Um, yeah, actually.”

“I knew his parents.” She nods. “Good people.”

I almost ask about his MIA dad, but don’t get the chance since Paninya grabs my arm and drags me up the stairs.

“Winry, I told you not to go after a boy from the Lane.”

“I didn’t, it just happened,” I tell her honestly. “And…don’t try to talk me out of it.”

She opens her mouth like she’s going to say something and then closes it again instead.

This happens three times.

“Okay, fine,” she finally says in a huff. “But I wouldn’t be a good friend if I didn’t say one thing.”

“What?”

“Don’t fall for him. You can date him all you want. If you want to make out with him in an alley or sneak him into your bedroom, go for it. Fuck him in his car or on the second-hand couch in his shitty apartment. I don’t care, but don’t fall in love with him.”

“Pan–”

“If you fall in love with him, and he breaks your heart…”

Her face says more than any number of words ever could.

“Okay,” I whisper, hoping to easer her mind.

“Promise me.”

“I…” She leans toward me, and I shut my eyes. “I promise.”

“I’m spending the night by the way,” she announces.

“You’re always welcome,” I remind her softly.

She disappears into the bathroom, and I let out a sigh of relief.

Or regret.

I promised her I wouldn’t fall for Edward, but…

I think it’s too late for that.

#fma big bang #fmabb #edwin #edwin fic #edward elric #winry rockbell #fma #fmab #my fic #my edwin #darkest roads #sinners and saints #fullmetal alchemist #fullmetal alchemist brotherhood #fma brotherhood #fma fic #fma fanfiction #edwin fanfiction #edwin fluff #otp: tears of joy #fueled by fire

[return-of-a-space-cowboy]

Can I ask for bruno with promp#5? I just want to know what my boy would do (´つω・)

Sure thing, we gotta give our love to best boi

If you ever left me

(yandere Bruno Bucciallati X reader)

Warning: a bit of a toxic relationship going on.

You felt the sweat drip down your face as you felt the ravenette's scrutinising gaze as you both sat at the dinning table. You two had been together for a year but you wanted to cut it off.

It's not like he did anything to hurt you, he spoilt you rotten whenever he could. It's just that his role as a gangster forced you two to be apart for long periods of time and you felt that was the cause of loss of heat in your relationship.

"Bruno I wanted to tell you something..." you began.

"I have something to tell you as well amore" he said in a soft tone as his expression lightened.

"I know that sometimes I'm not always the best of boyfriends, I mean I still wonder how I ever managed to meet someone as beautiful..." He continued as he held your hand lightly. Did he really have to start a long speech, it's like he was telling you not to break up with you before you even mentioned it.

"But I promise that I am purely dedicated to you" he said as he stood up. You didn't like where this was going. He then he got down on one knee and revealed a small box in his hand. He was proposing to you.

"No!" You yelled as you slapped the box away before he even had the chance. He looked at you with a shocked expression that turned grim.

"Maybe I'm going a bit too fast" he said.

"No Bruno" you said to him before letting out a large sigh.

"Bruno, your a great man but with such a labouring job that requires you to be away for so long... I can't see us working" you explained.

"What are you saying?" He said in a horrified tone as he stood up, he knew exactly what you meant.

"Bruno.... I think we should-" you tried to say but he cut you off by him literally zipping you mouth shut.

"Don't you dare finish that sentence!" he growled as he grabbed you by the hand.

"Why, why would you even consider such a thing?" He asked.

"What ever you want I'll give it to you just say the word and it's all yours! Just don't leave me!" He plead as he tried to embrace you.

"Let go, let go of me!" you attempted to scream though your forcibly shut mouth.

"Shh, (Y/n) everything will be fine. Just stay right here..." He hushed you as he stroked your hair.

"I want the absolute best for us (Y/n), don't you see how much I love you" he said as he pulled your waist closer to his. You tried to push him away but it was no use as your body began to fall apart.

"I can't bare the pain of not having you..." he said as he picked up the box and your detached hand. He then pulled out the large extravagant ring from the box and slid it onto the remaining section of your ring finger.

"As you are the one that brings me so much joy"

💍💍💍

You woke up in the large bed that you had shared with Bruno so many times. The aromas of breakfast being cooked wafted into the room. he must already be up, moment like this would of made you happy but you were scared.

You looked at your hand and inspected your engagement ring and tried to pull it off but you couldn't, it was way too tight. You couldn't even get it past your knuckle, you quickly ran into your bathroom and lathered your finger in soap but it still wouldn't come off.

"(Y/n), are you alright?" He called out to you.

"Yes, I'm perfectly fine" you lied as you washed off the soap.

"Ok, just letting you know breakfast will be ready in a couple of minutes" he continued.

You decided to hop in the shower and get dressed before walking into the dinning room. the gravity in the room felt dense as you remembered what had happened.

"(Y/n) I'm so sorry for my outburst last night, it's just I couldn't let our relationship end just like that..." he said as he walking to the dinning room with two plates of breakfast in hand, noticing the way your eyes glazed over.

"I want us to work forward in our relationship and I promise you I'll never do such a thing like what I did last night happen again" he said as he placed the plates at the table before walking to you and placing his hands on your hips.

"I hate it when you look all gloomy, come on, give your future husband a smile" he said before bringing his hands to your face pushing the corners of your lips up to form a smile. He then kissed you on the forehead before sitting at the table. You followed suit and looked down at pieces of crisp bacon, softly poached eggs and the mashed avocado on-top of a slice of toast.

You picked up your fork and knife and began to eat.

"I've been called in for work" Bruno said as he watched you.

"But I promise that when it's done we'll go out and do something nice" he continued before placing another fork full of food in his mouth.

The rest of the morning was like usual, he did the dishes and cleaned the kitchen before getting ready to leave.

"I hope you have a great day dear" he said as he gave you a quick kiss before leaving. You walked into the bathroom. You just couldn't believe what had happened last night, and he just decided that you were both engaged after what he did.

'maybe my mind will clear if I go to work' you thought as you got ready for work.

💍💍💍

"Hey (Y/n), nice day isn't it?" Gabrielle said as you walked into the office. You slightly winced at her unusually sickeningly sweet tone. She wasn't the meanest of people but she was quite a bitch towards you.

"Yes..." You replied

"The boss wants to speak to you" she said with a abnormal and obviously forced grin, that kind of grin that people that are trying to look happy use while a gun is pointed to their head.

"Thanks..." You said as you made your way to his office.

You knocked on the door and you boss opened it. He gingerly greeted you as he let you in and offered you a seat.

"So... What did you want me for?" You asked.

"I've been considering this for awhile but I think you've proven yourself to be worthy of a raise" he replied.

You couldn't believe what he was saying. You didn't mind the fact that he chose you but you wouldn't consider yourself an outstanding employee.

"Really?" You asked.

"Really" he said.

"Thank you sir" was the only other thing that came out of your mouth.

Today just seemed to good to be true...

💍💍💍

You sat at your desk typing up the last section of the monthly inventory management report, occasionally looking at the clock. It was 4:15pm right now. That last painful 45 minutes that seemed to last hours.

Despite that the whole day had been almost perfect. Gabrielle had kept her loud mouth shut the whole day and the work you had gotten wasn't too time consuming, however you couldn't help but feel that in the tranquility was something sinister.

You sipped some water and typed up the last part of the summary when your boss walked in.

"(Y/n) you've done enough today, you can go home" he said.

"Are you sure?" You asked.

"Yes, of course" he replied.

"O...ok" you said as you saved your work and signed out of you computer.

"Thank you sir, see you tomorrow" you thanked him as you grabbed your things.

"Yes see you tomorrow" he said as he had that same smile that Gabrielle had earlier today. Something was definitely off.

You unlocked you car and entered. You threw your bag on the passenger seat and started the car. However just as you began to push down on the acceleration, the small beeping began and a little light flickered telling you that a passenger wasn't wearing their seatbelt. Your bag couldn't have set it Off so you looked in back and let out a small scream as you saw Bruno.

"How did you get in my car?!" You asked as you tried to calm down.

"I have my ways mio Amore" he chuckled as he grabbed your bag and put it in the back before stepping over the console and sitting in the passenger seat.

"So anyway how was your day?" He asked you with a beautiful smile as he buckled his seatbelt.

"It was good..." You replied as you gave him look through the corner of your eye as you exited the car park.

"What's with that tone and look?" He asked.

"It's nothing" you said.

"Are you sure? You can tell me if there is" he said, it's like was prying into you.

"I'm still not comfortable around you, not after what you did to me!" You responded.

"I'm sorry... It's just that I'm to afraid to have you leave me" he responded. You didn't respond to what he said and kept your eyes on the road.

"Oh come on, please just understand me" he plead.

"Or at least be happy on the date I've planned for us" he continued.

💍💍💍

"Where is the danm phone?" you mumbled to yourself as you searched for your mobile phone. You then heard its faint vibrations coming from the kitchen you looked through the utensil draws and found it before picking it up. It was an unfamiliar number but you answered it anyway.

"(Y/n) what the fuck's going on with you?" Your friend Michael asked.

"What are you talking about?" You asked.

"You sent a lot of hateful texts to all me, Jesse, Tom, Evan, Ava, Margret and Rose and then blocked all our numbers" he explained.

"Wait what?" You exclaimed.

"Yeah, I thought it wasn't you..." He stated.

"Let me look on my phone real quick" you said as you pulled out the small keyboard section and looked through your contacts to see that you contact list had been shortened dramatically, the only numbers left were family members, your work and Bruno. That's when you knew who did it.

"He's trying to isolate me..." You hissed under your breath.

"Who?" Michael asked.

"Bruno... I tried to break up with him a few days ago, he's been acting weird ever since" You explained, keeping out those unexplainable details out.

"You only just noticed!" He nearly yelled.

"What do you mean?" You asked.

"Come over to my house and I'll explain" he said before you heard his phone ring in the background.

"Could you hold on for a sec" he said as he anwserd his phone. You could only make out a little of what he said but you heard Bruno's name mentioned.

"Actually pack all your things you can live with me for a while" he continued.

"What? What did he do?" You asked.

"Just get over here ASAP!" He yelled before hanging up.

💍💍💍

You sighed as you looked at the train timetable, it was going to be another half an hour till the next one arrived, well at least you could grab a quick bite to eat before the next train arrived. You turned around an instantly froze with fear as you saw a familiar teen approaching.

His name was Narancia and he was part of Bruno's gang. You had only met the members of Bruno's gang a few times but you knew that there was a deep sense of trust between each of them, and Narancia was very dedicated to Bruno.

"Hey (Y/n)" he called out as if nothing was wrong.

"Oh... H... Hi Narancia" you responded as he got closer.

"I thought Bruno said you were working today" he said as he tilted his head.

"Well my boss called this morning and said I could have the day off. So I'm meeting up with a cousin" you lied to the scruffy ravenette.

"Pretty large suitcase to bring for a day trip, don't ya think?" He replied. Was he trying to interrogate you?

"Well I got them a large gift" you chuckled to throw him off but he had that gut feeling that what you were saying was a lie. He grabbed you arm and pulled you close.

"I know that's a load of bullshit" he hissed.

"What?!" You said as you tried to push him away.

"You're a real bitch ya know that? Bruno loves you more then anything in the world and you're just going to run away from him!" He tried his hardest not to yell.

"Narancia... He's not been acting right lately... Surely you must understand that he may need help" you explained to the teen but he just wouldn't listen.

"And you the only one that can help him!" He said as he started to pull you behind.

"Hey, let me go" you said as you.

"Don't make a scene, or I'll have no choice but to shoot your leg" he murmured as he continued too pull you along, practically dragging you out of the train station.

"Please don't do this Narancia... I know you're a nice person, just let me go... I promise I'll go back to Bruno soon it's just he's become extremely possessive" you plead to him."No, you're lying! I'm not going to let you betray his heart!" He yelled as he brought you to a car.

Before you could even say another word the door opened and you were forcibly pulled in, your body was pulled close to their own.

"Thank you very much Narancia" a familiar voice said. His voice as filled with gratitude but had an underling tone of anger.

"No problem boss" Narancia replied with a smile on his face before closing the door.

You looked up to see Bruno and a chill went down your spine as you saw his angered expression.

"Why would you do such a thing to me?" He asked in a cold tone.

"Bruno... Please-" you plead.

I don't want to hear a word from you right now" he hissed.

"Besides if loyalty isn't enough to keep you by my my side, then seven different locks should  do the trick"

#yandere jjba #yandere x reader #yandere #bruno buccerati #bruno #bruno x reader #spacy works