#i’ve genuinely been . sitting in the misery for a lot longer than usual…it sucks

[rodr1cks]

Sick Day | 2.1k

fluff!! you’re sick and rodrick comes to the rescue.

warnings: vomit, being sick in general

All day you had been feeling extremely ill. The nurse at school was being impossible and refused to send you home, despite your pleas.

“Please Mrs. Williams, I feel terrible you have to believe me!”

She was extremely skeptical, “Child, do you know how many times I hear that in a day? You don’t have a fever, back to class.”

And just like that, you were dismissed. Sent to endure the rest of your classes in misery.

The day went by painfully slow after your trip to the nurse. The fluorescent lights berated your pupils making it impossible to concentrate and worsening your headache.

It was sixth period, the last class of the day. Also your least favorite class of the day. You couldn’t stand the teacher. Mr. Wright. He was your classic asshole history teacher.

You were completely zoned out, trying to focus on not vomiting. Your name being called pulled you out of your haze.

“Miss y/l/n? Do you care to answer me? Unless you’re busy of course.”

Condescending bastard.

You held your tongue, swallowing any smart-ass comments that threatened to spill past your lips. You cleared your throat.

“I’m sorry, what was the question.”

He went through the whole “this is a learning environment” lecture after that. Again, you didn’t listen. You couldn’t have even if you wanted to. Thankfully, he left you alone after that.

Finally, the last bell of the day sounded through the school. You lept from your seat and ran to the bathroom. You practically body slammed the door open. Luckily, the bathroom was empty, most kids having already filed out of the main doors, eager to begin their weekend festivities.

You were hunched over one of the white porcelain bowl, tears filling your eyes.

Today could not get any worse.

After taking a few deep breaths, you were able to compose yourself enough to exit the bathroom.

You crossed your fingers, hoping that the halls had been completely evacuated.

You crept through the empty corridors and out into the parking lot. You were especially dreading the walk home today.

You were walking through the parking lot, enjoying the fresh air when you saw him. Rodrick Heffley.

The two of you were best friends in elementary school but you drifted apart after a while. You honestly developed a certain distaste for him, as he had you.

Please don’t notice me, please don’t-

“Y/n!”

Shit.

“Rodrick!” you feigned enthusiasm.

His brow furrowed, “You look… paler than usual?” You rolled your eyes, classic Rodrick. You wanted this interaction to end, immediately. “Yup. Not feeling well.” You deadpanned, providing little detail.

Rodrick hesitated for a moment, “Well, let me drive you home, kid.”

Kid. Who did he think he was?

“I think I’ll pass, weather is nice today.” The weather was far from nice.

“Oh really, the weather is nice, y/n? Where are you right now? Because it’s raining where I am.”

He sighed, “and I also saw that little performance Mr. Wright gave you...”

Oh so he pities me.

“Rodrick, If I get in your van will you stop talking?”

He motioned, pretending to zip his lips up and throw away the key. A small smile spread across your face but you didn’t let him see that.

A few minutes into the drive, you decided you were glad you let him take you home. The sky had opened up and it was storming.

Oh God.

“Rodrick, pull over, now.”

He looked over at you and could tell what was about to happen. He pulled over quickly and you opened the door. You leaned over and vomited right onto the grass patch parallel to the road, in the pouring rain.

Coyly, you returned to your seat in the van. You were unsure if you should apologize, so you stayed silent.

“Y/n, are your parents home?”

He knew they never were. Ever since you were a kid, your parents had been anywhere but home. Business trips, vacations, retreats, you name it.

You looked down at your shoes, water dripping from your hair, and shook your head.

“Alrighty then, change of plans.”

You protested, “Rodrick that’s really not necessary I’ll be fine.” Part of you knew there was no point in arguing. If he was one thing, it was stubborn.

He reached out, placing the back of his hand on your forehead to prove a point, “Y/n, you’re burning up. You’re coming with me.”

You were closer to his house anyways. That’s how you justified it, at least.

His van pulled into The Heffley’s driveway. Rodrick got out and rushed around the vehicle to open your door.

“Come along, y/n. I know somebody who will be very happy to see you,” he grinned.

The front door swung open and you were hit with a wave of nostalgia. The Heffley’s house was always warm and always smelled spectacular. Somehow, Mrs. Heffley was always baking or cooking something.

“Y/n? What a nice surprise this is!” Mrs. Heffley beamed. She had always loved you. “How I’ve missed seeing your face around here!” She said, placing her hands on your checks.

“You’re soaking wet!” You nodded awkwardly in response. “And goodness, you’re burning up! Are you feeling alright?” She felt your forehead and cheeks, then squeezed your shoulders gently.

From a young age, Mrs. Heffley had looked after you as one of her own. Nothing had changed it seemed.

“No, actually,” you smiled half-heartedly. Mrs. Heffley frowned at you. “Rodrick, get her some dry clothes, would you?.” Rodrick nodded, leading you up the stairs.

You stood in his room, obviously uncomfortable. He was knelt in front of his dresser, digging around for something.

“Ah! Here it is.”

Rodrick whipped out a t-shirt for you to change into. He grabbed a pair of black sweats from another drawer as well.

“Here you are, mademoiselle.” He stuck out the wad of clothing in your direction. You couldn’t lie, you were happy to have some dry clothes to change into.

You stepped into his bathroom, taking a moment to examine your appearance. You looked rough. Intense bags hung low under your eyes and you truly did look more pale than usual. Fantastic.

You emerged from the bathroom, Rodrick’s clothing drooping slightly from your frame. Rodrick was sitting on the end of his bed and he patted the surface.

You joined him on his twin mattress, only because you were exhausted.

“Rodrick, why are you being nice to me?”

He looked guilty. “You’ve had a rough day, y/n…”

He sucked in a breath, “...and y’know I’ll always care about you.”

How could he still care for you? You completely wrote him off when high school began.

“Listen, y/n, the past is in the past, okay?”

A genuine smile appeared on your face. Before the moment could become too sentimental, Rodrick interjected.

“Oh! Be right back,” he chirped.

He ran downstairs and came back with an orange soda and some cold & flu medicine.

Rodrick explained himself, “Orange! Like, vitamin C, right?” He looked too happy with himself, you couldn’t bring him down. At least his heart was in the right place.

Concealing your laughter to the best of your ability, you accepted the beverage and medicine from his hand.

You hated this kind of medicine with your whole heart. The orange soda could be useful honestly, just not for its nutritional value like Rodrick intended.

Rodrick measured out the appropriate amount of the medicine for you as you cracked open the can. He handed you the small cup full of the thick, red liquid.

You threw back the grotesque cherry flavored solution, grimacing as it coated your throat. You chased the medicine with the orange soda. See, it did come in handy.

You leaned back into Rodrick’s pillows, trying to relax.

About fifteen minutes later you felt extremely drowsy. “Rodrick, can I see that bottle?”

“Uh, sure,” he said, confused.

You read the bottle and instantly threw your head back in annoyance. “Rodrick this is the drowsy kind!” You continued inspecting the bottle, “and it’s extra strength!”

With each second passing, it got increasingly difficult to keep your eyes open.

Everything was blurry and you were teetering between consciousness and sleep.

“Rodrick,” you slurred. “I’m so sorry I stopped talking to you… stopped being your friend. Felt like I wasn’t cool or pretty enough… didn’t deserve you.”

Rodrick was extremely confused. You thought you were too good for him? He had to hold back a laugh.

He couldn’t conceal his smile, “Excuse me? Y/n, that must be the nyquil talking.” He rolled his eyes and brushed off your comment, contemplating the sentiment for a mere moment.

You eventually drifted off, unable to ward off sleep any longer.

When you woke up, you first noticed rodrick. He was sitting on his beaten up couch with his headphones covering his ears. You could hear the muffled baseline from your spot across the room.

How are his eardrums still intact?

Rodrick had a shoebox on his lap and he was shuffling through the contents, smiling to himself.

You cleared your throat, obtaining his attention.

“Oh, y/n! You’re up!” He smiled at you, ripping off his headphones.

You nodded slowly, knuckling your eyes sleepily.

“What time is it?”

Rodrick glanced at his watch, “It’s only 8:30.” You nodded again, continuing to rub the sleep from your eyes.

Rodrick stood, picking up the box and walking over to you. “Look,” he said softly. You peered down into the small shoebox and numerous photos and letters.

“This one here is my favorite,” he said quietly. It was a picture of you and Rodrick at the roller rink. You recognized the photo immediately.

“Seventh grade kick off,” you smiled. You took the box from his lap and began looking through each photo, braided friendship bracelet, concert ticket.

You laughed as each item brought back memories you had long forgotten.

You stopped at a photo of the two of you dressed up in ridiculous outfits. You wore a sequined hat and Rodrick held his drumsticks in hand.

“Was this when we saw Good Charlotte?” You asked.

He giggled, “It sure was. I remember thinking I looked so hot that night. Guess not huh.”

“What are you talking about, you looked incredible Rodrick. Seventh grade me was dying to jump you right then and there.”

His face lit up, “Really?”

“No,” you flashed him an expressionless look before breaking out into side-splitting laughter. He joined you.

You missed this feeling of pure, unadulterated joy. Rodrick was the only person who you had truly experienced that with.

You sighed to yourself. Come tomorrow, you’d be back to strangers. Tears welled up in your eyes and your lip quivered. Rodrick was oblivious until a single tear drop fell onto the photograph below you.

He immediately tried to comfort you. He placed an arm around your shoulder, dragging you into his larger frame. It caught you off guard but you allowed yourself to melt into his touch.

Rodrick distracted you from your sorrow. “Look at this one right here.” It was a photo of you and the Heffley Family in their backyard. You and Rodrick were around fifteen, if you remembered correctly.

“This was the day that I realized I had a big, fat crush on you.”

He followed up, “S’lame I know…”

Heat flooded your cheeks, this time the heat was not a result of your illness. Was it anxiety? Happiness? Both? You couldn’t decide.

“You never really explained why you stopped talking to me and coming by my house.”

You shrugged at him, feeling like your explanation would make him mad. “Well, Rodrick, you started getting new friends. Friends that were better than me or cooler than me.”

“Y/n that is probably the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. I could never replace you. To this day, nobody’s ever come close.”

He gave you a playful smack over the head.

“...anyways, to be honest that crush never really went away?”

Before you had time to process the sentence he was gently grabbing your chin, turning your head.

You were facing him now, your lips only inches away from his.

“Can I kiss you?”

“Y-yeah, yes, I think so, yeah.”

He laughed at you and leaned in slowly. Rodrick used one finger to gently move your hair out of your face.

The kiss was gentle and filled with emotion.

You felt like you hadn’t known what you were missing out on until that moment. You felt completed.

“Oh shit, I better not get sick!”

#rodrick heffley x reader #rodrick heffley #rodrick fanfiction #diary of a wimpy kid #rodrick

[tamagochiie]

pairing: timeskip!kenma x fem!reader synopsis: You come home late from your cousin’s funeral, and though Kenma didn’t expect much from you but perhaps a few leftovers you’ve managed to steal away from the dinner, he finds you with a surprise: a sleeping child cradled around your neck and a teenage boy hovering behind you. Your poor boyfriend wondering what in the hell it is you’re plotting… tags: angst and fluff, time skip!, slight spoilers if you squint warnings: mentions of death, mentions of depression, cursing, mentioned homophobia w/c: 3.6k

tagging list:  @angrylittleriri​ @chims-kookies​ @gooseyhouse @kiyokoscunchie​ @unhappyraspberry​ @elianetsantana​ 

a/n: welcome to the THIRD chapter of the fic! i hope you’re all doing well since i’ve last posted. I genuinely apologize for the delay! a few personal things kinda popped up, and it kinda derailed the process of posting this fic, but at least we’re here now!  this is a bit longer compared to the other chapters, but i hope you all enjoy! please ignore any grammar mistakes, i proof read this to the best of my ability and it’s currently 5 in the morning :’) 

see you all next week for the final chapter.  p.s. I do have a smol surprise, so stay tuned for next week! 

back to master list

<< life as she’s known it | life as they’ll know it >>

Kenma had always been aware of the common misconception people had of him, and the lack of interest they had to confirm it: that he had the inability to express his thoughts and feelings let alone identify it. 

In a way, he did find it rather difficult to open up. Being bullied as a child silenced him into the dreading assumption that anyone who was kind to him or showed any interest in him were only doing so just to mess with him. 

It took Kuroo quite a lot when he first met Kenma. He bent his little body over and under, jumping through hoops like a show pony just to get Kenma to even blink his way. And though all that effort strained him, he wouldn’t hesitate to tell you he’d do it all again if he could. 

But it wasn’t a question of whether or not Kenma could identify what he was feeling and thoroughly express it. He had the right words, all of which were hanging off the tip of his tongue. He just didn’t know how to say it without sounding insensitive or heartless. 

So as he stares at Yuki twirling in a dress you found digging through one of your old childhood clothes, his lips run dry. His words tuck behind the swell of his heart because though Yuki does indeed look like the cutest child he’s ever seen, his thoughts are full of concern, worried about what people say to a little boy showing up in a jean overall dress with purple and yellow flowers embroidered at the hem. 

His eyes gape onto the sight before him, flickering over to Eiji when he hears him clear his throat. He seems just as troubled, quieter than usual while he watches over his brother. Not a single trace of amusement is seen in Eiji’s face. He doesn’t seem happy at all, and it phases Kenma; he’s usually stoic if not smiling in the presence of Yuki. 

Yuki continues to giggle himself, gripping onto the material of his dress to have it flow in the air. He looks up to meet your eyes, oblivious to the two boys muddled in their own distress. 

“I’m sorry, Yuki-chan,” You huff, smiling down to the little boy running circles in the middle of the living room. “If I had known the preschool was gonna accept you so soon, I would’ve brought you to the mall...But this should be fine for now, right? Is this okay with you, Yuki-chan?” 

Yuki disregards your apology, holding up your old frog raincoat as he beams at his “new” found clothes. 

“Plus, these don’t look so old, and it doesn’t look too girly, don’t you think?” You turn to Kenma who spares you nothing more than a nod. You follow his gaze and find it etched into the embroidered hem. 

It doesn’t pass off as boy clothes, he thinks, letting your words breeze past him. 

Kenma isn’t shy with breaking gender norms; he’s worn a few skirts and dresses himself, all that are still sitting in his closet to be worn again. His qualms aren’t with Yuki wearing a dress, but the treatment he’s expected to get when he shows up to his first day of school. He’ll be bullied into the same silence Kenma faced, and he’ll amount to nothing more than rubble beneath their judgement. 

They say times are changing, so the people must be too, right? But there’s a persistent constricting feeling building up in his chest as if it comes as a warning sign. And the fact that Eiji looks just as uneasy as himself hints that maybe Yuki should change out of something less...worrisome. 

“Mmm, Yuki,” Kenma clears his throat, trying to subside the build up of his uneasiness, “maybe you should wear something else…?” Yuki’s smile falters at his words as confusion colors away his joy. “I think you should wear the pants with the little frog shirt you picked out instead.” 

He doesn’t mean for his words to come out bitter and cold, and the momentum of his panic leaves a lump in his throat he isn’t too sure he’ll be able to swallow if he keeps his silence. 

Yuki looks up to him, blinking away at his words with glistening eyes. “I don’t look pretty?” Yuki’s voice comes out small--smaller than his fingers and toes. Smaller than his ability to comprehend where Kenma’s truly coming from. “You don’t like it, Kenma-san..?”

Oh no, he thinks to himself. Panic rises from his stomach and climbs up to his chest; a tightness in his throat soon follows when Yuki begins to blubber, telling him how mean he’s being. I didn’t mean to make him--

“Kozume.” You chide, looking at him quizzically. He meets your eyes and he instantly freezes up, thinking you, too, have come to misunderstand him. “What are you doing? Do something.” 

But he can’t. If he opens his mouth, he’ll only sound meaner than before, and he’d rather not add any more confusion or any more pain to the little boy. 

“Say something,” You push, glaring at him. “Kozume.” 

His throat goes dry as well as his lips, and when he finally does gain enough courage, Eiji takes a step forward beating him to the punch. “Yuki, I think it’s better you just wear pants. Dresses are for girls, and you shouldn’t be wearing this kind of stuff.” 

Your eyes widen and so does Kenma’s. Eiji’s is stern and clear in contrast to all the other times he’s spoken since he’s arrived. You watch as he kneels to meet Yuki’s eyes, placing a hand on his shoulder before running it up to his cheek to wipe away his tears. 

“There might be some problems if you wear a dress to school, Yuki-chan. And didn’t we promise each other we wouldn’t cause them any trouble for Oba-san and Kenma-san while we’re here?” Eiji’s voice is a lot soft, yet his words are still firm. Yuki quietly submits to his brother, hanging his head low as he continues to cry. 

You stand there both stunned. 

You want to speak up, but you’re still unsure of your place; who you are and what you can say. So you stand there with Kenma tightlipped at your side with tension hanging above your heads, watching as Yuki quietly sniffles to himself as he hugs the pile of clothes he’s picked and carries it into their shared bedroom. 

Needless to say, everyone goes to bed tucked beneath the covers of their guilt. 

                                                                                   ❁ ❁ ❁

Quiet mornings with a steaming cup at hand while treading lightly through the endless sea of emails in his iPad brought Kenma an odd sense of peace, and he looked forward to it every morning. But much to Kenma’s dismay, the apartment is too quiet and the coffee bitter; the chill in the atmosphere is unsettling as he falls into deep thought. 

He thinks back to the events of last night; Yuki’s crying face, your contorted look of confusion, and Eiji’s words. It all comes pouring down on him like a bucket of cold water. 

Not even his coffee can spare him from the chill down his spine. 

He mentally kicks himself, thinking of all the other ways he could’ve said it better. How he could’ve prevented him from breaking Yuki’s little heart and avoided your cold shoulder as you left in a hurry to take the kids to their schools. 

Kenma sucks in a breath as the stinging spreads across his chest. The weight of his cup grows heavy and he shifts his grip to a more comfortable hold. Nothing about the morning is comforting, and it leaves Kenma in distress, the feeling spilling into his work as he continues about his day. 

He can barely read a single line of an email let alone write one; his senses aren’t as sharp as he struggles to smoothen his hand-eye coordination during gaming; and he catches himself zoning out in the middle of his online meetings, barely humming responses to questions he pretends to hear. 

Kenma wonders how Yuki’s doing, and what he could do to apologize and gain his trust back. Maybe he’ll get some strawberry milk on the way to fetch him, or buy the little duck umbrella he caught him eyeing at the convenience store. 

Kenma isn’t good with words if one were to ask him to be gentle and kind. He’s blunt and straight to the point, and it took him more than just a while to get used to softening the blow of his words and how he delivers them. 

And now, as he muddles in his misery does he ingrain those habits deeper into thought until it becomes muscle memory to his lips. 

He’s only then pulled from his squabbles when the doorbells rings throughout the apartment. His feet drag him to the door as his mutters in his resentment. What in the hell could be here--

“You’re shitting me.” Kenma grimaces at  the sight of the cheeky grin plastered across his best friend’s face as he opens the door; his hair tousled to the side and his usual business attire unkempt.  “What the hell do you want?” 

Kuroo pouts, pretending to be wounded by the bitter greeting as he holds a hand to his heart. “Is that how you greet an old friend?” 

“Not now, Kuroo-san.” Despite the bite in his words and his half-hearted attempt to shut the door, Kuroo welcomes himself in, kicking his shoes to the side before trailing behind him. 

“I miss your calls,” Kuroo teases, eyes wandering about the apartment, “you don’t even text me back anymore.” 

“I don’t have the time.” Kenma grits as he pinches the bridge of his nose. A drunken, dizzying feeling whirling in his head; probably because of all the coffee he’s downed and the little water he’s consumed. “Whatever it is you’re here to pester me with, please save it for another time and leave.” 

“Why? Stay at home daddy roles keeping you occupied?” The cushion of the couch bends beneath Kuroo’s weight as he leisurely raises his feet to the coffee table, arms relaxing over to the arm rest. “I wasn’t so surprised when you became a CEO, but this--fatherhood was something I’d imagined you’d do much later...” 

Irritation seeps through Kenma’s skin in the form of tense muscles and a clenched jaw as Kuroo continues on to pass cheap jokes and badgers him. He swipes a bottle warm from the fridge before joining Kuroo on the other side of the couch, kicking his foot off the table on the way. 

“You’re so cold to me.” Kuroo whines, ruffling Kenma’s pudding head hair, earning a disapproving tsk. “Seriously, how’s it someone like you skips the step to marriage and dives straight to having kids? I’m a bit hurt. I had to hear it from Shoyo. Like, seriously? Shoyo? I thought I was your best friend?” 

“Self-proclaimed.” He corrects, unbothered by Kuroo’s sore expression as he untwists the cap from the bottle before chugging the water down in one breath. “Will you leave now?” 

“Why are you so keen to push me out?” Kuroo lifts himself off the warmth of the cushions, moving closer to his evidently troubled friend as he picks off the seal from the plastic bottle. “Kenma, are you okay? Kyanma?”

Pinching the bridge of his nose once again, Kenma shakes his head as he leans his head back. Kuroo tilts his head, watching as his friend unravels in his pain; manifesting both metaphorically and physically. 

“I’ve said something mean to a little boy and he didn’t even deserve it.” Kenma fiddles the empty bottle, tossing it to the side before anxiously fiddling with his fingers. 

“What happened?” 

A deep and heavy sigh escapes him, “He was wearing a dress and I told him he shouldn’t. A-And, And it’s not like I didn’t want him to. I don’t mind it all, but people are mean and the thought that he might face the same kind of treatment I did--Kuroo-san, I don’t want that.”

“You only meant well,” Kuroo places his hand on Kenma’s shoulder, rubbing circles against the material of his old Nekoma sweater. “Though, you could’ve said it better--” 

“You know damn well I’m not good at that!” Kenma spits, cutting him off. 

“But the point is, you meant well!” He reiterates. “Might’ve come across as a lil douche-y, but the intentions were there. But I think you of all people know that no matter what, there’ll always be someone mean. And I don’t think you can shield him from that. Maybe temporarily, but not forever.” 

“I don’t want that kind of pain for him!” Kenma abruptly stands from his place, frustration tingling at his fingertips as it spreads throughout the rest of his body. “He’s so small, Kuroo-san. You should’ve seen him. I said one thing and it already looked like he was gonna break. What happens when he hears words worse than mine? What’ll I do then? What can I do for him?” 

Sniffling. It is the sound that follows after Kenma’s voice breaks and causes Kuroo to raise his brows. At first he thinks his ears have tricked him, but when he finds tears pooling down to his chin as he collapses back onto his seat. 

And it is at this moment, after all the time that has passed, has he seen him break.  

“I-I don’t know how to do any of this. I’m so confused.” Kenma babbles on, stumbling on his own words and choking in between his sobs. And all Kuroo can offer is a soft, rhythmic pat on his back to try and calm him down.

“I’ve been doing some reading about how to understand children or how to raise one, but it's so different. There’s all these theories and guidelines, but no one tells you that you forget everything you read the second they appear in front of you…” 

Kenma holds his head in his trembling hands, crying even harder. All the while he wonders what the child version of him would think if saw him as fragile as the fallen leaves that’d crunch beneath his feet. He’d wonder if he had known the stress he’d fall prey to, would he have continued? 

But as the image of you bleed through his worries, he’s more than sure of his answer. 

Yes. 

Yes, I would. 

Over and over again in one breath. 

“You will be to that child what you needed when you were bullied.” Kuroo’s words are steady, matched with an endearing smile to comfort Kenma’s crying as he meets his glistening gaze. “You needed someone to reassure you that all you heard were nothing but lies, so you do that for him.” 

“Ah, my dear friend, have you not heard of the phrase ‘It takes a village to raise a child’?” Kenma merely blinks at him quizzically as Kuroo snakes an arm around him to bring him close. “What I’m tryna say is: stop acting like you don’t have me, and Shoyo, and the rest of your friends who’re just within your reach. No one ever said it was only just going to be the two of you.” 

Kenma swallows thickly, nodding in agreement as he wipes away the snot dripping from the tip of his nose. He says his thanks that’s quieter than a whisper, it comes airy and a bit croaky from crying. 

The words of his best friend doesn’t immediately fill his heart with peace, but it does lift a little weight from his shoulders. It does give him the sense of security he’s been searching for. And all Kenma wants to do now is apologize to Yuki-- 

“Speaking of,” Kuroo clears his throat, wandering his eyes around the expanse of the apartment. “Where are the kids…?” 

“Oh, shit.” 

                                                           ❁ ❁ ❁

Kuroo and Kenma’s feet click clack against the pavement as they run down to Yuki’s preschool. The cool afternoon air winds past the pair; Kenma’s chest is heaving in pain while Kuroo barely breaks a sweat. 

“I can’t believe you forgot the child!” Kuroo shouts behind him, laughing at Kenma struggling to catch up. “How could you forget a child?” 

“I was pretty preoccupied today!” Kenma countered between ragged breaths. “If your ass didn’t show up I would’ve remembered!” 

“Not with all that crying!”

“Don’t you dare bring that up ever!” 

Kuroo’s hyena laugh carries two blocks over. Head turn as the two continue to bicker all the way down until they arrive at the preschool. Children clamoring before the gate, mingling with their parents and Kenma’s hooded gaze sweeps through the crowd to find a familiar tousled head of hair. 

“What’s he look like?” Kuroo towers over Kenma and the children, squinting his eyes and looking around as if he’s got any clue. 

“He, uh, he should be wearing jeans and a frog shir--” Kenma’s attention is pulled from a string of voices singing praises to find Yuki proudly twirling in his embroidered dress, basking in their compliment. 

It becomes clear to Kenma you dire need to leave the house immediately was because of this. Because you were being coy.

But Yuki’s joy is short-lived, locking eyes with Kenma huffing for air after all the running. But to the young boy gaping up at him, it looks as if he’s ready to yell. So he stops his twirling, his smile slipping away as the rest of the kids’ turn to face him. 

Yuki straightens himself, adjusting the straps of his backpack as he carefully walks towards Kenma with his head hung low. Kuroo elbows his side and nearly knocks out the little air he has left. 

He swipes his tongue across his lips before he speaks, But before he can even utter a sound, his train of thought is pulled from him once again. 

“Disgusting.” An abrasive, disembodied voice grimaces. Not a single care if they’re heard. 

“Why the hell is he wearing a dress?” Says another. 

“Honestly, this generation…” 

“Boy’s aren’t supposed to be wearing dresses.” 

The chattering picks up and soon all the parents are ogling at Yuki who can hear them all so clearly, and Kenma notices him shrinking into his froggy raincoat, trying to hide from their judgemental stares. 

This, Kenma thinks. This is exactly what I mean. 

Kenma is not an emotional person, and not once did he ever raise his voice or act on what he was feeling without thinking it over. And as much as he’d like to throw his hands and cause a scene, he remembers Kuroo’s advice. 

“Who’s child is this?” One of the mothers questions. “Who does this child belong to?” 

“He belongs to me, Miss.” Kenma rasps, taking Yuki’s hand in his before turning to the woman. “I am the guardian and this is my child.” 

“And you allow your child to wear a dress?” 

“Yes.” He answers, finding the footing in his confidence to talk back to a woman who can easily tower over him if she steps closer. “Yes, and what does that have to do with you?” 

“Have you no shame?” She glares at him in disgust, sighing. “He’s a boy! Boy’s shouldn’t be wearing dresses! It’s for girls! What kind of message are you trying to teach him?”

 “And what about you, Miss? Are you proud to show your kid and all these other young minds that its okay to be a bigot? That it’s okay to be uneducated?” 

“I beg your pardon?” 

“Then beg.” Kenma spits, his cat eyes burning holes into the mother’s skin. He’s completely unphased by the growing whispers exchanged between the parents. Kuroo watches proudly in the background, quietly cheering him on. “Skirts were worn by both men and women during the prehistoric times, and biologically speaking, it makes more sense if men were to wear skirts. They only stopped because people as close minded and uneducated as you feared femininity.” 

“So I should ask you the same question, Miss: have you no shame? Telling a small child he’s disgusting because we wanted to wear something that made him happy and comfortable. Is he hurting you?” 

The woman’s lips fall to an ‘o’ as she’s at a loss for words, and Kenma relishes in his growing confidence, bending down to Yuki to pick him up and rest him onto his hip. 

“You have no right to talk to my child that way.” Kenma clears his throat, taking a step back as he maintains eye contact with all the parents at sight. “Let me make this very clear: should you feel the need to take my place as his guardian and try to speak for me, I suggest you don’t.” 

Kenma let’s his words linger in the air and begins to walk away, Kuroo slipping through the sea of parents to walk alongside him. 

A smirk slips across his lips, looking down to Yuki clinging his around Kenma’s neck. 

“Wow,” Kuroo breathes, amusement lacing in his tone. “I didn’t think you had it in ya.” 

“Oh my god, I never wanna do that again.” Kenma twitches the cringe out from his body before pressing Yuki closer to him. “I hate talking to people.” 

“But you did a very good job, I’m actually super proud.” 

“Shut up,” Kenma mutters, locking his eyes onto the pavement ahead of him. 

He’s still shocked, unable to believe what had just transpired. He hated the feeling of everyone’s eyes fixed on him, and how quiet it was when he spoke. He hated having to speak up. 

But if had to do it again, he would. 

He’d do it again and again in one breath. 

#Kozume Kenma #Kenma Imagines #kenma x y/n #kenma x fem!reader #Haikyuu!! #Haikyuu hcs #haikyuu headcanons #Kenma x reader #kenma fluff #kenma angst #kenma headcanons #Haikyuu fluff #Kuroo Tetsuro #Kuroo fluff #Kuroo hcs #kuroo headcanons #Kenma hcs #Kenma Kozume #kenma kozume headcanons #haikyuu imagines

[apogrcpha-blog]

loving leaving [ p. jimin ]

words // 3.3K

pairings // park jimin x male!reader

warnings // mild self-hatred

summary // Jimin was perfect in every way imaginable and you didn’t want to taint pure white

Jimin was a kind of china, special, a bit fragile sometimes yet it often made him strong, he was beautiful and only meant for special occasions and special things, extraordinary things. China could be easily ruined, porcelain was quite fragile, the simple act of gravity was able to completely destroy it, Jimin was a lot stronger than that though there was something that was pulling him downward, it was you.

Something about the purity of Jimin made you very aware of how easy it was to taint, he was a strong person and you knew that very well but anyone could be influenced, anyone could be manipulated and innocence could be stripped from anyone, all that was needed was a hard push, something stronger than usual. Something so dark it could cover the sun and remove all brightness, it seemed like you were that person. Jimin hadn’t changed the slightest since you two had started dating, but he had become a lot closer and far more touchy, still you couldn’t help like feel you were doing something to him, a slow poison corrupting him.

“Can you come to practice tomorrow?” The question was asked out of nowhere and you stopped stroking Jimin’s hair for a second as you pondered your answer. His hair was extremely soft, another beautiful thing about Jimin.

“I’m sorry Jiminie, I’ve got work.” It was a lie and the truth at once, you did genuinely have to work but it wasn’t all day, you could come to their practice a few hours late but you didn’t really want to. You knew the rest of his members and they were very welcoming, a little protective but it had faded as you and Jimin had been dating for over half a year now, things were going stable and there was no real reason for them to be suspicious, still you felt uncomfortable with them. It was the feeling like they knew what was happening, they knew what kind of poison rested in your fingertips and they knew that Jimin would change as white went to a slight grey to a pitch black.

“You always have to work when I practice.” Jimin said with a pout and you felt a tinge of guilt though it was quickly replaced with a kind of right feeling, it wasn’t solid, it was shaky and wavy but you felt a little better, you were doing this for him. He would be better off but you were just too weak to pull through with a breakup, everyone indulged in their selfish desire sometimes, it was human nature and human weakness.

You shook your head with a small smile. “It’s because it’s the middle of the day, it’s normal work hours really.” Because it was true, sure you started earlier so you finished earlier which meant you could see them but most of the time their practice and your work overlapped perfectly so you couldn’t be there, it wasn’t something you wanted yet at the same time did, everything about it was conflicting but you decided not to think about it too much.

“Can’t you come after work?” You pondered your answer for a second, technically yes. Did you want that? You didn’t know. It was this constant fight between what was the right thing to do for yourself and what the right thing was to do for Jimin, both of them polar opposites whilst you were walking on a tightrope, balancing the two out no matter how impossible it was. Yet now you were close to falling as the rope thinned even further and your balance took more than a few harsh blows.

“Maybe, I’ll see okay?” You said with a small smile.

“Please do Y/N.”

“Anything for you, Jiminie.”

-8-

In the end you decided to come, you couldn't help yourself as you said a nice goodbye to your co-workers and were headed to your own apartment. Really it was more or less your and Jimin’s apartment, considering he slept there around every night and whenever he had some free time he either spent it with you or at your apartment so it was more a shared place than really your own. At first you didn’t mind, the literal opposite, you welcomed and loved it but with time your vision had changed, at first you hadn’t realised your tainting of Jimin, something you didn’t know about yet but now you did and weren’t as happy about the sharing. Jimin was better off if he stayed with his members, they would always be able to take care better wouldn’t darken him.

“Y/N!” Jimin’s enthusiasm made you realise he really hadn’t expected you, it was both a good thing and a bad thing. The distance was a little better, you wanted to keep a bit of distance from now on, make him realise and recognise your own darkness and remove himself from it instead of getting involved deeper. Yet at the same time you felt bad for being a bad boyfriend, he shouldn’t be so surprised that you decided to come watch him practice because it was basic things you were supposed to be, being together. Because of this you had gotten him a small bouquet along with a plushie you had spotted on your way, something to make it up even though you knew you couldn’t really.

“Jiminie, I finished early so I could both come and I got you something.” You said with a smile. In response the smile that was already on his face only grew as he took both gifts and gave you a kiss.

“You didn’t have to.” He said after the kiss.

You merely shrugged. “Probably should’ve, I mean the last time was more than a month ago.” It was longer, seven weeks and three days if you remembered correctly, seven weeks until you gave into the temptation and human desire. It made you feel weak yet at the same time it was something so human to do.

“You’re busy though.” Jimin responded and you shook your head, he was busy too but somehow still was always able to make time, sometimes it wasn’t much or it was rushed and hurried but he always managed to make some time for you or left sweet notes, small gifts, anything to make you feel loved. You forgot about it sometimes, you always tried and ended up arguing about it with yourself because you should do it and wanted to do it but didn’t want to draw Jimin any closer than he already was, yet it seemed that didn’t matter much because he would do it himself.

“You’re busier, I mean you’ve got a comeback coming and you work a lot harder for everything than I do.” Your job was just an office thing, sitting behind a computer, doing mindless tasks for most of the time whilst you just waited for the day to end. Whenever you and Jimin met up he always came from practice or was heading to practice, sometimes with teachers and sometimes it was just him who wanted to get better at something and would pour endless hours into it so he could get to the level where he wanted to be, you admired him deeply for that.

“Stil, you’ve got a life too.” You laughed and shook your head.

“It’s fine. I’m here to watch you dance though so it’s about time you started.” He grinned.

-8-

Jimin made you happy, Jimin had made you happy in ways you thought were impossible and so many times it was hard to count, he was your sun in every way, even the negatives. It was blinding and sometimes harmful, though you were quite sure it wasn’t as harmful to you as it was to the sun. Jimin was so bright whereas you felt like some kind of darkness that took over the sun, like an eclipse, all light sucked out from such a bright fiery source, it was something that should never happen but you were human.

It was hard to deny yourself all of these things even if you knew it was bad for Jimin, even if you knew you didn't’ deserve all the love and pleasure he was delivering to you for free, it was still hard. Human temptation and desire were able to easily override whatever logic you tried to add to your irrational yet rational decisions.

It didn’t help that you felt like JImin was starting to notice too, he seemed a bit more distant but the frown on his face made you realise he was thinking it was him, like he was doing something wrong as if he could ever do something wrong like that, it made your heart ache even more and your mind felt even more frustrated because you were just too weak to break up, to remove what you didn’t deserve and to make sure he wouldn’t end up with a dark shroud around him either, it was better, for both of you.

The better decision was clear for you but there was some part of yourself that just didn’t allow you to pull through with it, even if you were able to convince yourself it was better for you and Jimin because Jimin deserved so much better and you didn’t deserve a shred of it, it was hard to really do it, to break up with someone you’ve grown so close to because being friends would be all too big of a temptation, it was all or nothing and the latter was extremely hard, it would be like diving headfirst into a black hole, you could expect misery but you could never be too sure.

Frustration only grew as you were unable to do anything and kept staring at your phone until you came up with a ludicrous decision, something so stupid you really shouldn’t do it but it made no sense, and that was why it was the logical thing to do. Convincing yourself fully would be impossible, bets wouldn’t happen and there was nothing else really but to leave it up to chance, it was fair, equal and there was no logic about it that could make you convince yourself otherwise, this was it.

It didn’t take too long to find a coin nor to flip it.

Tails.

-8-

Jimin had been trying to reach Y/N for at least ten times, it was probably more but he fell asleep in the middle of it and ever since waking up it had been ten times. There was a part of him that ached, his heart pounding worse than it had ever done before.

Y/N: I can’t do this

Y/N: I love you Jimin

Y/N: That’s why this is the right thing to do

Y/N: I love you and I’m saying goodbye

Y/N: I’m breaking up with you

Y/N: Take care x

That was yesterday near midnight and ever since Jimin had been trying to reach Y/N but nothing had worked, calls were never responded to, the billions of texts he had send were unread and ignored. Jimin went as far as emails, nothing. Absolutely nothing, he knew Y/N couldn’t avoid it, couldn’t have because he worked behind a screen and had to have opened his email just once and seen the billions that had flooded in from Jimin, was Y/N ignoring him?

It made him angry and frustrated at both himself and Y/N, there was this conflict of who was to blame. Jimin had always tried his best to manage dating him and everything surrounding his work, it had worked, it always did. They had lasted through a small tour when they hadn’t seen each other for two months, it could work and it had worked so Jimin couldn’t remotely grasp why Y/N said he was doing the right thing because it certainly wasn’t breaking up and never responding to him again. It made his heart break, it made him broken and angry at himself that he never thought about this but Y/N too because this was just stupid, plain stupid.

Jimin didn’t know if it was his fault, partially perhaps but never fully. He had always asked Y/N if him being away so much was okay with him and without a doubt he’d always accepted it because he loved seeing Jimin happy and doing what he loved. Jimin had always opened conversations for him to admit if there was something wrong, they were never forced, always open and kind but Y/N never complained, it was so unclear to him. Sure, recently he had been busier but that was all ready, the only thing he felt frustrated at was that he hadn’t noticed before, hadn’t noticed that there was something wrong and hadn’t been able to try and fix it. Jimin didn’t even fully see that as his fault, he tried to but couldn’t, because there was nothing to notice about Y/N, his behaviour was the same as always and nothing had changed. Jimin really tried to blame himself because it was easier than be left with unanswered phone calls and texts but there wasn’t much he could blame himself for when Y/N had always been so accepting of everything that was happening.

Despite this frustration he couldn’t find it in himself to blame Y/N because he had always been hopelessly in love with him, even if he never admitted it himself like that. Since meeting him something was just so appealing, attractive and charming that Jimin wasn’t able to accurately describe it with words so he didn’t and rather showed this through physical love, cuddling, kissing and sex. To Jimin it was the best way to show clear love, it was passionate and transparent compared to words, there was no interpretation especially with the words that accompanied his deeds of love. Jimin had fallen so deep the surface had disappeared, part of him was angry but it wouldn’t have gone any other way even if Jimin knew about what would eventually happen, he was smitten.

It was just disappointing in the end, it saddened him deeply and he was already missing Y/N desperately even though not even twenty-four hours had passed yet, it was strange to fall in love with one human so deeply but Jimin had always liked it, well, up until now.

-8-

Yoongi needed to do something, Jimin had changed after the break-up. He was a lot more timid, sader and often more silent. Whenever they had any kind of appearance it was easy for him to keep up an act that was identical to whom he used to be but Yoongi noticed it was quite draining for the younger to keep going as he napped a lot more than he had ever done really, it made Yoongi angry and sad at once. Sad because Jimin didn’t deserve that misery and angry because he had no idea why Y/N had just left, why he had left because they were so extremely happy together. Jimin cared too much to take any kind of very aggressive action like confrontation but Yoongi was a lot less timid about this issue.

It had genuinely taken him some time to track Y/N down who had seemingly disappeared from the face of the earth, in the end he found a workplace. Y/N had moved across the country to Gwangju for work apparently, that was probably the reason why they hadn’t seen him in the two months it had been since his and Jimin’s breakup, he moved to an entirely different city, it was quite easy to miss and Yoongi still considered it quite a miracle he had been able to find Y/N’s new workplace, even if it was a bit stalker like due to his methods, he needed answers for himself but mostly for Jimin.

Finding Y/N once he had a city turned out to be surprisingly easy as he somehow ended up finding a friend of him and talking to that friend who gave him an adres, Yoongi was happy that the two of them had similar opinions, their breakup had no reason and whilst Y/N friend just wanted an explanation as to why he would stop being with someone he loved, Yoongi needed answers and something better than some weak ass excuse.

And now came the moment everything had been leading up to, Yoongi felt quite confident as he knocked on the apartment door and waited. He heard muffled footsteps and he also knew Y/N lived alone, he would get his answers no matter what.

“Y/N.” Yoongi said, his voice was calm and a little drawn out. He looked surprised, very surprised and it was the response Yoongi was hoping to get.

“Your concept of loving includes leaving someone who needs you? Care to explain that.” Without a doubt he was getting a bit more angry, he wasn’t too emotional but it just made him angry, everything about it. Gritting his teeth as he waited for a response, for a moment he wondered what Jimin would’ve done were their roles in reverse or were Jimin here in general.

Y/N stared at Yoongi for a while as he waited, that was when Yoongi noticed tears were threatening to spill.

“Jimin was the best thing that ever happened to me, literally,” He started to choke up and Yoongi for once decided to remain silent instead of angerly spew, which had been his original idea. “Do you think I like this or something? Do you genuinely believe that?”

“Why did you do it then? If both of you are miserable there’s no reason for you to have broken up with him.” Yoongi said, he had a few ideas as to why but he wasn’t too sure and none of it made too much sense. He knew things weren’t as simple as Yoongi hoped they would be, a happy couple didn’t separate because they were happy.

“Because it’s better, it’s better for Jimin and please, just hear me out. I don’t care if you’re going to shout at me afterwards or really don’t care whatever you do but I just need you to listen now.” Yoongi frowned but nodded.

“I know we were happy, I know he was happy and I was happy but just, do you ever see yourself in a certain way but others don’t? You know like you think you’re annoying but others say you’re not and no matter how many times they say that you can’t process it because how can you not be annoying? With your voice, appearance and whatnot. It’s the same in our relationship, or well, it was the same. I never felt good enough, never felt like I deserved Jimin because he’s perfect, he’s special, he is an utter sweetheart and the best person I have known which is why he needs someone better, someone who is equally as good instead of me.”

Yoongi understood the feeling and whilst the burning fiery rage hadn’t disappeared completely, it had certainly faded from a raging flame to a small ember because it was a feeling he understood too well, something he didn’t like to think about too much, something from his past that he had let go but something that had haunted him for a longer time than he had considered as at the mere mention he felt shivers due to familiarity.

“My idea of loving someone is leaving them, yes. It’s not good, it’s not enjoyable but it’s the best I can do.”

authors’ note // so this was mostly written out of experience with how I have felt, mostly with friends, so it could not make complete sense. also my photoshop is still acting up so maybe sometimes soon i can make good ‘graphic’s to go along with the fics. Also, really this is just all going to be male!readers, mlm or wlw fics.

#park jimin #bts #jimin x reader #bts x reader #male!reader #mlm #park jimin x male!reader #self-hatred #;; my writing #;; park jimin

[footiefanficwonderland]

Silver Lining (James Rodriguez OS)

Ever since he has moved to Munich, James Rodriguez has been nothing but miserable. However, a playful, perky blonde may make him realize there is a silver lining in all his misery after all.

A/N: I know I should be working on your requests right now instead of writing random fluff, bit this was just so cute to write I just couldn’t help it. My apologies. I hope you enjoy this and that you won’t hate me too much. Lots of love xo

James started at the invitation in his hand as the negative energy built up inside of him. It was the invitation for the annual gala dinner in honor of the beginning of the new season. Usually, black-tie events like this one didn't make him irritated nor angry. But usually, he wasn't the one who has just arrived at the new club, in the country whose language he couldn’t even begin to understand, let alone speak. Usually, he wasn't the one whose girlfriend has just dumped him 10 minutes ago because she had no intention of leaving her whole life just to travel across the continent to support his career choices. Usually, he had more than one friend and usually that friend wasn't an overly energetic German guy who seemed to have the ability to make friends with everyone, even a plant.

Yet, there was a first time for everything.

Angrily, James crumped the invitation in his fist, for it only reminded him at how lonely and pathetic he felt here, and as he was going through the hallway, he absentmindedly threw the paper ball to the right. In retrospect, James didn't have the last clue where he expected the ball to land. Frankly, he only wanted to get it out of his sight.

However, a split second after, a shout came out of the direction he threw it in. Stopping in his track, James took a few steps back. Of course, the door of one of the offices that were located down the hall was open and the paper ball flew right on the desk.  His luck.

Behind the office desk stood a young blonde with a puzzled look on her face, holding his invitation in her hand. A flash of anger appeared on her face but disappeared as soon as her eyes met his. It seemed like she was going to scold him but changed her mind.

„Is this yours?“ she asked politely.

„No, I mean yes but-“ James stuttered. For some reason he felt nervous under her gaze even though he didn't know if it was the possibility of her being angry at him or something completely unrelated that was making him so nervous.

„It's mine but I've been meaning to throw it away. I didn't realize I was throwing it in your office, I'm sorry.“

When she smiled, James was able to pinpoint the reason of his nervousness. He was sure he hasn't seen such a charming smile ever since he arrived to Munich.

„Everything is alright,“ she said putting the paper in the trash can next to her desk.

„I'm Abigail,“ she smiled, extending her hand over her desk. „I work in the HR.“

James, who was still standing at the doorway, went inside and shook her hand. „I'm James. James Rodriguez. No. 11 on the pitch,“ he explained because, for some reason, he wasn't sure if she knew who he was, and he just wanted her to remember him.

Abby laughed a little bit at his introduction. „I know who you are.“

„You do?“ James asked, genuinely surprised and eternally happy that someone knew about him. He seemed to be invisible around here.

„I work in the HR, I know who everyone is,“ she giggled. „Also, you are James Rodriguez, of course I know who you are,“ she quickly added.

Her smile must've been contagious because James couldn't help but smile whenever she did, and his was that big goofy grin that he worried she'd find ridiculous. Also, he noticed that she was talking to him in English ever since she laid her eyes on him, and for that he was eternally grateful.

He wanted to say something more, to talk more, to talk with her for hours. He didn't know whether it was because she was very beautiful, or because he was just happy to make conversation with someone without it being awkward. Just as it happens in situations like these, he was of course unable to think of anything else to say.

„I hope I'll see you around James. If you need anything, please come see me. Even if its' just to say hi.“ Abby said smiling, as she sat back on her chair. James took this as his cue to leave.

He wasn't quite sure if she was just being polite or there was something more to it. But he caught himself liking the idea of coming to see her as frequent as possible.

….

„Is this seat taken?“

Sitting on the stairs in front of the club headquarters, James heard familiar voice behind him. He turned around only to see Abby standing there, in all the glory of her soft blonde waives falling over her breasts down to her waist and her Barbie pink pencil skirt with a ruffle just below her knees.

It has been a few days since he met her and even though he wanted to, he never found an excuse to come see her. At first he was excited about it, and it seemed like a marvelous idea. Finally making friends with someone here- especially someone that pretty- made him get up from bed in the morning with joy. But the more he thought about it, the more he questioned himself, until he finally convinced himself that she was just being nice and she probably didn't have any desire of him bothering her.

Thus, he smiled somewhat shyly at her, nodding his head. Abby flattened her skirt and set down on stairs beside him.

„Tagescafe Schwabing,“ Abby said after a short while, her eyes fixed on something in the distance.

„Huh?“ James asked in confusion, turning to face her.

„It is a small cafe in the Hohenzollernstraße. It's very cozy and cute, and what's best about it is the fact that it's not crowded with people. You can go there and sit for hours reading, working... even playing video games- no one will bother you.“ Abby explained. „Oh and their latte is heavenly!“ she added excitedly.

„Why are you telling me this?“ James asked confused.

Instead of answering, Abby stretched her arm out for him to shake. “I'm Abby.“

James was even more puzzled now. Almost offended. Could it really be possible that she has forgotten about him already?

„I know who you are. We've met the other day, remember?“ he answered calmly.

Abby looked him directly in the eyes, her emerald green ones sparkling in the sun. „No, you met  Abigail from the HR. But after 5 o'clock, I'm no longer working. Then I'm just Abby,“ she said with a smile. Her smile seemed so warm and genuine. With the corner of his eye, James glanced at his watch. It was 5:30 now.

„So, who are you after work, James Rodriguez, No.11?“ she teased, using the exact same words that he used to introduce himself the other day.

James couldn't help but laugh. „Just James.“

„Okay James. Now that we officially know each other on and off work, I'm going to tell you something,“ Abby announced in a serious voice. He waited for her to continue.

„The other day, you were mad about something, am I right?“ She asked, but as he didn't answer, she continued. „But it wasn't just something. It was the invitation, wasn't it? It reminded you that you are all alone here. In an unfamiliar country. Whose language you don’t speak. It reminded you that all your friends, all familiar faces are miles away, and that you are all alone. In fact you weren't even mad at all, were you? You were just lonely.“

She was still looking ahead as she talked and James couldn't dare to look at her. His eyes were fixed at his hands resting on his knees. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. This woman was reading him like an open book.

„How do you do that?“ he asked quietly after a while, the color of his voice indicating that he was half amused half scared.

Abby laughed at his expression. „I work in the HR. It's my job to know all of that. Besides,“ she continued, „I’ve been there. I've been you. I was one of the best students in my university, but there weren't many job opportunities in my city. So, when I got the offer to complete my internship here, I immediately took it. It was the best and the hardest decision I ever had to make. It was a good job. I knew it could be the stepping stone for my career and the opportunity to create the life that my family has wanted me to have. But i hated it. I have never been more alone in my life. I didn't speak the language so well, so it was hard for me to make friends with anyone at work. I lived alone, I ate alone. I spent every day alone. The highlight of my day was the evening when I'd call my mum and dad and lie to them that everything was fine. I would lie about how happy I was, how this job was everything I ever wanted, how many friends I've made. I even bought a cat!“ She exclaimed to emphasize her point. “I am a dog person, but I bought a cat because a dog couldn't fit in my tiny apartment.“

As if realizing she has gone too far, Abby chuckled and waived her hand dismissively. „Anyhow, it was awful. I tried to think positively, you know, motivate myself with those stupid quotes. But then I realized that if  I wasn't going to quit my job- which wasn't an option- I had to suck it up and deal with it. So, I used the time when I felt completely alone, in the best way I could. I did everything I've been putting off for years. I read almost all of the books on my shelf. I enrolled in a program at the gym. I explored the city. I found so many cute places-  Tagescafe Schawbing is one of them. They helped me realize that you could spend time alone and still have fun. You should visit it sometimes.“

When she was finished, James just looked at her for a few moments, processing everything she has just said. „Is that why you have been talking to me in English ever since we met?“ he asked after a while.

Abby simply nodded. „You were already struggling having to talk to everyone around here in German. I figured I didn't have to make it even harder,“ she confessed.

And for that, James felt the sudden urge to hug her. Not because she was pretty. Not because he could potentially like her. Not because he already liked the idea of someone like that existing in this new chapter of his life. Not even because he missed having someone to hug. He felt the need to hug her because that was the most considerate anyone has been towards him for a while. And that was all he needed.

He didn't hug her though. The scenarios playing in his head were usually much better when they stayed just in his head. So he just smiled and thanked her genuinely.  

„As for the gala dinner, I'd love to go with you,“ Abby said all of a sudden.

James couldn't even explain it but he could feel his cheeks turning red. „That is really sweet of you, but if you're doing it because you pity me, please don't. I'll be alright.“

„Are you kidding? I've been rambling for at least15 minutes now and you didn't interrupt me once. You are a great listener, James, and I have tons of problems. By the end of the evening, you'll be the one pitying me.“ Abby joked, trying to lighten up the mood.

For the first time since she’s met him, she heard James laugh. Genuinely laugh. And it was a beautiful laugh indeed.

He pretended to think about her offer. „I think I'll risk it,“ he chuckled.

They sat in silence for a little while. It was Friday and the end of working hours, so almost everyone has already left the stadium. The parking lot was becoming more empty by the minute. James was dreading the moment when Abby would get up to leave as well. The Abby that she's told him about was a lonely cat owner. But that was from the time when she was still an intern. She seemed to have such a fun, outgoing personality, she probably had tons of friends now and much better things to do than get her pretty skirt dirty by sitting on the staircase with him.

James examined her as she raised her arms and gathered her blonde waives to tie them into a ponytail, and he wondered how old could she be now. Judging by her story she was probably around his age, maybe a bit younger, but he couldn't tell for sure.

„Do you have a navy blue suit?“ she asked out of the blue.

„I don’t think so,“ James answered, thinking.

„Well, let’s go find one. It'll go great with the dress I'll be wearing,“ she said picking up her bag.

„Wait, now?“

„Yeah. You don't have other plans do you?“ Abby teased and James narrowed his eyes at her good-naturedly.

„Okay, but under one condition. We'll also look for a dress for you to wear to our date after the gala.“

It was a statement more than a question, and this time it was Abby who was taken by surprise. To be completely honest, James took even himself by surprised when those words escaped his mouth. He wasn't quite sure when he realized he wanted to invite her for a date but apparently he did.

„What if i told you i don't date people from work?“ Abby asked.

„Then I'd have to remind you that after 5 you are not 'Abigail from HR', you are 'just Abby'. And I was planning on taking you on a dinner date anyway.“ He smirked.

Abby couldn't help but laugh. „Deal,“ she said as she stood up, extending one arm for him to take, so she could help pull him up.

„Wait, how come you already have a dress when we've only talked about the gala just now?“ James remembered to asked as they were walking towards the parking lot.

„Oh honey,“ Abby chuckled. „I am the head assistant of the HR manager, which means 'of the record'“, she said making the sign with her fingers, „ I'm running the HR. I got invited way before you did.“ She informed him, a gloating smile on her face.

James was impressed. „It's good I always had the thing for powerful women,“ he only half joked.

Abby threw her head back laughing and that laugh made James feel better about himself than he did in a long time.

#james rodriguez #james rodriguez one shot #james rodriguez imagine #james rodriguez fanfiction #james rodriguez fanfic #james rodriguez one shots #james rodriguez imagines #bayern munich #bayern munchen #football fanfic #football fanfiction #football imagine #football one shot #footballer imagine #footballer one shot #footballer fanfic #footballer fanfiction #fc bayern #fc bayern fanfic #fc bayern imagine

[schemingneko]

Stealing All the Glory

(A pure fluff Kuroo x Oikawa fic) [Read it on AO3]

Kuroo sits on the edge of a cushion and stares at the empty beer bottle in his hands.  Their relationship was starting to get...complicated.  Early in their friendship, Kuroo had always found himself with a smartass comeback to whatever Oikawa said, usually annoyed with the pompous setter.  However, the two of them had spent a lot of time together during the last four months--in the two college lectures they shared, during volleyball practice, after practice when Bokuto insisted that all the first years on the team hang out together, during their secret strategy sessions to make the team better since the senior leadership on their team sucked--and things had started to change.

“I mean, he can do what he wants, but I really think that Professor Ito is asking too much of us with this final project.  I have four other classes I have to study for.  Don’t professors think about that kind of thing?”

Oikawa is draped sideways over the overstuffed chair that barely fits in Kuroo’s single room apartment.  The only thing that isn’t contained within the room is his tiny bathroom and a closet along the west wall.

“Tetsu-chan, are you even listening to me?  Have you been sniffing the chemicals in your chemistry lab or something?  You know that stuff rots your brain,” Tooru says in that unaffected, yet always slightly sarcastic tone he uses. He stretches his legs out, long and muscled, and kicks them over the chair's arm and onto the floor.

“Tetsurou,” Tooru tries again, more seriously, “Seriously, are you listening to me?”

It is clearly annoying Oikawa that Kuroo isn’t paying attention to him.  Oikawa thinks the world has nothing better to do than pay him attention.

“I’m thinking,” Kuroo grumbles and flips a page of his anatomy textbook, even though he hadn’t read a single word on the previous page.

“About what?  About me?” Tooru asks, and there is a hopeful lilt in his voice.

“No.” Yes.

“Well, I highly recommend thinking about me.  I’ve been told it is a very pleasant thing to do,” Oikawa says as he continues angrily thumbing through a book he checked out from the library for his final project in Professor Ito’s class, a class they happened to share.

“Can we talk?” Kuroo asks as he sets his beer bottle atop the kotatsu.

Oikawa, always one for talking, endlessly talking, is unusually quiet as he closes his library book with a quiet, “Yes.”  

Fuck, Oikawa is never this serious.  Kuroo can tell Oikawa knows something is up.

Kuroo is very aware of Oikawa as the other man takes a seat right next to Kuroo and pushes his legs under the kotatsu until they bump up against Kuroo’s.

“I don’t know how to say what I need to say,” Kuroo mumbles, trying not to lean into the space where their bodies touch.  He likes the solid warmth of Tooru.

“Well, just so you know, I’m pretty sure I know what you’re going to say, Tetsu-chan,” Oikawa says quietly.  “Did Kouta-chan tell you?”

Kuroo, already confused by his own feelings, is now also confused by what Tooru is saying. Luckily, one of the few things he has figured out since meeting Oikawa Tooru during their first college volleyball practice, is that if you are confused by anything Oikawa says, just wait, he will keep babbling and eventually explain it.

“God, he did, didn’t he?” Oikawa whines as he dramatically drops his head onto the top of the kotatsu and gives a low groan.  “I told him not to tell.”

Kuroo hums, giving Tooru a cue to let him know he is listening, but not revealing that he has absolutely no clue what Oikawa is talking about.

“Ugh, I’m sorry if you're uncomfortable with it.  I hoped that you’d be okay with it, maybe even want it too, but I should have known better than to get my hopes up.  This is Iwa-chan all over again.”

Then, to Kuroo’s amazement, there is purposeful silence as Oikawa looks up at him.  Oikawa usually likes to fill silence with the sound of his own voice, so it is heavy and oppressive as Kuroo watches his friend still crumpled and draped over the kotatsu.

“Well?  Say something?  Don’t make it worse than I know it is,” Oikawa finally huffs, absolutely far too dramatically for what the situation calls for.

“What in the hell are you talking about, Tooru?” Kuroo asks as he knocks his knee into one of Oikawa’s legs.  He bumps the leg again when Tooru remains quiet.

“You know,” Oikawa says, flapping one hand feebly in the air before letting it drop back down to where his forehead is pressed against the table. “The thing.”

“The thing?” Kuroo echoes.

“The thing I have for you.  The crush.  For heaven’s sake, I keep falling for straight friends, so please just put me out of my misery,” Oikawa grumbles and hides his face in his arms.

Straight friends.   Kuroo starts laughing, ugly and loud, and Oikawa immediately snaps up, his expression saying just how scandalized he is that Kuroo is laughing about this.

“Tetsu-chan, you don’t have to be mean,” he pouts and moves to stand, maybe to leave, but Tetsurou grabs Tooru’s arm and hauls him back to the floor.  

“You ego-driven idiot,” Tetsurou tells him with a smile, one that is soft and happy and no longer tinged with worry.  “I have a crush on you too.”

It isn’t often that Oikawa is struck silent if it isn’t of his own volition and only for the effect.  This isn't that, Tooru seems to be genuinely speechless.  He faces Kuroo and mouths words, but no sound comes out, even though he is obviously trying.  He stares at Tetsurou with the most dumbfounded expression Kuroo has ever seen on that pretty asshole’s face.

“Tetsurou, I swear, if you’re teasing me...” Tooru finally says, but there is so much hope in his voice, as if he desperately wants what Kuroo told him to be true.

“Not teasing,” Kuroo says with a smirk and reaches over to take Tooru’s face in his hands.  Only a few loud heartbeats pass before Kuroo leans in the rest of the way to soundly kiss Oikawa Tooru.

It is sweet and soft and everything Tetsurou had hoped it would be, but nothing he had really expected.  Honestly, Tooru just doesn’t seem like the gentle type.

Of course Oikawa ruins it in the next breath, when he pulls away and moans, “Tetsu-chan, I wanted to be the first one to kiss you.  You stole my glory.”

“And it was sweet, sweet victory stealing it from you, Tooru,” Tetsurou says, giving Tooru the very best cheshire cat grin before kissing him again.

#kuroo x oikawa #KuroOi #fluffy fanfiction