#speaking of i actually have a pride month piece cooking this year for once...

[anniebrainrots]

Family

In which you reflect upon yours and Technoblade’s shared past. 

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warnings: mentions of violence (nothing too graphic), slight gore, angst, SBI family dynamic, no y/n 

wc: 3.2k 

notes: i’m sorry if there are any grammatical errors, i really tried my best :,) 

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You can’t remember a time when you and Technoblade actually fought. You had always been attached at the hip, you had watched him grow up from a young boy full of ambition and fire to an accomplished man with strong ideals and a fierce personality. That’s one of the things that you had prided yourself in, well, that and your impeccable ability to calm the pink-haired piglin. 

You remember the first time the voices had appeared; he had come to you after he had gone hunting with Phil for the first time. He had mentioned his first kill, how it had awoken something in him, how it almost felt like he had been running on autopilot when he shot the arrow. You hadn’t known how to talk to him through his episodes then, though with years you had learned what to say to not set him off. 

The first time he had killed a man hadn’t been that long after his first hunt. A bandit had come to your small camp in the forest in the middle of the night. You couldn’t have been older than twelve at the time, Techno being thirteen. You had been held at knifepoint, held in front of Phil and Wilbur while the hybrid had gone out to get more firewood when your campfire dwindled. You remember seeing horror cross the two faces in front of you before the grip on your neck had loosened and a man had dropped right to the floor. You had tried your best to erase traces of that night from your memory, but the thin scar on your neck always made a point to remind you of it. 

He had changed since then, an insatiable thirst for bloodlust had festered deep within him, unable to be satisfied. He hadn’t been too good at controlling the voices at that time, and the first time he had lost control in your presence he couldn’t bear to look at you for a week out of shame. It had taken the help of Phil, Wilbur, and even Tommy to talk him out of separating himself from you. After that, your bond with him had only grown stronger. When you had left the family to pursue your own adventure with Techno, you had learned how to talk to him, to ease the voices that always screamed at him. 

The second time he had lost control around you it hadn’t been directed at you. The both of you had entered a tournament for money, and the result had been devastating for you. Techno had gotten his long hair cut short while your wings had ended up getting chopped off. It had been a foul play, ambushed from the back while you had fought another in front of you. Techno had seen nothing but red, finishing off both people before consoling you the best he could. You had mourned the loss of your flight and your precious wings for weeks, not eating and barely alive, according to Techno. He had half the mind to send you back to Phil, doubting his abilities to protect you but you had insisted to stay with him, that you would simply be too ashamed to look your father in the eyes and tell him why your wings had no longer been on your back. 

Years later, even though you still held the loss of your wings close to your heart, you had learned to move on with the help of your companion, finding solace in causing chaos and taking down unjust governments. Naturally, when Wilbur and Tommy had called upon you both to help them with their revolution against a tyrant who had taken charge of their old country, you had been more than happy to come. 

The first few weeks had been spent catching up with your brothers, and you had exchanges of your adventures and their experiences running their country. You couldn’t help but notice darkness festering deep within Wilbur’s eyes, and one night he broke, asking Tommy if they had been the bad guys all along. You couldn’t bring yourself to tell them you had followed them that night, eavesdropping on their conversation. You had confided in Technoblade, the piglin merely dismissing your concerns for your brother as he urged you to start preparing for the war. You had tried to ignore it, the way Wilbur’s tongue dripped with acid every time he had spoken of L’manburg, the way Tommy had flinched when Wilbur would walk into the same room, the way Wilbur constantly disappeared in the dead of the night when he had thought no one was watching. But you had been, you had always been watching him. 

The day he hid behind Dream, the man that had nearly killed Tommy twice in their war against the Dream SMP, you had nearly taken it upon yourself to incapacitate Wilbur. Technoblade, as war-hungry as he always had been, paid no attention to this, which had angered you greatly. Once you had learned of Wilbur’s planting of hundreds of TNT underneath L’manburg, you had tried to talk him out of it. 

“L’manburg is a fallen nation, birdie. It’s done nothing but cause pain for everyone, so why does it have to exist? You wouldn’t understand, you weren’t there when we built it, so stay out of our fucking business or leave.” The nickname that Wilbur had given you in your youth sounded like nothing but pure venom and ice, and his words had stung you far more than anything else. 

That night, you had approached Technoblade; you couldn’t help but notice how you had been falling apart due to how busy he had become with his preparations.  It had been obvious to you how stressed he was, spacing out more frequently while you had conversed. When you brought up your concern over Wilbur’s plans, he lashed out. 

“God, you’re so annoyin’, always havin’ concern over what Wilbur wants to do or not. The man ran the country way before we even got here so why do you care so much?” 

“I’m worried because everyone’s life is on the line here, Techno. You’re telling me you’d let your brothers fight in a war that will end up in explosions? What about Tommy, you’re gonna let him go through with this? Why can’t you see that Wilbur’s gone crazy, and he needs to be stopped?” 

“I can’t let you do that. No matter what you want, I promised to help Wilbur and if you don’t agree with his ideals, then just leave. We don’t want you here.” For the second time that night alone, you had been told to leave by some of the most important people in your lives. You choked back the rising sob in your throat, letting your sadness dissipate and anger take over. You had marched right out of his base, not a single call of your name from the man you had just spoken with, and you had concluded that that would be the last time you would talk to him. 

You had gone deep into the forest into your small cottage, taking all of your valuables and putting them in your ender chest, stuffing food and all of your weapons into your bags where they had fit. You had taken a few pieces of TNT, no one needed the rest of these items anyways. You had been deep enough in the forest that the explosion would not be heard from anywhere near PogTopia, so you had quickly ignited the TNT and watched as your house exploded onto tiny remnants. A small crater had been left in its place, small enough to pass off as a creeper explosion in the night. 

Your second stop had been to Tommy’s quarters, where you had found him sitting by his bed. 

He had looked up at you in slight confusion, noting your packed bags and outdoor attire. He had wondered if you were going to go scouting in L’manburg and almost wanted to ask if he could come, but you had cut him off before he could. 

You handed him a sword, the first one you had ever made with your own hands when you were barely his age. 

“What’s this for? And why are you dressed like that?” 

You gave him a watery smile, “this sword helped me survive all this time, so I hope it serves you well in the war. And I can’t fight alongside you anymore, Tommy. Technoblade and Wilbur had made that very clear tonight.” 

“What? Wilbur? I’ll go speak to him right now if he’s makin’ you leave. You can’t leave, you just can’t!” Tommy stood to his full height, arms wrapping themselves around your smaller form. You patted his back, offering words of comfort. 

That night, you had left with a heavy heart, and despite your rather unpleasant last experiences with Will and Techno, you couldn’t help but to think of them fondly from time to time. 

That led to where you are now, in the Tundra, in a humble cottage in the middle of a clearing. There’s a village nearby, with wonderful farmers offering you discounted golden carrots for all the help you provided for them in the past 6 months. 

You never did find out the outcome of that war, and something tells you that it didn’t end in celebrations. You traveled far enough that even news from L’manburg would be unlikely to reach all the way here. Still, though, you can’t help but wonder where Technoblade is, if he’s been taking care of himself, if he’s even still alive. You snort at that, of course he’s still alive; Technoblade never dies. 

One day, you wake up with a slightly more cheery attitude than most other mornings. You prance around your house, humming songs to yourself while you clean and cook. It’s quiet, like it always is, and sometimes you find yourself wishing you’re back to the old days, when everything was loud, chaotic, and bloody. The silence, however, is a luxury you never knew you needed. 

Your black cape and golden crown (one that Techno gave you in order to match with him), hangs in your closet, unused. 

You make sure to polish the crown once a week, it being a gift from a man you harbored feelings for since your youth, you couldn’t bear to leave it to collect dust. You sigh wistfully, placing the newly polished crown on your head while looking at your reflection in the mirror. 

You can’t help but notice the way your features have softened, given your lifestyle with Techno over the years, you were almost never given a break from all of the bloodshed. Your eyes are brighter, and your face gleamed with a newfound glow, one that had always been stained by dirt and grime from the battlefield. You note faint scars running down your arms, a brief moment of insecurity passing through you as you remember the perfectly clean complexion the village women had. 

You’re cut off by your thoughts by a rapid and harsh knock on your front door, and you rush to take off the crown and place it back in your closet and head back downstairs. It’s odd, almost no one visits the Tundra, so the very idea that someone is knocking on your door is already incredibly bizarre. You figure it’s probably a wandering trader, a very impatient one sounding from the hurried knocks. 

You open the door roughly and step back slightly in shock. Phil stares back at you with equal emotion in his eyes, he obviously wasn’t expecting you to answer the door. Your gaze shifts to the man by his shoulders, hanging limply with his head down. 

“Help,” is all Phil’s able to say before you quickly wrap your arms around Techno’s midsection and lead him to lay down on your couch. Blood pools around his waist staining your cushions, but you can’t even acknowledge that. He’s passed out and pale, so you make quick work to tend to his injuries, finding him improperly wrapped in loose bandages. 

After cleaning his injuries, the worst of which being a stab wound on his midsection and a large gash on the arm, you wrap him with bandages and give him healing potions to speed up the recovery. With the help of your adopted father, you move Techno to your bed, closing the door before joining Phil on the floor near the fireplace. 

Phil watches you sit down next to him, eyeing your bloody hands before blinking away to stare at the flickering flame. He also notices your wings, or lack thereof, but chooses to stay silent. 

“What happened? Why is Techno like that?” 

He’s silent for a moment before answering, “after the big battle, they reclaimed L’manburg but reinstituted Tubbo as the new president. Techno didn’t like that, so he fought back. It was him against everyone else. After that he fled to escape but someone was able to shoot him down with an arrow and stab him. I knocked the guy out and tried to fix Techno, but I couldn’t do that with everyone chasing us down. So, I took him on a boat and ended up here. Gave him enough healing potions to not die, but I barely had enough. Thank god we found you.” 

You go quiet at that, a question annoying you at the back of your mind. 

“Did he do it?” From your tone, the man realizes you’re referring to Wilbur, and his heart clenches at the fresh memory. 

“He did. I barely got there in time, mate. I tried to talk him out of it but…” he trails off, shoving his face into his hands to hide his tears, “I killed him.” 

Your shoulders slump in sympathy, about to comfort him, “Phil, it’s not your faul—” 

“No. I literally killed him. When he pressed the button, he gave me his sword and…” this time he lets out a weak laugh, “did I do the right thing, birdie? Was I right to kill my own son?” 

You can’t wrap your head around that. “Wilbur’s dead?” 

Phil cries quietly to himself, nodding his head to affirm your thoughts, making you let out a small ‘oh’. 

You’re at a loss for words. Sure, Wilbur had been nothing but toxic to you the last time you had seen him, but that didn’t overshadow the years of love and affection he had given you in your childhood. Deep down, you knew the Wilbur you had seen last had been nothing but the shell of the person that gave you piggy back rides when you were learning to fly so you can experience being off your feet, of the person that bandaged your knee when you had tripped and had been too scared to tell Phil you had gotten hurt, of the person that sang you songs on his guitar whenever you felt restless at night because he knew they helped you sleep. Wilbur is—was—your brother. 

“He went crazy, Phil. Too clouded by his emotions to think straight. He endangered the lives of everyone around him. He wasn’t Wilbur anymore at that time, Phil. He was just a man that had lost everything, too scared to rebuild from scratch that he just destroyed his work so no one else could have it. It was like watching a child who lost their favorite toy. Jesus, Phil, if you’d seen him then…” You watch the crackling fire, words caught in your throat, unable to finish the sentence, silence lying heavily in the air. “He needed to be stopped.” 

The man you saw as your father goes quiet, and from the corner of your eyes you see just how this man aged. Despite being immortal, Phil always had what you called ‘sleepy eyes’ referring to the way he seems to constantly have bags underneath his eyes that made him look sleep deprived despite being well-rested; a trait that Wilbur inherited, and Techno had purely because of his lack of a proper sleep schedule. Tommy used to tease them about it, despite having developed it slightly after his staying up with you, Wilbur, and Techno in the dead of the night to sneak out when Philza was asleep. 

“Guess we’re both flightless now, huh?” You ask after a moment, studying his burned feathers that would surely never heal properly enough for him to take flight. He let out a humorless chuckle, dull eyes closing for a moment. 

“I tried to shield him from the explosion but it resulted in quite some irreversible damage.” He stretches his wings out, barely even a quarter of its original length, black feathers singed and unrecognizable. He gives you a glance from the side, “you never told me about yours.” 

You hum, and your back burns with phantom pain. “I lost them in an arena. A couple years after we left, Techno and I participated in this free-for-all arena and some guy ambushed me from behind and cut them off.” Your left hand grips your sleeve, images of red and withering feathers flashing before your eyes. You feel a gentle hand on your back, and all of it stops. 

You and Phil sit together in well-appreciated silence, basking in each other’s presence after so many years of no contact. A shuffle from the other room catches your attention, you turn and see Techno stepping out of the room, one hand supporting himself on the wall and the other wrapped around his midsection, tight against his fresh wound. You and him make eye contact for a split second before you turn away and he redirects his gaze to Phil. 

From the corner of your eyes you see them staring at each other, having what seems to be a silent conversation before the older man sighs and gets up. He pats you on the head once and gives Techno a nod before stepping outside. Uh oh. You know what’s coming next and you don’t know if you’re ready for it. You say nothing when you hear approaching footsteps from behind you, staring at the dwindling flame in the fireplace. You say nothing when he sits behind you on the couch, unable to sit on the floor because of his injuries. You say nothing when you turn around from your sitting position on the floor to look up at him. 

Despite only being apart for 6 months, Techno sure looks older. Maybe it had been the effects of war, but both you and him have gone through countless battles before and you had never seen his face like this. Grim, serious, unapproachable. Something in his eyes flicker when he stares at you; pity, remorse. 

“I’m sorry.” Techno says after a moment, looking guilty as his facade slowly breaks. 

You don’t know what to say. The Blood God, infamous for his unyielding wrath and immeasurable power, for his countless victories in war, for his presence made to induce fear upon people, bowing his head to you in remorse. Was this the same Blood God that you hear countless stories of? No, this is Techno. Your best friend, your partner in crime, your person. 

“I know.” 

#techno x reader #mcyt x reader #mcyt fanfiction #c!techno #dream smp techno #sbi family dynamic #sleepy bois x reader #sbi x reader #technoblade

[angelkurenai]

Wish upon - Bucky Barnes x Reader

Title: Wish upon

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: None

Summary: You were close when Wanda’s grief took over and she inevitably started controling an entire town, including you. Being her closest friend, though, instead of simply playing along, you were given a normal life of your own, with a daughter and husband whom you knew very well but never thought you had feelings for. Months later as you try to figure out your emotions for Bucky, the man seems to be trying to find every reason to stay close to you. Including asking you to join him when he’s ready to follow Sam in his adventures.

“Is that... Is that what I think it is?” you blinked several times, head tilted as you took in the object your husband was, full of pride you could clearly tell, holding and showing off to you.

“You bet it is. Polished, glittered or bedazzled, I can never tell the difference it's equally sparkly anyway, but above all ready to deliver justice. It's finally finished. Right on time at that.” he set the small pink and sparkly shield on the kitchen counter, right next to the baby bottle you'd just filled, because he knew just as well as you did that it was honestly the only way you'd keep looking at the toy and hoped that you'd like it. Which you did, sure, but not in the way Bucky hoped. “Well, what do you say about it?”

“I say that it would certainly deliver justice, no doubt by dazzling the bad guys first and foremost. Besides-” you tore your eyes away from the toy to narrow them at your husband “Just on time for what?”

“Halloween, of course.” he shrugged casually as he slowly made to reach for a piece of the potatoes you'd cooked to have on the side for dinner, but you noticed him and slapped his hand away, earning a not-so-innocent smile in return “I mean... What else is there else to talk about, of significance, in a small town like Westview besides holidays and who the new otherworldly couples in town are. The second having little to no point when one's wife can read minds, amongst so many other things, and said one is a metal-armed 106-year-old.” he sighed, raising his metal arm which he usually kept covered when outside “Honestly, I don't know who're gonna get called out on it first. Wanda and Vision or us.”

“We're handling it great. Besides, oh well a 15 year old gap is so overrated anyway. I tell you, 106 is the new 30, don't you worry a second, dear. You don't look a day over that.” you smiled sweetly, leaning in to peck his lips as he grinned.

“Ah yes, coming from the woman who last time we fought you told me that it's time to stop mourning over my buddy Rexi the dinosaur cause they're all gone now.” he said with a raised eyebrow and you shrugged.

“I don't see what you mean, I was still right.” you brushed him off, checking once more the temperature of the milk “Besides, getting off track here? You still haven't explained to me how that lovely and sparkly shield is of any use to us in Halloween?”

“Well, not us, obviously.” he turned to, according to everyone including him, his little princess “Jean of course!” he picked one of her hands and let her tiny fingers wrap around one of his as she let a giggle when he kissed her belly “It's all you've been talking about with Wanda these days. Her boys have their suits already in mind, it wouldn't be right for Jean to not have hers. It's her first Halloween anyway, even if she can't do any proper trick or treat yet.”

“I'm well aware of that, seeing as I've been planning all of ours suits. And no-” you raised a finger when you saw him raise an interested eyebrow “No, I'm not wearing the skirt version of it. Besides, what we're talking about here is Jean and I still fail to see how a shield will be any part of our little Phoenix's suit.”

“Well, because it's Halloween and she's- Well, she's part of this and she'll- The shield is part of the suit, honey. Obviously. I don't see what confuses you so much as to-”

“And I don't see what confuses you so much that you'd make a shield for her, beautiful as it might be, even though it has no place in all of it. Especially after I made it quiet clear on what costume will be.” you pointed out, baby bottle back on the counter as you crossed your arms over your chest “Honestly, I would rather her have a sparkly version of Sam's redwing before incorporating the shield in her phoenix look.”

He let silence fill the room, save for your daughter's adorable baby noises, before he finally spoke in all seriousness “No, no you wouldn't. You hate that thing too... It was the main reason that made me ask the question, like when you realize you've met your soulmate.”

“I-” only half a pause before you nodded “Yeah, you're right. I hate it... although I can't really remember how it looks like sometimes to be honest. Huh weird.” you let out a breathless laugh, frowning nonetheless.

“Oh how I'd wish for that sort of blessing.” he huffed “Including its owner.”

“Hush you love him!” you hit his shoulder “And, well, that's still all besides the point. Because Jean is not going to have a redwing or shield to her phoenix look in any sort of way. Maybe next Halloween if you wanna choose the costume, fine by me. But this year I am following through with my plans and not changing my mind.”

“Plans of what? Her being a phoenix bird? I get it, it's all magical and what not but-”

“Not just any phoenix bird, geez weez, do you not even listen when I speak, Mr Barnes?” you shook your head with a roll of your eyes.

“Well, sometimes it gets impossibly hard when you look as stunning as today, Mrs Barnes. Sadly all words fade away and as I am captured by your beauty all I can seem to hear is kiss me. How can I not comply?” he said so innocently and with such an adorable smile you couldn't help your fond one in return.

Seeing such adoration and love written all over your face had your heart on overdrive again, as if it was the first time you realized you were in love with him again. It was incredible how you could barely remember that moment whenever you thought about it, however you didn't care. You couldn't find yourself to care when looking at him had your chest fill with warmth, a pleasant buzz all over your body and no weight dragging you down. He made things more simple, having his love and having him by his side made life have meaning and your future full of hope. It hadn't been easy, that much in a way you could remember, but you knew it was worth it because he was worth it. You wanted to give him all your love, wishing that it could live up to the one in his eyes for you in return, so that he could understand what you did from the first moment you met him: he deserved it.

And even if- you couldn't explain why you thought so, but even if there were ever people that would willingly leave him behind, even if you'd never understand that, you were ready to show to him that you could and would be with him till the end of the line. This love you had in you for him had sealed the deal long before you even knew about it.

If anything, you were more than willing to live in this small town, heavens in these four walls of your house, so long as you had him by your side and were able to give him all the love you didn't know you had for him.

You shook your head lightly and gave him “Sweet talking me will get you nowhere, darling. Or rather-” you paused, smirking at him “It might get you in one place. The bedroom.” you grinned when you saw his eyebrows raise in interest “To get Jean's suit. Cause I remember I have some adjustments to make.”

“Bet you do.” he huffed like a little child “Cause she'll be a bird and not a superhero who-”

“Not just a phoenix bird, Buck. The phoenix, that's different.” you pointed out, making him frown.

“How is that different? And what... is the phoenix?”

“Well, it's-” you started but paused abruptly, frowning at your own thoughts “It's actually-” you blinked several time and let out a nervous laugh “Funny thing, I... can't remember. Wow that's... it happens all the more often lately.”

“Can't be important then, right?” he brushed it off casually even though you kept frowning in deep thought which for some reason didn't lead anywhere “Certainly no more than Jean's suit that it... And how we could incorporate a shiel-”

“No.” you cut him off before he could get to complete his sentence “Not gonna happen. I've already got everything planned, you're not going to ruin my plans.”

“Is this how it's gonna go every Halloween now? Us fighting over what Jean's costume will be until she's old enough to choose herself?”

“Oh dear, of course not. It's not fighting when you don't stand a chance against me in the first place.” you shrugged innocently and he tried to look stern by narrowing his eyes at you but you smiled and pecked his lips before speaking “I mean, you could never say no to these pretty eyes, could you?” you batted your eyes at him and he very fast, much faster than last time, sighed in defeat and nodded his head “Besides, you don't have to worry. Next Halloween we'll make her a costume that incorporates the shield too, happy?”

“Always.” he breathed out with such ease that it took a few seconds for you to not openly stare at just how much relaxed he looked, how he truly meant it and how shockingly different he looked while admitting it compared to only a few months ago... months, you weren't sure of the time anymore but truth was that you didn't care, because if there was one thing you could remember was that he had not always been like this and to have him truly happy made everything worth it.

“However-” he cleared his throat, as if noticing how you'd zoned out “That doesn't really solve the problem. Having to compromise, you know. Why should any of us have to? However, if we were to have more than one option...” he trailed off, leaning in closer without any regard for your personal space, not that he needed to, as you narrowed your eyes suspiciously at him “Say... if we were to have more than one options then things wouldn't be this hard, right? Just... to make it easier on ourselves?”

“Make it easier... how exactly?”

His hands found your hips, earning a small giggle from you as he pecked your neck once, twice and three times before he kissed your cheek and the temple, whispering in the end “Let's make more.” it earned a squeal from your as your eyes widened but he grinned even more widely “Come on, think about it. A little boy or maybe another baby girl, Jean would make a great sister. And we wouldn't have to argue about the Halloween costumes. Besides... would be a fun process either way.”

“You have to be kidding me.” you gave him a serious expression but his hopeful smile- no, scratch that. His smile that was bordering that of an idiot, if not lovesick one (but you were on the same boat on that), didn't fade in the least bit “Oh you have to- Alright, Mr Barnes, how about you learn how to feed your daughter without making a mess first and then you can come and talk to me about a second or third one hm? Cause, good as you might be at changing diapers, it ain't just that.”

“She just makes a mess because she enjoys to laugh at my expense, just like you and Sam.” he pointed out and you fought back a smile “And- Hold up a second... did you just say third? You think you're gonna let me ask for a third one too?”

Your eyes widened when you realized that he was really considering the prospect before your lips parted, you being ready to retort-

Only for no words to be uttered after that from your lips. The only sound being a deep intake of air as you were startled awake. Soon followed by a groan as you took in your surroundings and realized you were sadly still in your room. Sadly? Really? You didn't know if that was the case but even if it was, you didn't want to think even more about it. You buried your face in your pillow, not ready to face the day yet because... who were you even kidding? You wanted to go back to it. If not that fake reality, if not the playhouse that Wanda had built out of her grief and had dragged you into it as well - and maybe you hated yourself for how part of you did want that - then at least your dream would be nice.

It's been months and yet it feels as if it's been just yesterday that you were all released from her control. How could you not feel that way after all? When you were awake, the fake reality you'd thought your life was constantly on your mind, and when you were asleep even if you were not thinking of it, you were dreaming about it. It was constantly on your mind. And as if the experience itself, mind-control and all, hadn't left you with a few mental scares to add to your already existing ones to take care of, then the realization of the truth that lay within your own heart, was more than enough to keep the events replaying on your mind day and night.

To put matters simply: when you had followed your best friend, Wanda, after seeing her so distraught, leaving SWORD, you had never thought you'd find yourself playing house with a fake copy of one and only James Bucky Barnes thanks to said best friend. But while there was a chance for that, you never thought there was a chance that you'd realize you had feelings for the man all along.

Your life had been different there. Maybe because you were always close with the other Avenger, who knew. While there were times where you'd experience Wanda's grief, her nightmares from time to time came to haunt you at night just like it did with the rest of the town, your life was mostly... good. No, forget that, your life was nearly perfect. You had everything you wished for and things you didn't even know you had wished for. Maybe deep down you had always wanted it, a normal life, peace and calm, a kid whether it was yours or not... Bucky. You had probably always wanted him but didn't know it yourself, no doubt you were too busy crushing over Steve.

If only your current self could see your past self, or at least self of barely a year ago, you'd have smacked some sense into your stupid self who thought Steve Rogers was the only man you could ever have eyes for. While you had come to be very close with the Captain and ended up doing almost everything together, everyone thought there was much more to the two of you, that it hadn't even occurred to you to think that Steve wasn't really the one you wanted. Maybe you had convinced yourself so, in a way that now that he was no longer there you were more shaken by the fact that you were not shaken by how he had decided to live his life with Peggy in the past than his absence itself.

You had not felt any sort of betrayal, nor that you were suddenly all alone, certainly not as if anything was missing from your life. Granted, you had plenty to think about most of the time, day and night, but that didn't change things. You wished Steve had had a happy ending and you would on the occasion miss him the way you'd miss... a brother. You were always calm, no worries or fears, content with the fact that you knew he had been happy even if it was away from you because, in a way, you wanted it to be that way, it was natural. However, the mere thought of someone else leaving, someone that you thought far too often about, made your heart leap to your throat and your stomach tie in knots. The mere thought that Bucky could leave the way Steve had done made your throat close in a painful way and your eyes burn with tears, making you realize just who mattered the most.

If, again, Wanda plucking the truth about your feelings for the man to give you a life with him wasn't proof enough.

Your phone buzzing made you jump once more, eyes landing on the device on the nightstand. Reaching for it you were not surprised to see the messages that were pilled in your inbox. All from the same specific someone. A specific someone you had found yourself speaking with all the more often lately. Each time successfully managing to make you smile in one way or another, without fail.

Good morning. :)

Did I use that one correctly? I keep forgetting them, no matter how many times you show me.

And show him you had, just like that there was an option for him to choose from different ones instead of having to type them, but that was still work in progress. So even if Bucky learning emojis was a memory that you'd cherish forever, it wasn't the only important one at the moment.

On second thought, it's a bit too early.

You're probably still asleep. Nevermind. Sorry for bothering you.

And then more, shortly afterwards.

I only wanted to know if you're alright, that's all.

Anyway, hope I didn't wake you up.

He, much like everyone else, thought it was hard on you to deal with Steve being gone so he did his best to keep in touch and being as selfish as you were, you didn't bring yourself to tell him the truth that you cared more to know about how he was and wanted the contact for that. Maybe he was also worried about you after Wanda's mind-control too. But if Sam's words were anything to go by, then it was all an excuse for Bucky to stay close with you. You didn't let your hopes get up for that reason though. You could gladly take whatever you got without wondering.

Again it was followed not much later by another message.

I've actually got something to talk to you about. Something happened, though you could already know if you saw the news. Can I come over to talk with you? I need your opinion on the matter.

And shortly afterwards came.

I've already got your favorite breakfast. To make up for, probably, waking you up. :)

The next one had taken longer, he had probably been waiting for an answer all that time. You couldn't help but feel bad about it. That and the fact that the reason behind you not replying earlier was because of how immensed you were in your fantasy life with him that you had not told him a thing about.

(Y/n)... are you sure you're alright? It's getting late even for you.

Truth was you had more trouble waking up after having a dream of that time. But you couldn't tell him that. And then there was the latest one.

Alright, I'm coming over. I really hope you're not dead in there. I'm not going to let you hear the end of it if you are. Oh dear, I sound like Sam right now. Forget I ever said that. Both of it.

Before you even had the time to think about what he could mean, because no you had really not seen the news yet, let alone type back a reply, the door to your bedroom burst open. It earned a squeal from you as you looked with wide eyes at Bucky standing on the doorway. You weren't even surprised how you hadn't heard him, not when he already had keys to your apartment and could easily sneak up on you. Not that him surprising you was what you cared about at the moment. It was, and you could only admit it to yourself, more important how you looked at the moment – and having just woken up you weren't sure just how attractive you looked – than anything else. Especially when Bucky looked better than ever with that new haircut that you were sure he'd gotten on purpose, just to test how much your heart could take.

“I thought doors existed back in your days, Barnes. Maybe knocking was an option too.”

You saw him let out a sigh of relief, shoulders relaxing “What would have been the point if you were dead? You wouldn't have replied anyway.”

“Bold of you to assume I would miss on another chance to lecture you about the proper use of emojis, Mr Barnes. Even death could not stop me.” you broke into a grin and he chuckled.

“What, did I really mess it up?” he asked with a small, far too adorable for your own good, frown.

“Oh no you got it just right.” you said softly, adoring the proud look on his face before you added “However, I've told you, you don't have to type them anymore. There is an option on your keyboard with that kind of stuff for you to-”

“Eh alright, alright I get it. I suck at it. I'm not even gonna try using them anymore.”

“Wha- No!” you whined softly “No, Buck, I didn't mean that. Come on, you're good. You just... have a lot to learn still.” you shrugged “That's all. We didn't do great at first either. Nobody really got emojis a first, but you'll get the hang of it.”

“But you still think I am a grandpa when it comes to technology. And my age doesn't help on that case either.” he shrugged, as if he meant it casually as a joke but you could see a small hint of self-consciousness there as well.

“Nonsense.” you said softly, finally throwing the blankets off you “You're far from a grandpa, Buck. In fact, I strongly believe that 106 is the new 30, and you don't look a day over that.” the words were out of your lips before you could even think about it and when you realized what you'd said, your smile flattered a bit. You were glad his back was turned to on that second that he didn't notice. You cleared your throat, sobering up “Besides, new things are not everyone's cup of tea anyway.”

“Uh yeah...” you notice the relaxed, and almost happy, look fade away from his face as his eyebrows pulled back into a frown. He looked down for a second, leaning against the doorframe with his hands in his pockets “Things do change. Sometimes faster than we can adapt to the new world around us.”

“Alright, unless you're channeling Charles Darwin right now, which I don't think you are, care to explain to me what's wrong? Because... I am guessing something is, judging by your expression.” you got up and approached “Is this... about the shield? I- I don't know if Sam giving it up is that much of a good choice however... he must have his reasons, right?”

“Well, yes, but- this is not just about that.” he sighed, finally looking up to meet your eyes “Something happened and I've been thinking about it, I wanted your opinion on it. You know it matters to me.”

“...And? There is more to that, come on. Tell me.” you knew him too well and you hadn't even realized when that happened too “You know you can... Always.”

“I do.” he paused for a moment, holding your gaze before he let a soft sigh “It's just, I am going to go find Sam and... I want you to come with me. If you're up for it, I would like you to be there with me... maybe?”

“You know... I should punch you just for doubting whether I'd follow you or not. But just because it won't lead anywhere for me-” you smirked at him “Buy me dinner too and consider yourself excused and me up for any challenge. Strongest Avenger at your disposal, Mr Barnes.” you patted his shoulder, enjoying the deep chuckle that came from him. Even if his next words made the air get caught in your throat.

“It's a date then.”

#marvel #bucky #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky imagine #bucky barnes imagine #bucky fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky one shot #bucky barnes one shot #the winter soldier #the winter soldier x reader #the winter soldier imagine #the winter soldier fanfiction #the winter soldier one shot #tfatws #avengers #the avengers #imagine #x reader #fanfiction #one shot #sebastian stan #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan imagine #sebastian stan one shot #sebastian stan fanfiction

[loveyhoneydovey]

SFW Alphabet with Joaquín Torres

Note: I've been dying to write something like this so I decided to do it with my baby first. Might do Sam next

All my stories are written with a bisexual reader of colour in mind, but anyone else is more than welcome to read them

Joaquín Torres x GN!Reader

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

He’s a very affectionate partner and especially shows his love through physical affection and acts of service. He wants to feel useful and do his best to make life easier and more enjoyable for you.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

He’d be the type of best friend that’s not physically there often, due to the nature of his job. However, when you do get a chance to spend it feels like he’s never been gone. He completely focuses on you, asks for updates about your life and checks if you need anything. He’s so chill and he’s got the type of personality that has you at ease. You first met him at a mutual friend’s wedding, you both got a bit tipsy and decided to hang out with each other and that was the start of a beautiful friendship

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

YES!!! As I previously mentioned, he loves physical touch and cuddling is one of his favourite ways of showing affection. He loves being the small spoon and he’s not ashamed to say it. He says it’s because you make him feel safe and makes him feel like he has a home to go back to after all the shit he sees

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

He wants to settle down for sure, eventually. Before meeting you, he thought that would come later, but you definitely made him rethink. I don’t think he’s the best cook, but I think he has a few of recipes of food his mom made him when he was younger. Those are the ones he learned to perfect. As for cleaning, because of how strict his life is at the army, I think he allows himself to be a bit messy at home. Definitely messy and not dirty. You both try to split house chores evenly.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

I think he’d be honest and would do it in person. Ending a relationship that played such an important part in his life is definitely heartbreaking, but he thinks he owes it to himself and to you to put an end to it before it gets worse. He’d rather end things on semi good terms than letting it sour and go nowhere.

F = Fiancé(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

He always told himself, when it came to relationships, he’d go with the flow and see how he felt about long-term commitment. He’s a m*ilitary boy, so I think he kinda (unintentionally) follows the stereotype and proposes quickly. Although in his case he does it because he’s truly in love with you and doesn’t want to wait longer than he has to make you his. He’d propose after about a year and a half I’d say.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

Have you seen him? He’s the gentlest sweetest baby in every way. I think the fact that he sees so much violence and horror during his deployment pushes him to be more gentle in other aspects of his life. More specifically with you and his family. He wants you to feel like you can come to him for anything whether it’s when you’re feeling down or when you’ve cut your finger on a piece of glass. Either way he’ll treat you with kindness, but not like you’re breakable.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

omg he LOVES hugs. Again, due to the nature of his job, he doesn’t get a lot of physical affection, which drives him crazy. So when he’s home, you can expect him to attack you with hugs all day long. Doesn’t matter if you’re washing the dishes or brushing your teeth. He’ll come up from behind and wrap his arms around your waist, while putting his chin on your shoulder. If you’re facing him, he’s going to engulf you and wrap his arms around you. His hugs are warm and comforting and make you feel safe.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

oh real quick, but actually so do you. I actually headcanon that you two say it at the same time by accident. You both were probably nervous because it was after like two months, but end up laughing it off cause you were so in sync.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

He understands the root of jealousy is mostly insecurity, so he doesn’t get jealous often, because he’s secure in his relationship with you and is actually pretty confident with himself. Of course, it happens occasionally, he’s only human. However, you both always thought that feeling jealous sometimes wasn’t bad, but what could lead to issues was the way one could act on it. So, whenever he feels jealous he takes a moment to collect his thoughts if he needs to, then you’d both talk about it.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

His kisses are often playful and sweet. He doesn’t like to take himself too seriously and neither do you, so you keep things light and playful, but that doesn’t mean it’s not passionate. On the contrary, you feel his love for you with every kiss he leaves on you skin. His favourite place to kiss you is on the nose, because of the way you scrunch it and giggle after he kisses it. As for where he liked to be kissed, soon after you started dating, you found out he loved being shirtless which allowed you to notice he had a beauty mark on the upper part of his right shoulder. From that moment, you developed a habit of kissing it and it made him melt, so it became his favourite place to be kissed.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

Oh the BEST. For some reason he attracts them. You told him it was probably because he was a child himself and he flipped you off. You actually think it’s because he’s so cheerful and happy, and he treats them like they’re his friends. You’ve caught him having full on conversations with your friends’ babies who couldn’t even speak yet. And once you had kids, he did the same thing with them.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

Whenever possible, you have lazy mornings where you alternate between sleeping, having lazy morning sex and snacking. If it’s a regular morning, he usually has to leave before you, and every time you’d try to distract him and make him stay a bit longer. He’s so used to your “five more minutes, please” that he started waking up five minutes earlier.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

This man has a whole skincare routine before going to sleep. If you also do, then you both complete your routines side by side in front of the bathroom mirror. He might read a bit before bed (and you try to sneakily take a pic of him in his glasses cause you think he looks so cute), or you’d both talk about your day and maybe cuddle a bit before turning off your lamps and getting some sleep.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

He’d open up slowly, there was no pressure between the two of you and he took his time to share the more difficult parts of his life. Now if you open up to him about something defining or traumatic that happened in your life, he might open up faster to let you know you’re not alone, but also to reciprocate the trust you put in him.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

He’s pretty patient most of the time and tries to not let himself get angry over little things, however he’s still human. So depending on the gravity of the situation, he might get angered quickly if he sees something upsetting happening, however, he’s very careful with the way he reacts. He knows something done in anger can lead to regret and guilt, so he thinks before he acts and speaks.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

I think he’d remember an important date like your birthday, he knows around what time your anniversary is, but I feel like he would forget which date it is exactly. He’d remember the most random facts about you, like the kind of stuff where you think he was paying attention, but he was listening subconsciously.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

Cliché, but it was during your honeymoon. It was the first time you had referred to him as your husband and it made his heart swell with pride. The love you held for him was so obvious when you looked at him.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

He’s protective when he needs to be. He’s not overbearing and trusts that you’re capable of taking care of yourself most of the time. He will step in if he feels like a situation is escalating (let’s say if you’re getting physically or verbally harassed) and he will put himself physically between you and whoever’s trying to harm you.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

Omg listen this baby puts so much effort into making your dates enjoyable. He plans out full picnics with cute cakes and charcuterie boards and that doesn’t stop as your relationship progresses. Any gifts he gives you usually have a meaning behind them, and he doesn’t always buy them, sometimes he makes them himself. As I said, he is a bit messy in his daily life, but you two actually have a chart with who’s supposed to do what and that’s how you share your chores, and he does mostly follow it.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

He has a habit of leaving some important stuff until the last minute. It works out in the end, but it causes him an unnecessary amount of stress.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

… have you seen the amount shirtless selfies Danny takes? I think Torres is the exact same. So, he does like to take care of his looks, especially when he sees the effect it has on you. And he has to stay in shape either way, due to his job

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

I think he’d be heartbroken and might feel incomplete for the first few months, but as time goes one, he begins to feel whole again and learns to feel self sufficient.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

He wants to learn another language fluently someday. He wants to help people and he thinks there’s no better way than being able to understand their needs in their native language to be able to help

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

I think he doesn’t like the smell of cigarettes or smoke. He doesn’t mind if his partner’s a smoker, but he probably wouldn’t be around them while they’re smoking.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habit of theirs?)

This boy sleeps in the weirdest, funniest positions. Like you’d go to sleep in a normal position side by side, or with your back to him, then when you’d wake up you’d find him in a new position every time.

#joaquin torres x reader #joaquin torres imagine #joaquin torres #tfatws imagine #tfatws

[tsuumu]

hii! i really like your blog so far, you’re writing is really good! this idea just popped up in my head so idk if it’ll actually make sense but i’ll try lmao. so could you write some headcanons of sugawara, tendou, and kuroo w/ a shy s/o who gets jealous of some girls that come up to them, and she tries to tell them that shes jealous, and how they would react to that? thank you so much, and i’m sorry if this doesn’t make sense lmaoo :)

kuroo, tendou and sugawara with a jealous s/o.

good evening anon! this req is written in a school setting with various s/o personalities. i really hope you like it. <3

(the kuroo section is CONSIDERABLY longer than the other two and i apologise for that!! D: )

• nekoma’s volleyball team had become quite popular after the nationals tournament, where they had fought tirelessly and with extreme talent for everybody to see. people knew of the members and especially of their handsome captain. kuroo was prideful of his position and liked to flaunt his team’s successes to those who were interested, unknowing that they were probably more interested in him.

• he’s been talked about a lot lately. your friends always want updates on your ‘volleyball prince’, to which you promptly swat them away. he’s not a famous person. he’s just a high-school boy. a really cute, out-going, intelligent high-school boy.

• kuroo spends his free time in classes with girls on, around and at his desk, happily answering all the questions they gave him.

• unfortunately, you’re not so pleased. since tetsu had chemistry exam prep, his class has moved just a few doors down from yours. usually you wouldn’t get to see him during class because the lab work was done on the other side of the school, however he cheerily mentioned the change to you this morning whilst you were walking together.

• it happens as you’re on your way to your next room, stopping abruptly at the thought of the walk and peering in to see what was going on. after a short few seconds of scanning, you catch sight your boyfriend’s signature, dark hair. he’s chattering away to his female classmates.

• you really can’t help but feel a slight pang in your chest.

• you’ve never been overly protective or possessive of kuroo, at least, there had never been circumstances that lead you to feeling that way. you just stand there momentarily, staring at the varying expressions of the girls. tetsu is so oblivious. they’re totally hitting on him. you can’t help but sigh out. yes. he’s the talk of the town right now but wouldn’t you stop to ask him if he’s even single? you’re not angry, just a little bitter that you couldn’t sit with him like that and let them know of your existence.

• one of the girls closest to kuroo punches his arm lightly and you focus your attention back on them. you can’t figure out what on earth the actual conversation is about but she keeps placing her hands on his arms when she’s laughing or speaking enthusiastically.

• you’re not a fan of that at all, it makes the jab at your ribs heavier. you decide, ‘fuck it’ and push on the door to open it. it’s entirely on impulse and the nervousness sets in when the classroom quitens and -give or take- twenty eyes are set onto you.

• the second kuroo turns his head, he stands up at once, that shit-eating grin you know and love dearly plastered all over this face. it’s like the conversation with anybody else ended the second he saw you.

“woah. i didn’t know the next teacher was gonna be the love of my life! no, but seriously, what have you done to him, babe?”

you push on his chest lightly and tell him to quit it, cheeks burning at how loud he is, before embracing him tightly and wrapping your arms around him. you feel much safer.

• yaku chucks a piece of balled paper at you two from another area of the classroom.

“hey, you two. i know we signed up for chemistry but not your chemistry!”

• kuroo just throws it back, before kissing you on the forehead. you mumble into the fabric of his button-up that you’re just on your way to your next lesson and you’ll probably be late now. you just wanted to see him and tell those girls you’re uninterested. he chuckles out, moving back slightly to tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear.

“well i’m glad you did. this was the best surprise ever.”

• he leans closer, pressing his lips to your ear in a coy whisper.

“what girls? there’s girls? i thought they only made one in this entire world just for me. if it’s not another you, i’ll pass.” the corners of your mouth tug into a smile, burying your nose more into him.

“hey, kitty. as much as i’d like to keep you in here forever, like a cat that very obviously has another owner, i’ll just have to see you after class. i’ll be right outside your door. okay? now scram.”

• he flicks your forehead and walks with you to your next class. you grumble playfully. on your way, you meet eyes with the girls earlier. they’re shell-shocked, previously unbeknownst of your existence, you give them a small wave before holding his arm tightly and smiling to yourself.

• tendou is the life of the party wherever he goes. everybody seems to know him and it’s not always because of volleyball. he just seems to be friends with everyone. he’s the type to be chatting with teachers, students, the old, the young. he’s a mood setter and everybody loves him.

• you fell for him. hard.

• before dating him, it made you a little agitated that everybody got along with him so well. you never knew if his smooth words and instantaneous charm were factors of all his conversations. you could never approach him, since you’d never been good at displaying romantic intentions through actions. unfortunately, these small thoughts persisted even after he himself approached you and asked you out for coffee after school one day, despite not knowing you at all. even after he kissed you on the step of your door months later. even after he eventually begged you to be his.

• you aren’t too big on publicly displaying your relationship. initiating PDA was never your thing. you weren’t embarrassed of him at all, you just preferred to stay completely professional and education-orientated when in school. he’ll tease you, once even told you you remind him of a female ushijima... before staring at the ground to reflect on his own comment and taking it back vehemently (he doesn’t want to imagine dating his best friend in front of you).

• whenever you ask him if girls talk to him, he hushes you copiously, assuring you that every man and woman that’s entered his life after you as resembled humanoid blobs in purple uniform. he has eyes for only you.

• you’re a little cold, you tend to be when jealousy sets in. like that one day your friend told you that this notoriously pretty second year had approached him, handing him a blank lined sheet and asking for his help with her english work. you found out later that she’d thanked him with fluttering eyelashes and big smiles, before frowning down at the paper.

• he’d ended up practicing his signature over and over on the page because -and you quote- “i suck at english too but this paper was good document-signing practice, so thanks!”

• a relief washes over you. you and tendou are stark opposites, in fact, the only time you ever feel obliged to lose your cool is over him. however, you know he’s loyal. he loves you very much and hopes that you’ll come to trust him with your entire heart one day.

• you vow to work on it, hard.

if sugawara was my s/o i’d just accept that everyone else would probably fall in love with him too

• this boy is made of honey. the first time you laid eyes on him was during first year, noir jacket slung over his shoulder, beautiful, silver hair rustling as he tried to shut the class window as you walked in, you were hooked.

• you felt utterly helpless at how infatuated with him you were. your friends all felt the same way. picture: sighing together and staring whenever he did ANYTHING. he was so sweet to absolutely everybody. nobody could ever bring them selves to defy, ignore or be aggressive with koushi. from the start it felt like you had competition.

• you’re a happy-go-lucky, loud-mouth shithead with an abudance of enthusiasm and energy but this third year makes your knees shake. walking up to him on a summer’s evening to ask him out, you could barely even talk. luckily, he did all the talking for you. your time together has been nothing but loving history.

• sugawara likes to spend his free time with you, often lunches, where he’s adamant on feeding you lots and lots of his own cooking to ensure you’re well-fed.

• imagine your surprise, when you’re walking, hop in your step, over to your usual meeting place and see your boyfriend sitting with another girl, feeding them. your heart practically falls out of your ass. steps slowing, you don’t even try to hide your alarm as you approach him. koushi’s face is to you, smiling and laughing. he catches sight of you and waves happily.

• your expression doesn’t change. you’re confused, hurt, unsure of how to act. should you just pretend like everything is fine? you feel like criticising them but they’re just eating. god, you’re overthinking this.

• “(y/n)! say hi to hinata!”

huh?

the girl turns around.

oh god.

• hinata’s blowing unattractively on strands of hair that are stuck to his face, before leaping up to greet you. he’s wearing a god damn wig.

“ah! (y/n), hi! i took totally weird, don’t i. it’s for this stupid drama class. i seriously thought i’d get to act and do fight scenes and look super cool to girls but instead, they made me dress up as a high-school girl! it’s ‘cause i’m short, they said!”

• you’re not even listening, just wallowing in your shame at how panicked you were.

“—i ran into sugawara and he let me try some lunch, have you eaten?” you shake your head, before grinning and suddenly grabbing the younger boy, trapping him in a playful headlock and making him squirm.

“oi, hinata. you gave me a scare, makin’ me think some doe-eyed lowerclassman was chatting up my boyfriend!”

• he whines and apologises profusely. koushi just sits and laughs, munching on his lunch and watching you give the poor boy hell. he’d never dream of that, he know you’d do worse to him if that were ever the case.

#haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu #sugawara headcanons #sugawara x reader #tendou headcanons #tendou x reader #kuroo headcanons #kuroo x reader #HSDJSOSK THIS WAS FUN TO WRITE #the last one especially #hq

[creepyalienghost]

literature club

Warning: suicide

——

“Henry. Please join. You would love the literature club.” Wally begged his friend Henry, as they walked to their lockers. This year they were next to each other and for the pass month Wally’s been wanting Henry to join their little book club after school.

It wasn’t like Henry didn’t want to hang out with Wally, he did. They have been best friends since they were kids. He just wasn’t sure that was what he wanted to do. He was an artist not a book worm, Art was his thing.

But he didn’t like to see his friends sad and eventually he gave it to Wally’s request. “Alright Wally.” He replied opening his locker and getting his books for the next class, history. “I’ll come check it out today.”

“Yay!” Wally jumped around with happiness and a big smile across his face that Henry loves to see. “Thank you Henry! Meet me outside room 278 after school!”

Henry nodded. “Will do Wally.” He shuts his locker just as the bell rang. “See you then!” He said with a wave as they go there separate classes.

The school day drags on for hours but eventually 3 o’clock finally came and everyone rushed outta there classes, some to get home others to hurry to their clubs or sports. Henry searched for the room Wally told him to go and found it within minutes. Outside Wally was there waiting and when he saw him that big smile came. “Henry toy came!”

He nodded. “Of course! I never back down on my promise.”

“That’s true.” Wally replied. “Come on in! Meet the others! Sammy even brought cake today!”

Henry followed Wally inside the class room and was amazed at how it looked. It was a regular classroom with desk and all but they made it more cozy. They had a soft chair in the back corner for anyone to read on and there was soft yellow fairy lights hung up on the ceiling. Calm low music played from the radio next to the chocolate cake and drinks. A long bookshelf ran under the windows and quotes from different book lined the walls.

“It’s so...relaxing In here.” Henry stated looking around the room.

“Thank you kind stranger” said a tall brown haired boy walking up. “You must be Wally’s friend, Henry. Welcome to the literature club. I’m Joey.”

Henry nodded in response. “I am. And thank you Joey! It actually looks fun! What all do y’all do here?”

Joey prompted himself on a desk before answering. “We read books of all kind. Horror, poetry, the classics. He decide on something and read that.” He paused for a minute before continuing. “We also right short stories and poems.”

Henry nodded while listening. “That sounds fun but I don’t think I can write poems.” He chuckled.

“Nonsense.” Joey chuckled with him, waving his head away. “It’s easy! If you join I’ll teach you how to write poetry.”

“Really?” Henry ask, feeling a bit excited to learn something new.

“Of course!” Joey nodded. “My mother taught me when I was young. Now I’m teaching these boys.” Joey gestures to the other boys.

Henry accepted his offer. “Yeah. Alright. I’ll join!”

Joey smiled in excitement. “That’s great! We should celebrate! Good thing Sammy brought cake!” He announced. “Come. Meet the other two!” He wrapped his arm around Henry leading him to the table where the others were heading.

Henry sat down next to Wally as Joey handed out pieces of cake and drinks. That hour he got to know the the three more better. Joey was the leader and starter of the club. He love to read the classic books like, to kill Mockingjay, and enjoyed writing about love. Jack was quite opposite from him. He loved reading manga and climes that it is literature. His favorite being the promised Neverland. The last boy, Sammy was the shortest out of all of them. His thing was dark and creepy literature. Anything Edgar Allan Poe he loved. Henry also found out Wally’s favorite books were funny books. Anything that would make you laugh in tears he would read and Henry found that suited his friend.

——

After school the next day Henry headed in the club a bit early. Sammy and Joey were already there and were talking before he came in. “Hello Henry!” Joey called out when he saw Henry, heading to him. Sammy smiled and waved before going to his book.

“Hello Joey! Hey Sammy!” He replied happily.

Joey sits upon the near by desk, facing Henry. “You ready for today’s activity? I thought it would be fun for the group!”

Henry nodded. “I am! I can’t wait to hear what it is!” He said just as the other two arrived.

Joey chuckled in response. “In do time Henry! Until then you can hang out with whoever for a bit. Hell these two just joined us! Welcome boys” he left Henry, going over to Wally and jack to greet.

Henry glances back at Sammy and noticed he had been watching them and he quickly turned back to his book once He looked at him. Henry thought he must be a bit shy for Conversation so he turned to Wally and jack. Wally was hanging out with Joey and jack was reading a comic book. He went over and sat next to jack. “Hey. What comic you ready?”

Jack shook his head. “It’s not a comic book, it’s manga!” He informed Henry. “Have you ever read one?”

“I haven’t.” Henry shook his head. “What is a manga?”

“You don’t know?” He chuckled. “Ah Henry you have lots to learn!” He added before tapping the chair next to him. “come. sit. I’ll teach you.”

Henry sat next to jack as he began talking about all he knew on manga. Henry didn’t interrupt he sat there listening to everything this excited boy to say. He was learning quite a lot about it as time went on. Like where it came from and what was the latest issues of the popular manga. Henry noted some titles he should pick up so they both could read them together.

Time quickly flew by and the hour was almost at a closed. Joey dedicated the last quarter for reading the poems so he left Wally to stand at front. “Alright boys. It’s time to share our poems.” He announced before turning to the newest member. “Henry you can sit this one out and listen to the others today.” Henry nodded in response giving the ok for Joey to continue. “Alrighty. Who wants to read theirs today?”

“I will!” Called out Sammy standing up and grabbing his poem then heading up to the front as Joey sat back down. He held up the poem and cleared his throat. “My poem is called hands”

The hands around, allow me to see

Show me things only they want me to see

The hands around, allow to speak

Using my voice as theres

The hands around, hold me in place

Guide me to one place to another

The hands around, pull the strings

And I can not escape

“Vary good Sammy!” Joey said while the others boys snapped their fingers. Sammy Smiled and headed back to his seat. “Is there anyone else that wants to read there’s?” Joey ask and waited. There was no takers today for anymore reading. “Alrighty boys. I hope to hear from y’all tomorrow. Club Dismiss.”

As Henry grabbed his bag Joey came over. “Hey Henry. Do you wanna go to the bookstore? I can recommend you some easy poetry books?”

“Sure!” Henry smiled with a nod. “That would be cool. Thanks!” He and Joey walked out of the room heading for the book store. Sammy and jack looked at wally before he signed and left on his on.

——-

During brakes in classes he read a few pages of his new poetry book. Joey had helped him pick out one for beginners which has a little of all kinds of topics to figure out what was your style. Love, light, happiness sadness, funny, horror and dark. Henry seemed to be most interested in the poems about happiness and love. He was excited to talk about poetry with Joey, Wally and the boys in the club as well as read his poem today.

When he arrived in the room after school Joey was the only one there at the point, getting the club sit up, Cleaning and fixing the desk back. “Hey Henry!” He greeted as Henry came in. “How’s the book?”

Henry waved at him as he walked up. “Hi Joey! And the book is lovely!” He smiled as he helped him with the table. “I quite enjoy happy rain and pink so fair. There really fun to read!”

Joey chuckled. “That’s great! I’m glad you found you style Henry!” He replied as he started sanitizing the food table.

“Thanks man. I wouldn’t have if it won’t for you Henry.” Henry praised Joey.

Joey smiled with pride. “Aww thank

You Henry.” He replied.

Henry nodded at Joey Just as the rest of the boys joined them. “Hey! There they are!” Joey announced happily . “Hia boys!”

After everyone greeted each other and got settled down with there books, Henry decided to read with Sammy today. He spotted him setting in the comfy chair next to the window. It was storming outside and judging by his book title, it was the right kind of weather for it. Henry pulled up a chair from the desk near by and sat next to him. “Hi Sammy. Hope you don’t mind if I read with you today.”

Sammy looked up from his book and shook his hand. “N-no. Not at all.” A small kind smile spread across his face. “I’m not sure if you’d like my kind of reading through. It’s dark poetry.”

“Oh really?” Henry replied. “That’s alright. I might enjoy it.” He said giving a smile back.

“Well. Alright.” The boy nodded and opened his book up to the first page to a poem called darkness. While Henry scooted his chair closer.

The two of them sat beside one another and silently reading each page as the storm raged outside. There was a lot of emotional and death related poems as well as depression and anxiety. Henry had question himself if he needed help but didn’t wanna asked. Besides the boy seemed happy every time he seen him so maybe it was just interesting to Sammy.

However when Sammy turn the page after reading a while his sleeve slipped down revealing a deep burn, making Henry worried. “Are you alright Sammy?” He ask looking up at him. “What happened?!”

“Uh. Y-yea...” Sammy calmly rolled his sleeve back up while nodded. “It j-just a cooking accident last night. Don’t worry..” he replied with a slight chuckle.

Henry nodded believe him. After all cooking does lead to accident. “Alright. But you might need to bandage that later.” He smiled.

“Thanks. Will do.” Sammy nodded. They both went back to reading the poetry book, Sammy only glancing up once to find Joey staring at him form across the room for a moment before returning to his book. Sammy didn’t dare to look again for the night.

Soon the last quarter of the club arrives and the boys made there way to the front role desks. “Alright boys. Today I want Henry to come forward and share his poem.” Joey replied. “Don’t be shy Henry, we all had our first time.”

Henry came up to the front with his poem ready to share. He’s been waiting for hours for this and now it was his time to shine. He held up his poem and reads it.

I look out in the night

To see a bright shining star above.

I wish upon that star

Things I wish to become.

That star with guide me to

places that I wanna be.

And one day I’ll find that

The whole time the star has been me.

The boys have a round of applause for Henry’s first poem as tradition in the club. Henry smiled confidently as he walked over to Joey. “I’m impress Henry! Vary excellent, for the first time!” Joey commented. “Soon you’d became a natural!”

“Thanks Joey. You are a good teacher.” Henry beamed.

Joey blushed. “Aww thanks Henry.” He chuckled. “Alright guys. Club meeting over. See you tomorrow!” He announced to the others

Wally gathered his two books and bag from the desk in the back then headed to his friend. “Hey Henry. Do you want to head over to the arcade?”

Henry frowns as his friend. “Sorry Wally. I would but I already made plans with Joey for tonight. We can tomorrow though!” He replied.

Wally nodded with a wide smile on his face. “Of course! That sounds awesome!”

“Cool” Henry nodded. “See you tomorrow”

Wally frowns watching his friend leave with that monster he know trusts, as jack and Sammy came up to him. He looked over at them and sadly sighed. Jack gives Wally a hug. None off the boys said anything. They didn’t have to. They knew each other’s pain. They knew there plan wasn’t working. Henry wasn’t noticing the signs even when Sammy purposely showed a big one. Eventually the three left the classroom and went to there homes for the night alone.

——-

Last night had been fun! Joey had taken Henry to poetry slam. Together they watched as people came and read there poems in front of an audience. Some good, some bad. Some short, some long. Some about happy times, others about horror. Henry was enjoying his time with Joey and the boys. He was actually really happy that Wally begged him to join. It turned out great and he couldn’t wait to tell talk to him.

However when Henry walked though the door the vibe was a bit different. Sammy, jack and Wally were in the back of the room talking quietly to each other about something Henry didn’t know. When they all

Saw Henry standing there they all welcome home. “Hello Henry!” Wally was the first. He jumped off the desk with a big smile, walking over and given a hug.

Henry, feeling better then a second ago, hugged back. “Hey Wally! Sorry I couldn’t hang out last night. We will tonight though.”

Wally nodded eagerly. “Great! I can’t wait. We could go to the movies to see one of the new ones showing! Or we could go to the park! Or the arcade?” He listed off things to do, happily

Henry chuckled and nodded. “Ya! We can! You can choose where we go!”

Wally nodded as Joey came in. Everyone then gathered there books there on and choose a comfy spot to read at today. Henry decided to buddy read with Wally today. Another chance to be with his best friend. Wally was on the the couch and reading a book that looks like it was funny. “Can I read with you today?”

Wally looked up and nodded. “Of course you can!” He replied and scooted over for Henry to sit then patted the space. “Come sit.”

Henry did indeed sit down beside him, getting comfortable. After he was settled he looked at his friend and asked. “So what’s the book about?”

“It’s about this guys Journey in a wacky world. There’s all certs of funny things about the world and it’s people.” Wally answered him. “It’s one of my favorite books.”

Henry nodded. “That wonderful to hear. What page your own?

“Oh I’m on page 208 but we can start from the beginning.” Wally smiled and opened the book to the first page. Wally read quietly out loud as Henry followed along. He found himself enjoying the characters the best as they read together. His favorite became a purple man who helped the main character in his Journey.

As always Joey was on time with the last quarter of the club. He got to the front and ask for volunteers. This time jack wanted to read his. Jack got his notebook and flipped to the latest poem he had written. “Alright. This ones called The field.”

In my dreams I see a field.

One so beautiful. One so elegant.

It’s golden sunlight like rays spread across

No darkness can be found.

In my dreams I see a field

Surrounded by friends

Happy as ever

No sadness can be felt.

In my dreams I see a field

Laugher is the only thing to hear

Peace all around

No cries can be herd.

Jack finishes and bows as the others snapped their fingers. He went back to his sit as Joey took his place up front. “Nice job jack! Your getting better!” He replied before turning his attention to the rest. “Alright before we go I have an announcement.” He waited for a moment before continuing. “As you all know the festival is this weekend. I think we should give it a shoot and try to bring more people to our club for once, like the others.”

“Oh! That would be fun!” Wally agreed. “I second that!” Sammy jack and Henry agreed as well.

“Alright guys. I can make the pamphlet but I’m no good with designing them. Wally want to help me?”

“Sure!” Wally nodded happily. “We can start it tonight after hanging out with Henry.”

Joey nodded. “ perfect.” Joey looked at jack and Sammy. “I think we should have a banner as well as treats for the other students.”

“I’ll make the treats!” Sammy suggest.

Jack nodded. “I’ll take care of the banner.”

Joey smiled. “Thanks you guys.” He looked at Henry last. “You can choose who you want to help with.”

Henry turn his attention to jack and Henry. He has to decide who to help. Sammy with the treats or jack with the banner. After some thought he turn to jack. “ I’ll help with the banner.”

Jack nodded and Exchanged their Numbles for later. Once all roles were settled each one began to leave. Henry and Wally left with each other as planned. Joey left after getting belongings, giving a warning glare to jack on the way out, and jack left with Sammy after they cleared up the room.

—————

The next morning, Henry woke up like Normal and started getting ready for school. As he got ready he was reminded of his and Wally’s time together and how he got the sense Wally was off. He had looked and sounded happy but it was like there was sadness. He asked Wally about it the night before and Wally told him he was good. He didn’t bother him again on it that night but was still worried.

Henry grabbed his phone and decided to call him but he didn’t answer. He wasn’t to worried by this as Wally liked to sleep in a bit longer. He’ll meet him outside and everything will be all good. Henry continued getting ready for the day. He got dressed, ate some breakfast then brushed his teeth and headed out to there meeting spot.

There was no signs of Wally as he arrived which was also normal behavior of Wally. Henry decided to read some of his book as he waited and pulled it out, flipping to the page he was on.

He got lost in the book and read longer then he thought. Almost half an hour has gone by with no Wally showing up. This was strange. Wally would have call him if he was sick or not going to school. He would’ve been here if he was. Something was off.

Henry headed to Wally’s house and knocked on the door then waiting. No one came to the door so he tried again meeting with the same results. He turned the noob to see if it was unlocked and sure enough it was. “Wally?” He called out opening the door. There was no answer in the dark house making his stomach to knot up. He walked deeper in the house, calling out again. “Wally? Are you home?” And again no answer. He got to the bottom of of the stairs and looked up calling one more time with no answer.

He claimed up the stairs and approached Wally’s bedroom, knowing on the door. “Wally it’s me, Henry. Are you in here?” He ask pressing his ear to the door. After a long moment with no answer he opened the door only to find a Horrible seen.

His friend...his best friend was hanging from a noose. His desk chair kicked away from him. Wally’s skin was a pale blue grayish color and there was no light in his eyes.

Henry was frozen in place there, unable to look away from his friends corpse. He felt cold tears pour down his cheeks but he couldn’t acknowledge them. It felt like his would just got turn upside. “N-no...” he finally spoke after a long while of Silence. “Wally....” he said then fell on his knees and sobbed in his hands.

Once the shock was gone and he was numb he pulled out his phone to call for an ambulance. It took 20 minutes for them to arrived there and was taking out of the house for them to take down the body. Henry watched them carry his friend out in a body back and loaded in the back of an ambulance, driving away soon after.

He went back to his own house after answering questions and sat on his bed. He didn’t feel like going to school today. He didn’t feel like doing anything today after that. But it wasn’t long before his phone rang. He looked at it and saw it was jack. He didn’t want to answer but he did. “ y-yea..?”

“He-hey Henry.” Jack spoke sounding nervous” I herd what happened...it’s so sad..” he said.

Henry was suspicious of this. How would Jack know if he was at school and why was he sounded so scared. “Jack how do you know..?” He ask.

Jack went silent for a long moment before speaking quickly into the phone. “Henry, Joeys not a good person!” Right then his phone hung up on Henry.

“Hello?” Henry asked. “Jack you there?” After no answer he tried to call him back a few times but couldn’t get a hold of him again. After the fourth try he gave up and wondered what he was taking about. He laid back in his bed in thought staring at the ceiling. He let his mind wonder in memories of him and Wally. The first time they meet, there times at the fair and the last movie they seen.

His thoughts got interrupted again with another phone call, But not jack. It was Sammy. “Hello?” He said once he answered. He immediately herd crying from the other end

“Henry..” Sammy said after taking a moment to calm himself down. “I-I need to tell you s-something...but first I n-need you to p-promise me you will believe me..” he ask sounding desperate.

Henry was so confused and didn’t want to deal with anything more today. But the boy started scared and Henry could swear he herd pounding on a door on Sammy’s end. “Yea I promise Sam. What’s going on.” He ask sitting up.

“It’s Joey...” He told, sniffling fight after. “Joey isn’t a kind person...”

#bendy and the ink machine #sammy lawrence #joey drew #wally franks #Henry stain #jack

[hyunllx]

The Christmas Baker

A Hyunlix Hallmark Fic Chapter 1/5 wc: 4k Hwang Hyunjin is a rich, cocky, famous dancer that prefers to keep to himself during the holidays. When his roommate drags him along to visit his hometown, however, Hyunjin meets a boy who helps him believe in the spirit of the season. Primarily Hyunjin’s pov with Felix’s pov added in occasionally. series warnings: Extremely cliche. You will probably cringe at some points but its okay. chapter warnings: Brief mentions of alcohol. note: This fic is not meant to accurately reflect or portray the members of SKZ. This is just for fun. Next Chapter

--------------------&--------------------

    A deep pounding in the temples roused Hyunjin from his sleep, a groan escaping him as he tried to sit up, his head spinning. He remembered he’d crashed on the couch again in the middle of the night after coming home from another company party. As usual, he’d had too much to drink and couldn’t make it all the way to his bedroom to undress or sleep properly. Now his neck and shoulders hurt from the uncomfortable couch and he felt like he needed a year long hot shower.

  The smell of cooking registered in his nose, turning his stomach but waking him up a little more. He could hear the soft voice of his room mate and best friend, Chan, chiming from the kitchen, singing along to a christmas song he couldn’t quite make out.

  Chan emerged from the kitchen carrying a steaming bowl, grinning wide as he noticed Hyunjin up and somewhat alert,

  “Hey sleepyhead, you’re finally awake.” His voice was high and babyish as he approached the couch.

  Hyunjin groaned again. No matter how close they were, he was still embarrassed whenever Chan pulled out his cute charms around him. Lacking the energy to complain so soon after waking up, he just took the bowl from Chan and brought it to his lips without a word. Despite expecting the taste of Chan’s famous hangover soup, Hyunjin still recoiled as the spices burned his tongue and throat. He coughed sharply, earning a pat on the head from his friend,

  “That’ll wake you up for sure.”

  “What’s that?” Hyunjin pointed to the luggage piled next to their apartment’s front door, distracting himself as he took another scalding sip of the soup broth. Chan tilted his head like a confused puppy, frowning,

  “I’m leaving to stay with my brother for break, remember?”

  “That’s today?”

  “Of course. Christmas is only four days away you know.” He didn’t know, but Hyunjin didn’t want to say that out loud. People were always either appalled that he didn’t celebrate the holidays or they pitied him. In reality he never got to celebrate like others did when his parents were busy with holiday music events and parties. He was used to being alone this time of year. Still, he couldn’t help eye the stack of bags with jealousy. The thought of waking up on christmas morning without his best friend was not something he looked forward to.

  Chan noticed the way his eyes kept flicking toward the door,

  “Are you sure I can leave you alone for so long?”

  Hyunjin scoffed, “What do you mean? I’m an adult, I can take care of myself.”

  “Getting drunk every night until Christmas is not taking care of yourself, Hyunnie.” Hyunjin grimaced at the nickname. Chan only used it when he was sincerely worried about him, and Hyunjin didn’t want to have this serious of a conversation when he’d be leaving right after. He focused on finishing his breakfast instead, skin burning where Chan was watching him.

  “Why don’t you come with me?”

  Hyunjin choked as he inhaled broth in shock at the proposition,

  “Excuse me?” He managed between coughs.

  “I mean it. I don’t want you to be here by yourself.”

  The witty come back on Hyunjin’s tongue burned away when he met Chan’s sad eyes. Truthfully, he didn’t want to be here alone either, but the thought of staying in a stranger’s house in a strange town was equally unappealing. 

  “I know my brother won’t mind. He loves company, and we’ll make room for you.”

  “I’m not going to win this fight, am I?” Hyunjin sighed, defeated.

  “Nope!” Chan grinned and dragged him into a one-sided hug, “I’ll help you pack once you wake up.”

  It didn't take long for Hyunjin to shower and collect his things. Though what he owned was luxurious and expensive, he didn't own much of anything. His clothes for the trip took up a rolling suitcase and everything else fit neatly in his shoulder bag. How Chan managed to fill three duffle bags, a laptop case, and his backpack, Hyunjin would never know. Still, between the two of them packing up Chan’s car, they managed to get on the road by the time he’d wanted to leave. 

  “Do you mind if I call him to let him know we’re coming?” Chan asked, fiddling with his dashboard to connect the car to his phone.

  Hyunjin shrugged, putting in his ear buds to respect the privacy of their conversation. Even with his volume turned, though, the reverberating bass of the deepest “Hello?” he’d ever heard cut through to his ears. 

  Hyunjin had never seen Chan’s brother, but he couldn’t imagine the person that voice must be coming from. His eyes widened as he listened to them talk,

  “I’m on my way over now!” Chan said, flashing Hyunjin a bright smile when he noticed his friend’s face, “Hey, I’m sorry for not asking earlier but my roommate didn’t have a place to celebrate Christmas, so is it alright I brought him along?”

  “Of course, of course!” His brother responded, his voice lightening only slightly with warmth, “I’ll get the guest room ready. Will he be coming to the party?”

  Hyunjin sat up straighter at the mention of a party, looking toward Chan, who only rolled his eyes,

  “Yeah, I think it’ll be good for him to go.”

  “Sweet! I’ll see you guys when you get here.”

  “Love you, Lix.”

  “Love you too!”

  “Party?” Hyunjin asked curiously as soon as they hung up the call, “I thought you wanted me to stay away from parties.”

  “It’s not the kind of party you’re thinking of.” Chan shook his head, a laugh hiding behind his lips, “It’s a celebration on Christmas Eve. Everyone comes together for free food and gifts.”

  “Sounds boring.” As long as there’s liquor for the adults, he thought to himself. He knew he’d need it to get through that kind of Christmas cheer. Chan only hummed in response, turning on the radio. It didn’t take long for him to start singing along to the holiday music, definitely not helping Hyunjin’s mood, even with his own music playing through his headphones.

  It took a couple songs passing without him registering the music for Hyunjin to realize he was still thinking about the voice on the other end of the car speakers. So warm yet so deep and mysterious at the same time. Chan talked often with pride about his younger brother, but Hyunjin had never taken the time to envision what the boy was actually like. In his head he was just a younger Chan. Clearly not with that voice. If he’d heard someone speak like that in a club or at a venue, he’d be flirting with them in an instant.

  After an hour of passive contemplation and at least ten plays of Mariah Carey's All I Want For Christmas Is You, Hyunjin finally pulled out his ear buds and turned down the radio. Chan turned to look at him mid-lyric,

  "What's wrong?"

  "Tell me more about your brother." Chan opened his mouth to gush like usual but paused, looking at him curiously,

  "You've never asked about him before."

  "It would be rude to show up at his house and not know anything about him."

  “I talk about him all the time?”

  “I don’t listen.” He lied.

  Chan rolled his eyes, “Well… his name is Felix. He’s the same age as you are, 6 months younger. I basically raised him when we were kids because our parents were gone all the time. He owns and works at a little bakery in town-”

  “He’s a baker?” Now Hyunjin was really confused. 

  “The BEST baker!” Chan corrected, a little over-excited, “Seriously, all your stress will melt away the second you taste his brownies. He’s also a great cook, of course. And he’s a dancer, like you!”

  Hyunjin couldn’t figure this boy out. Every detail Chan shared over the following half hour was like gaining a new jigsaw piece that belonged to a completely different puzzle. “Felix” was a baker at heart with a passion for singing and dancing. Somehow he’d never followed in his elder brother’s footsteps despite being a gifted musician. By the time he was done listening, he both regretted asking and was unimaginably curious. All because of that stupidly deep voice on the other end of the call. 

  They drove from late morning until sunset, the city passing by them giving way to towns and eventually just an expanse of highway and trees. Occasionally an off-ramp would lead to some semblance of civilization beyond the humming of the cars around them, otherwise there was nothing this far out of the city. Clouds on the horizon turned deep red and purple as Chan finally took an exit, a storm in the distance squeezing the last drops of golden light from the sun before it set.

  They took several winding turns through the trees until the sun disappeared behind them and lights flared up around the car. Hyunjin stared in amazement as the trees lining the main road held strings of christmas lights in their branches, leading them straight to the town’s center. Though he would never admit it out loud, Hyunjin thought they were beautiful. 

  The entire town was decorated as though they had just entered the north pole. Every light pole held an oversized wreath, every tree strung with lights, every hovel and storefront decorated as if they wanted to see their tiny town from space. Hyunjin was dumbstruck; he was used to this kind of sight in big cities. It was to draw tourists and commerce for the big stores and the attractions. But here, this tiny town had none of that. They did this for the joy of it. How anyone could be in love with this holiday in such a way, he did not know. He was so lost in wonder he didn’t even notice they’d stopped until Chan turned the car off and the radio stopped playing, snapping Hyunjin’s attention back to reality.

  They’d pulled up to the small driveway of an equally small house. It was two stories tall, but only wide enough to fit the front door and a window on the first story. Thin trails of smoke rose from the back of the house, and a porch enclosed the entrance, orange light spilling out onto the wooden steps from the door’s frosted glass window.

  Shivers ripped through Hyunjin as he stepped out of the car, his breath swirling around him in a puff of steam. The temperature had dropped below freezing already, the cold eating away the nerves that started bubbling in Hyunjin’s stomach. The house in front of him looked cozy and warm and he just wanted to get inside.

  “Come on!” Chan grinned, motioning for Hyunjin to follow as he nearly sprinted up the stairs. The door was unlocked for them, and he shuffled after his friend into the heat of the home. He rubbed his hands together as he stood over the humming radiator of the entryway, taking in the overwhelming sensory experience of the home. Other than the warmth, the first thing to hit Hyunjin was the smell of food cooking somewhere deeper in the house, making his stomach growl. He hadn’t eaten much more than a few snacks since his breakfast soup. 

  Secondly, everything was covered in christmas decorations. Everything. The walls, the stairs to the second floor, the doors, the dining room to their left. Even the crown molding lining the ceiling of the old house. The warm orange light he’d seen from outside was emitted by dozens if not hundreds of little warm-white bulbs. It was as if Santa Claus himself lived there.

  “We’re here!” Chan called out, waddling into the hallway with Hyunjin right behind. A half-laugh half-yell of excitement burst from what Hyunjin assumed was the kitchen, startling him. Yet the human that emerged from the doorway was the most shocking part.

  The boy was just a tiny bit shorter than Chan, and petite enough to be swimming in his oversized sweater and apron. His hair was a shade more platinum than Hyunjin's own blonde, his skin a soft russet with splashes of dark freckles across his nose and cheeks.

  "Hyung!" He exclaimed in a high-pitched voice as he ran into Chan's outstretched arms. Certainly this wasn't the same boy that spoke over the car speakers.

  "You must be Hyunjin!" His deep voice returned as he pulled away from his brother, beaming up at Hyunjin with the world's brightest grin, "It's nice to meet you!"

  "Nice to meet you t-" Hyunjin had extended a hand for a handshake but Felix quickly ignored it, pulling him into a sudden hug. Hyunjin stiffened at the informality, entirely unprepared to meet someone that was even more physically affectionate than Chan. He could see the family resemblance. 

  “Don’t be nervous,” Felix tried to soothe him, patting his back before pulling away, “You’re hyung’s friend, so this is your home too.”

  Hyunjin couldn’t respond, his brain was short-circuiting from the physical affection and the deep voice and all the lights. All he could process was Chan trying desperately yet failing to suppress a laugh in his direction. Thankfully, an obnoxious beeping from the kitchen saved him from having to formulate a response.

  “Ah! Dinner’s ready, you guys made it just in time!” He scurried off to fetch the food, bouncing along with excitement as he ran like a child.

  “You alright?” Chan chuckled, smacking Hyunjin between the shoulderblades to grab his attention.

  “What have you dragged me into?” He whispered, hoping his host wouldn’t hear.

  “Come on Hyunjin, I know you guys are going to end up getting along just fine.” Chan winked at him, which Hyunjin thought was odd, but at this point everything around him was twisted backwards and upside down so he didn’t think much more of it. 

  They hung up their jackets and Chan led him into the dining room where Felix was setting out three large bowls of rice next to three bowls of the most delicious smelling kimchi stew Hyunjin had ever seen. The chandelier that hung over the small table was turned off, the room illuminated instead by the vibrant white glow of the christmas tree in the corner of the room. Felix’s smile as they entered was just as bright; Hyunjin felt he couldn’t look too long or else he’d get lost in it. Instead he turned to Chan as he took a seat next to him, watching his friend’s nose scrunch up at the thought of a spicy meal.

  “Don’t worry, it’s not very spicy.” Felix assured, reading Hyunjin’s exact train of thought. Of course he’d know Chan couldn’t handle spicy food. He couldn’t even eat the hangover soup he made Hyunjin in the mornings. 

  “Thank God.” Chan nodded with relief, “Shall we eat? I’m starving.”

  “Of course, please help yourselves.” Felix said as he took a seat across from Hyunjin at the table, still smiling. Hyunjin still couldn’t look at him, his heart skipping at the sight of his grin. Instead, he dug into his stew. 

  An involuntary groan rumbled in his throat at the flavor, his body warming instantly as he slowed to savor the taste. Not that he’d had many home cooked meals in his life, but Hyunjin couldn’t help but think it was the best tasting meal he’d ever had.

  When he came back up from his bowl, Hyunjin froze under the stares of both Chan and Felix. They looked at him eagerly, leaning in as if waiting for him to speak.

  “Uh…” He struggled to find words as he swallowed a mouthful of beef, “It’s really good.”

  Felix let out a sigh of relief then a loud, sudden laugh. His grin swallowed his face again as he picked up his chopsticks,

  “Good! I was worried whether or not you’d like it.”

  The comment came off so casual that it left Hyunjin’s ears burning with embarrassment. Why did he care what Hyunjin thought about his food? They were strangers. Yet the longer he lingered in this house the more it felt familiar. Like he was visiting a beloved family member after years apart. He shook off the feeling. 

  He’s a stranger. Hyunjin reminded himself.

  “Is Seungmin still working at the bakery after moving out?” Chan asked when Hyunjin’s senses were ready to return to the conversation.

  “Yeah, but I gave him the week off.” Felix waved his hand dismissively, though a smirk lingered on his lips, “He deserves to spend as much time as he can with Minho.”

  “They’re back together?”

  “Do they ever really break up?” Both brothers laughed in agreement, nodding vigorously. Hyunjin was lost in the conversation, so he just sat and smiled awkwardly. Chan giggled teasingly as he continued, 

  “What about you? Is there a special boy I should meet while I’m here?”

  Hyunjin and Felix immediately locked eyes at the question. Felix’s face grew tomato-red, and the intense fire in his ears told Hyunjin they looked much the same. His head reeled as he realized that’s why Chan was never awkward whenever he came home to find Hyunjin with a boy, or why they never had the talk about it after. 

  “Uh.. No- no. I’m not seeing anyone.” Felix stuttered, stuffing his mouth with rice so he wouldn’t have to keep talking. Hyunjin felt sorry for him as the boy’s sunny smile vanished. He could sense Felix’s anxiety at being outed to a stranger. Even if he’d welcomed Hyunjin with open arms, this was a different level of personal information. He tried to catch Felix’s eye again but the boy was too focused on his food. Hyunjin cleared his throat instead,

  “That’s too bad. I was hoping to meet a cute boy while we were here.”

  Felix perked up a little at that, a smile entertaining the corners of his lips while he chewed. They finished their dinner in mostly silence, the sweet hum of christmas music filtering into the room via the kitchen. Though he knew he’d regret it when he returned to the dance studio after break, Hyunjin ate until he was completely full, letting himself indulge in the delicious food just this once.

  “So… just you in the bakery tomorrow?” Chan asked as they all leaned back in their chairs, finished and satisfied.

  “Yep!” Felix smiled and nodded as he stood to gather the empty dishes from the table, “I’m only aiming for 1000 this year so the two days should be plenty of time. As long as you’ll help?”

  “Of course! What are brothers for?”

  “1000 what?” Hyunjin looked between them, confused and apprehensive about being in a stranger’s home by himself.

  “Cookies! For the Christmas Eve Party. You’re welcome to come help too if you want.”

  Hyunjin screwed up his face at the idea; he was NOT a good cook, or baker. Hence his lack of experience with home-cooked meals, “I think I’ll just take the day to look around town.”

  “Well you’re welcome to stop by. It’ll just be us in there.” Was that disappointment in his deep voice? Hyunjin shook his head at the thought. While he certainly had a reputation for being cocky, he wasn’t typically this full of himself. There was no reason for this boy he’d just met to have such an impact on his emotions. Felix didn’t care about him or what he did. They didn’t know each other. Hyunjin was only here because of Chan. 

  “I’m going to start unloading the car.” He said, already heading for the front door. He needed to clear his head. The cold night air would help.

--------------------Felix--------------------

    “Is that everything?” Felix asked as he helped his brother tuck the last of the gifts he’d brought under the giant tree in his living room. His cheeks hurt from smiling, and he had to restrain himself from shaking the boxes whenever he glimpsed his name written on the tag.

  “Yep!” Chan smiled just as wide, pretending to dust off his hands, “Just have to unpack my clothes and stuff.”

  “Do you want help?”

  “Nah. I’ll be back down in a bit.” He scratched his fingers in Felix’s hair as he stood, making the younger boy giggle. Felix hadn’t realized how much he had missed his hyung; Chan was gone to the big city to chase his dreams and rarely got a break to come home. Whenever he visited, it felt like Felix’s heart was whole again. 

  As he stood up from his spot in front of the tree, Felix’s mind wandered from his brother to the stranger upstairs, Hyunjin. Hwang Hyunjin. 

  Being a dancer himself, Felix was familiar with the dancers that Chan worked with, spending hours memorizing their routines. The fact that Hyunjin was here in his home made nervous, star-struck butterflies flutter in his stomach. Even despite his cold demeanor.

  Felix could tell it was an act; the mask had slipped when Hyunjin rescued him from Chan accidentally outing that he liked boys in front of a stranger. It slipped in the way Hyunjin looked to Chan like a brother, for comfort and reassurance. There was a kind person underneath all that ice. He’d warm up once they got to know each other, Felix was sure of it.

  “I’ll go check on him, I think.” He mumbled to himself as he checked his pulse, a nervous tick he’d had since he was a child. He stopped to grab a pillow and blankets from the closet under the stairs, just in case his guest needed an extra one, before heading up.

  The door to the guest bedroom was ajar so Felix opened it with a nudge of his foot. He found Hyunjin standing in the middle of the room, vigorously texting on his phone. His long, golden hair hung loose, free from the ponytail he’d had it in before. His plump bottom lip was trapped between his teeth, his eyebrows pulled together in concern. It was the first time Felix really recognized how breath-takingly beautiful the man was in person.

  When he noticed light spilling into the room from the hall, Hyunjin looked up from his phone, startled as though Felix had caught him doing something he shouldn’t have been. Frowning, he paused in the doorway,

  “Is everything okay?”

  “Y-yeah. Sorry, you just surprised me.” Hyunjin spoke as if finding his breath again, his ears turning pink again like they had been at dinner.

  “Um… Is there anything you need? Like another blanket or something?” Felix shuffled his feet awkwardly. The star-struck butterflies were back in full-force and he was sure he looked just as embarrassed as Hyunjin himself did.

  “No thank you, I’m alright.” An awkward pause, “Hey… is that offer to help at the bakery still open?” 

  Felix’s heart flipped up into his throat,

  “Yeah of course! You… you changed your mind?”

  “I don’t think I’ll be seeing much of the town.” He stepped back and pointed to the small window. Half an inch of snow already clung to the outer windowsill while large, heavy flakes sparkling in the lights lining the house dove through the air. The storm that had been threatening the sky all day finally arrived. 

  “Oh that’s alright,” Felix grinned at the sight, excitement mingling with his nervousness making him bounce on his toes, “We’ll have a white christmas at least! You’re welcome to join me and Chan any time.”

  “Thank you.” Hyunjin bowed slightly, still being awkward, “Um… good night.”

  “Good night, Hyunjin.” Before he could see his reaction, Felix stepped back and shut the door. His heart raced and he had to take a moment to catch his breath.

  

“It’s going to be a long three days…”

#stray kids #skz fic #skz fanfic #skz au #lee felix #hyunjin #hyunlix #hyunlix fic #chanlix are brothers in this #mentions of canon 2min but theyre supporting characters #the christmas baker #i love hallmark movies and this is literally as cliche as i could make it on purpose

[deathlikesdeep-dish]

Heat (Zoro x Reader)

Hiiii!

I’m new on the One Piece fanfic scene but I had a ton of fun writing this first little story for the One Piece of Summer Writing Challenge! (also please forgive me if there’s multiple submissions i’m returning to tumblr after like an 8 year hiatus lol) (also also i’m sorry i’m verbose i hope this isn’t too long)

Warnings: some language

Word Count: 3628

Word Prompt: Heat

You can hardly believe that it’d been two whole years since the crew had been together. Two years. Holy shit. You feel a lump in your throat as you approach Shakky’s place. You have no idea who, if anyone, had already arrived. Your heart races excitedly at the thought and a small smile creeps over your features. You make yourself sit on a nearby bench and breathe before you hike the last flight of stairs to the bar. It’s a hot day, impossibly hot and you sit and take a sip of water from your hip flask. The cool liquid pours down your throat and you sigh happily as you wonder what the very near future would hold.

Would it be Franky? You imagine the blue-haired madman, and laugh. Maybe he’d found another way to fuel his cyborg frame other than cola. You laugh again.

Who am I kidding? You think to yourself. The reason he runs on cola is because he wants to run on cola.

Or maybe it would be Usopp or Chopper? The last time you saw Chopper, it had been so frightening. He was vast and out of control from using those rumble balls. A shudder runs up your spine at the thought, but you push the thought away shaking your head. Your h/c hair ruffles at the motion, and you push a strand out of your face as you stare at the ground beneath your boots. Usopp, you are sure, will be one of the early ones, not wanting to be one-upped. You roll your eyes, your mind’s ear imagining him shouting, “Well, of course I’m here first! I’m the great captain Usopp!”

You already know what Brook--you mean “Soul King” had been up to. You laugh. You had to admit that his stuff was pretty catchy, and you wonder if he’d even want to come back to the pirate life after all that fame and fortune. It had been nice over the last two years to follow him in the papers whenever you could; a small link to your old life had been comforting and familiar.

Nami and Robin were almost certainly already here--Nami, probably off conning some shop owner into giving their store away half-price, and Robin wandering around looking at architecture, reading a book, or saying weirdly cryptic lines to passersby. You sigh fondly, reminiscing about the times the three ladies of the Strawhats spent together. Not having had many female friends to speak of before the Strawhats, it had been nice to have some badass women to bond with over the months before your separation. In your two years alone, you’d missed the companionship.

Maybe Sanji is at Shakky’s already, cooking up some delicious concoction for you to devour. Your stomach grumbles on cue, and your mouth waters thinking about it. If Luffy was already here, then any food would be gone twice over. Of all the changes that are sure to have occurred, your captain’s appetite is the least likely to change. You can only imagine what power he has achieved in the last two years. Your stomach sinks a bit thinking about when you learned of Ace’s death in the Paramount War. The pain Luffy must have endured. Alone. But, he was not one to dwell, and wouldn’t want you to either.

So you don’t. You’re strong--much stronger than you were the last time the crew saw you. You’re not the same girl that you were two years ago. No, not even close. You’re taller, with broader shoulders and hips. While you were once slender due to malnutrition, you are now toned and muscled after two years of hard training. You felt vitality that you once never thought you’d feel coursing through your muscles. Your top, frayed at the hem, falls to just above your naval and drapes over one shoulder, leaving the other uncovered. Your s/c flesh is exposed to the waistband of your khaki shorts. The leather of your boots is soft and worn, the same pair you’d been wearing when you were launched away from your crew by Kuma. The holster dangling from your waist carried some of your throwing knives, which you twiddle absently at your side in nervousness. You had become adept at hand to hand combat since the crew saw you last. You are nimble, fast and lethal. You smirk and let the confidence roll over your body. You can’t wait to see how skilled everyone else had become.

You flex and stretch, standing up from the bench and begin your ascent up the stairs. They groan under your weight and you shift the bag on your shoulder, securing it more tightly against your body. You feel your heart beginning to race again at the thought of the final crew member. You can only imagine how strong he’d become.

Zoro.

You think of his green hair, and his white shirt, the top buttons always haphazardly undone. His slim black pants and boots, the sound of his earrings jangling in the sea breeze. You see his tight, intense gaze and that smirk that always weakened your knees. The knot in your stomach tangles more at the thought as you crest the top of the stairs. You recall the days that you sat in the Crow’s Nest together as he worked out. He never paid you much attention, but simply tolerating your presence in his sacred space made you feel important.

You feel the heat rise to your face and you can’t tell if it’s because of the sweltering sun of the Archipelago or the indecent thoughts that have begun to flood your mind. You take a deep breath as you nearly reach the doorway of Shakky’s place, when you stop in your tracks at the silhouette in the doorway. The sun is bright, so you can’t make out who it is right away, but as the figure takes a step, there’s no mistaking that green head of hair.

“Well,” You hear Shakky’s voice from inside the bar.

“Wow, I didn’t think you’d be the first,” You hear Rayleigh’s voice chime in.

The greenette stays silent for a moment and then replies, “Oh yeah? Nobody else has shown up.” He pauses. “Well damn, guess they got lost.”

You can hear the smirk in his voice. It’s unmistakable.

Before you can stop yourself, you call out to him. “Zoro!” You immediately flush, but you know this time it’s not from the heat.

You see Zoro stiffen at your voice, but he quickly turns around and meets your gaze with his own.

Christ…

You immediately notice that your eyes only meet one of his, a scar running from forehead to cheekbone on the left side of his face, his eye tightly shut. It makes him look even more ruggedly attractive, if at all possible, and you allow yourself to stare for a moment.  His jaw, still angular and chiseled, is formed into a lazy half-smirk. Your e/c eyes trail down from his jaw to his throat and his collarbone, a body part you became intimately familiar with when you’d spent long moments staring at it over the top of his unbuttoned shirt, wondering what it would be like to nuzzle your face into its contours.

A part you are not used to seeing so casually, was the rest of his broad chest, which is exposed under the deep green coat he was wearing, the trademark Mihawk scar that ran from shoulder to hip still proudly displayed. You are glad to see that his haramaki remained unchanged over the last two years along with the three swords he carries at his side. He shifts his weight to his left side and leans his forearm on the hilt of his swords.

“Y/n!” He replies with a broad grin of recognition. He jogs toward you, and you find yourself moving towards him too.

Zoro is stunned to see you. In all honesty, he is stunned to know that he’s the first to arrive in the first place. Although, he did leave several weeks prior. Just in case.

You are...so different. His eyes move across your body, and he coughs, a slight flush spreading across his cheeks. He grits his teeth frustratedly.

Shit...get it together. He thinks to himself.

“I can’t believe we’re the first ones here!” You say, before pausing. “Actually...how the hell are you the first one here??”

You laugh and he manages to chuckle too. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He jokes.

“Shakky and Raleigh inside?” You ask, jabbing your thumb towards the open door to the bar.

Zoro nods, rubbing a calloused hand at the nape of his neck. “Yep, they’re in there. Waiting like the old gossips they are.” He laughs quietly, shaking his head.

You can’t help but watch his arm move behind his head. His worn bandana is tied around his bicep over the top of his coat, and you can’t help but imagine how his tanned skin stretches over the muscle there. You realize, too late, that you had been silent for a beat too long.

“Y/n? You good?” He asks, raising a brow.

Your attention snaps back like a rubber band and you laugh nervously. “Hmm? Oh, yeah, sorry. Just can’t believe how long it’s been.” You say lamely.

You walk into the bar, Zoro trailing behind you and you greet Shakky and Rayleigh with a wide grin. Shakky compliments your new look, making you spin around as if to show off your outfit. You can’t help but feel confident and a surge of pride wells within you. She pours you a drink, having already poured one for Zoro, and invites you to sit down at a far booth. You sit next to Rayleigh, playfully bumping him and he wraps an arm around your shoulder. He gives you an affectionate squeeze as he tells you how pleased he is to see you guys again. Zoro takes a seat at the far corner of a booth. He props his feet up and takes a long drag of sake straight from the bottle. He’d already finished the drink that was poured, naturally, and stopped Shakky before she could pour him another. He asked for the bottle, shrugging and said that we should just “cut out the middleman.”

You regale the three others in your tales of the last two years. You speak about your Master, your training, the island you’d resided on, everything. Shakky gives updates too, about some of the rumors that had been floating around in the Strawhats’ absence, particularly about Luffy and Pirate Hunter Roronoa Zoro. Shakky, never one to be subtle, asks Zoro pointblank about what he’d been up to.

“Eh, not too much excitement,” He says vaguely. “The usual. Swords, drinking, naps.” Shakky rolls her eyes, unsatisfied, but you just laugh, knowing that he was not one to talk too much about himself.

After a long while, the four of you notice that the sun has begun to set. You are beginning to feel the drinks you’d consumed, your laughter a bit louder, your tongue a bit looser, your hair a bit wilder. The bar is illuminated in deep orange and red hues and you glance over at Zoro. Half of his face is cast in shadow, while the other half colored the same tint as the room. It looks almost as if he is on fire and you are mesmerized by him. He’s staring at you intently. You see beads of sweat along his hairline, and you notice that he has removed his outer coat.

“Damn Shakky,” He breathes, not breaking eye contact with you. “I don’t remember it being this hot two years ago.”

Shakky laughs. “Well, we’re going through a bit of a heatwave right now. It’s unusual for this time of year, but occasionally the weather currents bring a front in. It’s supposed to be like this for the next few days.”

His knees are propped up and he rests his forearms on top of them as he breaks your gaze and looks out the window. HIs profile is immaculate, and your eyes trace each feature--his straight nose, his angled jaw, and his full lips. Your lips subconsciously part, and it isn’t until you feel your tongue on them that you notice how you’re staring. Shakky, however, has noticed how the two of you have been trading stares at each other the entire evening. She smirks and stands with a yawn.

“Well Rayleigh,” She starts. “It seems likes it’s about time to close up shop for the evening. You good?”

Rayleigh looks confused at first, however, when Shakky gestures quickly to you and Roronoa, Rayleigh nods knowingly. He looks down at his nearly full drink and smiles. He tips his head back and swigs down the rest, placing the empty glass resolutely on the hard wood. “You know what, Shakky? You’re absolutely right. These old bones can’t drink like they used to. I’m headed down to my place at the docks. It’s cooler there anyway.” He stands up and bids the room farewell. The doorbell jingles behind him as he exits the bar.

You get the feeling that they’d been watching you and Zoro, and you feel embarrassed. But you don’t want to complain. You just hope that Zoro wouldn’t be ready to turn in yet either.

Shakky approaches Zoro and gives him a gentle kiss on the cheek. “Night, Roronoa. If you get lonely, my room is always open.” She winks at him, entertained by how he squirms at the unexpected contact.

“Uh, yeah, sure…” He mutters, flustered. Shakky laughs.

“Shit Roronoa, just relax. I’m only kidding.” She walks over to a door behind the bar, presumably that led to her sleeping quarters, and opens it. “Or am I?” She grins slyly.

This time, Zoro knows better. The greenette shakes his head with a chuckle. “Goodnight, Shakky.”

She, too, disappears. The door closes behind her with a soft click, and the two of you are left alone. The sun has finally set beneath the mangroves and the sound of crickets fills the room. Despite the sun having set, the room is humid and very warm.

You reach a slender hand up and wipe beads of condensation off the back of your neck with a nervous sigh. “You’re right, Zoro,” You say after a moment. “It is absolutely stifling in here.”

He hums in agreement and holds up the bottle of sake questioningly. You nod and he tosses the closed bottle to you. However, his toss is a little short and to the left. But you’re fast and you catch it without a problem, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Aim much?” You joke as you pour yourself another drink before tossing it back to him.

He catches it easily and smirks. “Well, just checking to see if all that training you were going on about actually paid off.” He takes a swig. “Seems like it did.”

You were unbelievable. Zoro marvels at your agility. He had been enthralled as you told your story of the last two years. He watched the way your eyes lit up in excitement at certain parts or when your tone shifted to something more sinister. This was the y/n he’d always known--vibrant, curious and powerful. Zoro has always admired your tenacity. It was something of himself that he saw in you. He admired your intelligence as well, and your quick wit. It had always been a little intimidating, but now you were a force. It overwhelmed the swordsman. And thrilled him in the same way a new enemy excited him, got his adrenaline pumping and his heart racing.

He watches as you take a sip of your drink. His gaze follows the long line of your neck down to your collarbone, which he finds himself lingering on for longer than what was appropriate between nakama. You had always been objectively attractive, but Zoro never really paid attention to things like that. But now, you made that impossible to ignore. He is very attracted to you, entranced by your confident aura that pours off of you like cool sake.

The alcohol warms your blood and before you know what you’re doing, you prop your elbow on the table and say, “Seems like your training paid off too. I mean, look at you. All extra-muscley and shit.”

Zoro’s eyes widen slightly before he laughs out loud. “Thank you? I think.”

The liquid courage you’ve consumed does little for your filter (or your shame) so you continue. “I remember when I used to hang out in the Crow’s nest while you worked out. You were strong then, obviously. But it’s different now. You seem...invincible.” You breathe.

Zoro takes a moment to consider. “Invincible, huh?” He chuckles. “Hardly.”

You scoff and roll your eyes, but don’t reply.

Zoro stands up, his coat remaining in his seat. Your eyes follow the contour of his chest and he notices you watching him. He loves knowing that you look at him the same way that he looks at you.

“Come on,” He says after a moment, holding out his free hand, the other still holding the bottle of sake.

You take it without thinking. “Where are we going?” His hand is rough and cool to the touch, despite the heat in the room. He’s never held your hand before now. His good eye lands on you with a smirk that turns the knot low in your stomach.

“Up,” He replies in a whisper.

You nod wordlessly and stand up, trailing behind him as he walks towards the back door of the bar. When you exit, you sigh happily when a cool breeze flows along your damp skin. He echoes the sentiment with a contented hum, and continues towards the side of the building where he finds a ladder.

“Ladies first,” He grins, gesturing for you to climb the ladder up to the roof of the bar.

You raise an eyebrow, but comply nonetheless. As you climb, you make sure to move your hips more exaggeratedly, knowing the view you were providing him.

He knows exactly what he’s doing, of course, and admires your ass as you climb the ladder. You really are something. He wants to do more than just hold your hand. He wants to trail his hands along your curves, feel your strong body against the planes of his chest. He wants to know what your lips taste like, what your h/c hair feels like entangled in his fingers. But he knows that he needs to take it slow for both of your sake. It’s been two years. A lot has changed, and you are still his nakama first and foremost. There’s nothing that he would sacrifice to keep that.

The ladder is taller than you think it is by looking at it and when you arrive at the top of the bar, you are surprised to find an expansive platform.

“Wow,” You look open-mouthed. “How’d you know this was up here?” You look to Zoro who hops up onto the platform.

He shrugs. “I didn’t. I just saw the ladder earlier and figured it would be worth exploring.”

He walks up behind you in all of his shirtless beauty and sits, his legs apart as he leans back on his forearms. You’re still standing, looking up at the vast mangroves all around you, the stars peeking through the tree-tops. He lets you admire the scenery because it gives him a few moments to admire you. He clears his throat to get your attention and pulls you down to him.

With a light gasp, you find yourself sitting between his legs, your back against his chest and his arms wrapped around you. You are blushing furiously now. He hums contentedly, moving to nuzzle your hair and inhale your clean scent.

“What are you doing?” You manage to croak out.

“Enjoying the company,” He murmurs into the side of your neck.

You feel his heart beating swiftly against your back as you lean into him with a deep sigh. Your brain wants to overcomplicate this.

What does this mean? What does he want? Does he feel the same way about me that I feel about him? Does he...you gulp. Does he...want me, the way that I want him?

He feels you stiffen. “Y/n, hey,” He says. “It’s okay. This doesn’t have to mean anything that we don’t want it to mean.”

It seems like mind-reading is on the roster of new super powers he’s acquired. You grumble internally.

He laughs, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear before he moves away. You whimper softly at the loss of contact, and turn to face him with a confused look. Though he did shift backwards, he didn’t move all that far away from you, so you’re surprised that you’re nearly face to face when you turn around.

He gently touches his thumb to your parted lips. “We’ve got time, y/n. I’m not going anywhere, and neither are you. So let’s just take the time and figure it out.” He smiles.

You feel your heart swell in your chest as you meet his intense stare. “Y-yeah, o-okay.” You stutter, still not quite believing that Roronoa Zoro has anything he wants to figure out with you. Your reverie is interrupted by Zoro’s gentle kiss. It’s a kiss that foreshadows what else could come of it, one that’s slow and burning and brimming with possibilities. He pulls away with a shudder.

“We’ve got time.” He says again, seeming to convince himself with the second iteration. “Besides,” He pulls back fully this time, taking in your lovely face before he smirks. “It’s too damn hot to be this close right now anyway.”

#doctorgerth #one piece of summer #summerwritingchallenge #roronoazoro #one piece #zoro x reader #zoroxreader #onepiece #laws-yellow-submarine

[fieryanmitsu]

A Taste of Home | Ikemen Vampire – (Sebastian/Female MC)

I had this idea outlined for almost two months, but didn’t have a chance to actually write it out during  @unappreciatedotomelove’s “Unappreciated Character Month” back in June! My goal was to finish writing before the end of July so that I could at least pretend to contribute this to the event! OTL Luckily, I was able to squeeze in some writing in between work the past few days!!

For this piece, I decided to focus on our lovable butler! Sebastian is actually one of my favourite characters from IkeVamp, and I’m very excited to finally write something for him! This is actually my first time writing for IkeVamp in general, as well, but hopefully it won’t be the last!!

Just going to quickly tag @b1a4seeyou – I’m sooooooo so late, but here’s that Sebastian fic I was talking about, haha!! Also tagging @otonymous and @pseudofaux! No pressure at all, but if either of you have some time, I’d really appreciate hearing your thoughts - especially with Sebastian’s characterization (and since I’ve finally written something in a fandom you’re both active for)!! ☺️

Please enjoy~!

A TASTE OF HOME

Written for “Unappreciated Character Month”

PROMPT: Day 19 – Being ill

CHARACTERS: Sebastian, Female MC

PAIRING: Sebastian/Female MC

My fanfic masterpost: Here

AO3: Link in my Blog Menu

It was an unfamiliar feeling for Sebastian – this consistent throbbing in his head and rawness in his throat. He prided himself on his resilience and excellent immune system, after all. Yet, here he was, flat on his back on a plush mattress, his cheeks flushed with a fever.

The historian couldn’t even remember the last time he had been sick. It certainly hadn’t happened since he had arrived at M. le Comte’s mansion, at the very least. Even though – for months and months on end – he had single-handedly taken care of the cleaning and cooking for all the residents of the mansion with nary a break, he had never taken a sick day.  

As he pondered his recent medical history – or lack thereof – a distant memory flickered across his mind. A memory from many years past and a previous life. However, before his fever-addled brain could grasp it firmly, his bedroom door creaked open.

“How are you feeling, Sebastian?” the newest resident of their mansion asked as she pushed a trolley into the room and quietly closed the door behind her.

“I’ve been better,” he replied dryly, before a cough wracked his body.

“I’ve brought your medicine, and something for you to eat,” the young woman responded with a sympathetic smile. “Can you sit up?”

Sebastian grunted and managed to move his arms, heavy with fatigue, and propped himself up into a seated position. He leaned back against the plush pillows and sighed wearily. Once he was settled, his colleague proffered him several small pellets and a glass of water.

Swallowing the bitter medicine, he watched as the woman next to him lifted the lid off his meal.

“Is that... rice porridge?” he asked incredulously.

“It is! Are you surprised? But, when I heard you were sick… well, I just knew that it had to be rice porridge – there’s just nothing quite like it when you’re not feeling well, right?” she replied. “I added in some minced chicken for protein, too – so that you can get your strength back up.”

Sebastian could only stare speechlessly as she set a serving tray over his lap and placed the piping hot bowl in front of him, along with a couple of ramekins and a saltshaker.

“I couldn’t get my hands on any pickled plums or the other really Japanese toppings, but Dazai was able to find some fresh ginger and scallions for me. He was so excited to hear that I was cooking Japanese food, he scoured the foreign markets for hours to find the ginger, you know,” she chattered, a chuckle slipping past her lips. “Oh, and here’s another one for your diary: Napoleon wouldn’t stop hovering as I cooked – he was so fascinated with the concept of rice porridge that he sat and watched the pot almost the entire time it cooked.”

“I have no idea what diary you’re speaking of,” he retorted automatically with a frown. If only his arms didn’t feel so heavy, he would flick her in the forehead for that comment.

Apparently ignoring him, she turned her attention to the tray and seasoned the rice porridge with a dash of salt and sprinkled on some julienned ginger and slivers of scallion. Mixing the porridge gently, she scooped up a small spoon and blew on it carefully before lifting it to hover in front of his mouth.

“Say ‘ahh’,” she instructed, eyes crinkling with a mischievous smile.

Cheeks flushed – from the fever, or something else, he wasn’t quite sure – Sebastian hesitated, eyes flickering to the door. Confirming that it was indeed firmly shut, he finally leaned forward and took a bite.

The taste was so nostalgic that he became overwhelmed. The fleeting memory from earlier now slammed into him like a truck. And, suddenly, he was in university again – when he had collapsed in his apartment after weeks of stress, overexertion and lack of proper meals and sleep. With his completed thesis safely handed in to his professor, his body had finally surrendered. It was his sister that had found him on the floor, hours later.

He had eaten rice porridge back then, too, with ginger and scallions – they had been his sister’s garnishes of choice since childhood. And, as the taste lingered in his mouth and the warmth of the porridge slid down his throat, spreading through to the tips of his fingers, he felt another unfamiliar feeling prickling at his eyes.

When was the last time he had cried, either?

“Oh no!! Was it too hot?! You’re tearing up!” the woman beside him cried in panic.

“No, it’s fine. Stop flapping around,” he responded with a sigh, closing his eyes for a moment, regaining his composure.

“Oh, thank goodness,” she sighed, her hand pressing against her chest in relief. “How does it taste, anyway?”

Sebastian paused. Instinctually, he wanted to say: ‘It tastes good’; which wasn’t a lie. Though, he honestly would have been quite concerned if it hadn’t been palatable considering it was just rice and water. However, another word had popped into his head instead.

‘Home.’

It tasted like home.

Sebastian’s always so unflappable and competent, I just thought it’d be really cute to see him helpless, for once! Also, I was actually trying to figure out how long Sebastian’s been at the mansion – I haven’t read all of the routes yet and couldn’t remember if it was mentioned in any of the routes I did read – but I wasn’t able to find the answer easily, so I left it kind of vague. I know that, in his birthday story, he mentioned that he hadn’t seen his sister in years, but he didn’t specify if it was because he was at the mansion or if he was already estranged from her previously. If anyone does know the answer, I’d love to know!

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this little fic! Please feel free to leave your thoughts – I love hearing what readers think! If you’re interested in my other entry for the “Unappreciated Character Month”, I also wrote a quick piece for Ikemen Sengoku as well (found here). I plan to round out my entries with one more piece – for Ikemen Revolution – so please stay tuned for that in the next couple of days!

Thank you so much for reading and any reblogs are always appreciated!

-Anmitsu

#Ikemen Vampire #ikevamp #ikevam #ikevamp sebastian #ikevam sebastian #sebastian x reader #UnlovedOtomeCharacters2020 #anmitsu writes

[doctorgerth]

One Piece of Summer (Heat ZoroxReader)

(I apologize if I did this wrong! First time submitting to things lol)

Hiiii!

I’m new on the One Piece fanfic scene but I had a ton of fun writing this first little story for the One Piece of Summer Writing Challenge! (also please forgive me if there’s multiple submissions i’m returning to tumblr after like an 8 year hiatus lol) (also also i’m sorry i’m verbose i hope this isn’t too long)

Warnings: some language

Word Count: 3628

Word Prompt: Heat

You can hardly believe that it’d been two whole years since the crew had been together. Two years. Holy shit. You feel a lump in your throat as you approach Shakky’s place. You have no idea who, if anyone, had already arrived. Your heart races excitedly at the thought and a small smile creeps over your features. You make yourself sit on a nearby bench and breathe before you hike the last flight of stairs to the bar. It’s a hot day, impossibly hot and you sit and take a sip of water from your hip flask. The cool liquid pours down your throat and you sigh happily as you wonder what the very near future would hold.

Would it be Franky? You imagine the blue-haired madman, and laugh. Maybe he’d found another way to fuel his cyborg frame other than cola. You laugh again.

Who am I kidding? You think to yourself. The reason he runs on cola is because he wants to run on cola.

Or maybe it would be Usopp or Chopper? The last time you saw Chopper, it had been so frightening. He was vast and out of control from using those rumble balls. A shudder runs up your spine at the thought, but you push the thought away shaking your head. Your h/c hair ruffles at the motion, and you push a strand out of your face as you stare at the ground beneath your boots. Usopp, you are sure, will be one of the early ones, not wanting to be one-upped. You roll your eyes, your mind’s ear imagining him shouting, “Well, of course I’m here first! I’m the great captain Usopp!”

You already know what Brook–you mean “Soul King” had been up to. You laugh. You had to admit that his stuff was pretty catchy, and you wonder if he’d even want to come back to the pirate life after all that fame and fortune. It had been nice over the last two years to follow him in the papers whenever you could; a small link to your old life had been comforting and familiar.

Nami and Robin were almost certainly already here–Nami, probably off conning some shop owner into giving their store away half-price, and Robin wandering around looking at architecture, reading a book, or saying weirdly cryptic lines to passersby. You sigh fondly, reminiscing about the times the three ladies of the Strawhats spent together. Not having had many female friends to speak of before the Strawhats, it had been nice to have some badass women to bond with over the months before your separation. In your two years alone, you’d missed the companionship.

Maybe Sanji is at Shakky’s already, cooking up some delicious concoction for you to devour. Your stomach grumbles on cue, and your mouth waters thinking about it. If Luffy was already here, then any food would be gone twice over. Of all the changes that are sure to have occurred, your captain’s appetite is the least likely to change. You can only imagine what power he has achieved in the last two years. Your stomach sinks a bit thinking about when you learned of Ace’s death in the Paramount War. The pain Luffy must have endured. Alone. But, he was not one to dwell, and wouldn’t want you to either.

So you don’t. You’re strong–much stronger than you were the last time the crew saw you. You’re not the same girl that you were two years ago. No, not even close. You’re taller, with broader shoulders and hips. While you were once slender due to malnutrition, you are now toned and muscled after two years of hard training. You felt vitality that you once never thought you’d feel coursing through your muscles. Your top, frayed at the hem, falls to just above your naval and drapes over one shoulder, leaving the other uncovered. Your s/c flesh is exposed to the waistband of your khaki shorts. The leather of your boots is soft and worn, the same pair you’d been wearing when you were launched away from your crew by Kuma. The holster dangling from your waist carried some of your throwing knives, which you twiddle absently at your side in nervousness. You had become adept at hand to hand combat since the crew saw you last. You are nimble, fast and lethal. You smirk and let the confidence roll over your body. You can’t wait to see how skilled everyone else had become.

You flex and stretch, standing up from the bench and begin your ascent up the stairs. They groan under your weight and you shift the bag on your shoulder, securing it more tightly against your body. You feel your heart beginning to race again at the thought of the final crew member. You can only imagine how strong he’d become.

Zoro.

You think of his green hair, and his white shirt, the top buttons always haphazardly undone. His slim black pants and boots, the sound of his earrings jangling in the sea breeze. You see his tight, intense gaze and that smirk that always weakened your knees. The knot in your stomach tangles more at the thought as you crest the top of the stairs. You recall the days that you sat in the Crow’s Nest together as he worked out. He never paid you much attention, but simply tolerating your presence in his sacred space made you feel important.

You feel the heat rise to your face and you can’t tell if it’s because of the sweltering sun of the Archipelago or the indecent thoughts that have begun to flood your mind. You take a deep breath as you nearly reach the doorway of Shakky’s place, when you stop in your tracks at the silhouette in the doorway. The sun is bright, so you can’t make out who it is right away, but as the figure takes a step, there’s no mistaking that green head of hair.

“Well,” You hear Shakky’s voice from inside the bar.

“Wow, I didn’t think you’d be the first,” You hear Rayleigh’s voice chime in.

The greenette stays silent for a moment and then replies, “Oh yeah? Nobody else has shown up.” He pauses. “Well damn, guess they got lost.”

You can hear the smirk in his voice. It’s unmistakable.

Before you can stop yourself, you call out to him. “Zoro!” You immediately flush, but you know this time it’s not from the heat.

You see Zoro stiffen at your voice, but he quickly turns around and meets your gaze with his own.

Christ…

You immediately notice that your eyes only meet one of his, a scar running from forehead to cheekbone on the left side of his face, his eye tightly shut. It makes him look even more ruggedly attractive, if at all possible, and you allow yourself to stare for a moment.  His jaw, still angular and chiseled, is formed into a lazy half-smirk. Your e/c eyes trail down from his jaw to his throat and his collarbone, a body part you became intimately familiar with when you’d spent long moments staring at it over the top of his unbuttoned shirt, wondering what it would be like to nuzzle your face into its contours.

A part you are not used to seeing so casually, was the rest of his broad chest, which is exposed under the deep green coat he was wearing, the trademark Mihawk scar that ran from shoulder to hip still proudly displayed. You are glad to see that his haramaki remained unchanged over the last two years along with the three swords he carries at his side. He shifts his weight to his left side and leans his forearm on the hilt of his swords.

“Y/n!” He replies with a broad grin of recognition. He jogs toward you, and you find yourself moving towards him too.

Zoro is stunned to see you. In all honesty, he is stunned to know that he’s the first to arrive in the first place. Although, he did leave several weeks prior. Just in case.

You are…so different. His eyes move across your body, and he coughs, a slight flush spreading across his cheeks. He grits his teeth frustratedly.

Shit…get it together. He thinks to himself.

“I can’t believe we’re the first ones here!” You say, before pausing. “Actually…how the hell are you the first one here??”

You laugh and he manages to chuckle too. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He jokes.

“Shakky and Raleigh inside?” You ask, jabbing your thumb towards the open door to the bar.

Zoro nods, rubbing a calloused hand at the nape of his neck. “Yep, they’re in there. Waiting like the old gossips they are.” He laughs quietly, shaking his head.

You can’t help but watch his arm move behind his head. His worn bandana is tied around his bicep over the top of his coat, and you can’t help but imagine how his tanned skin stretches over the muscle there. You realize, too late, that you had been silent for a beat too long.

“Y/n? You good?” He asks, raising a brow.

Your attention snaps back like a rubber band and you laugh nervously. “Hmm? Oh, yeah, sorry. Just can’t believe how long it’s been.” You say lamely.

You walk into the bar, Zoro trailing behind you and you greet Shakky and Rayleigh with a wide grin. Shakky compliments your new look, making you spin around as if to show off your outfit. You can’t help but feel confident and a surge of pride wells within you. She pours you a drink, having already poured one for Zoro, and invites you to sit down at a far booth. You sit next to Rayleigh, playfully bumping him and he wraps an arm around your shoulder. He gives you an affectionate squeeze as he tells you how pleased he is to see you guys again. Zoro takes a seat at the far corner of a booth. He props his feet up and takes a long drag of sake straight from the bottle. He’d already finished the drink that was poured, naturally, and stopped Shakky before she could pour him another. He asked for the bottle, shrugging and said that we should just “cut out the middleman.”

You regale the three others in your tales of the last two years. You speak about your Master, your training, the island you’d resided on, everything. Shakky gives updates too, about some of the rumors that had been floating around in the Strawhats’ absence, particularly about Luffy and Pirate Hunter Roronoa Zoro. Shakky, never one to be subtle, asks Zoro pointblank about what he’d been up to.

“Eh, not too much excitement,” He says vaguely. “The usual. Swords, drinking, naps.” Shakky rolls her eyes, unsatisfied, but you just laugh, knowing that he was not one to talk too much about himself.

After a long while, the four of you notice that the sun has begun to set. You are beginning to feel the drinks you’d consumed, your laughter a bit louder, your tongue a bit looser, your hair a bit wilder. The bar is illuminated in deep orange and red hues and you glance over at Zoro. Half of his face is cast in shadow, while the other half colored the same tint as the room. It looks almost as if he is on fire and you are mesmerized by him. He’s staring at you intently. You see beads of sweat along his hairline, and you notice that he has removed his outer coat.

“Damn Shakky,” He breathes, not breaking eye contact with you. “I don’t remember it being this hot two years ago.”

Shakky laughs. “Well, we’re going through a bit of a heatwave right now. It’s unusual for this time of year, but occasionally the weather currents bring a front in. It’s supposed to be like this for the next few days.”

His knees are propped up and he rests his forearms on top of them as he breaks your gaze and looks out the window. HIs profile is immaculate, and your eyes trace each feature–his straight nose, his angled jaw, and his full lips. Your lips subconsciously part, and it isn’t until you feel your tongue on them that you notice how you’re staring. Shakky, however, has noticed how the two of you have been trading stares at each other the entire evening. She smirks and stands with a yawn.

“Well Rayleigh,” She starts. “It seems likes it’s about time to close up shop for the evening. You good?”

Rayleigh looks confused at first, however, when Shakky gestures quickly to you and Roronoa, Rayleigh nods knowingly. He looks down at his nearly full drink and smiles. He tips his head back and swigs down the rest, placing the empty glass resolutely on the hard wood. “You know what, Shakky? You’re absolutely right. These old bones can’t drink like they used to. I’m headed down to my place at the docks. It’s cooler there anyway.” He stands up and bids the room farewell. The doorbell jingles behind him as he exits the bar.

You get the feeling that they’d been watching you and Zoro, and you feel embarrassed. But you don’t want to complain. You just hope that Zoro wouldn’t be ready to turn in yet either.

Shakky approaches Zoro and gives him a gentle kiss on the cheek. “Night, Roronoa. If you get lonely, my room is always open.” She winks at him, entertained by how he squirms at the unexpected contact.

“Uh, yeah, sure…” He mutters, flustered. Shakky laughs.

“Shit Roronoa, just relax. I’m only kidding.” She walks over to a door behind the bar, presumably that led to her sleeping quarters, and opens it. “Or am I?” She grins slyly.

This time, Zoro knows better. The greenette shakes his head with a chuckle. “Goodnight, Shakky.”

She, too, disappears. The door closes behind her with a soft click, and the two of you are left alone. The sun has finally set beneath the mangroves and the sound of crickets fills the room. Despite the sun having set, the room is humid and very warm.

You reach a slender hand up and wipe beads of condensation off the back of your neck with a nervous sigh. “You’re right, Zoro,” You say after a moment. “It is absolutely stifling in here.”

He hums in agreement and holds up the bottle of sake questioningly. You nod and he tosses the closed bottle to you. However, his toss is a little short and to the left. But you’re fast and you catch it without a problem, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Aim much?” You joke as you pour yourself another drink before tossing it back to him.

He catches it easily and smirks. “Well, just checking to see if all that training you were going on about actually paid off.” He takes a swig. “Seems like it did.”

You were unbelievable. Zoro marvels at your agility. He had been enthralled as you told your story of the last two years. He watched the way your eyes lit up in excitement at certain parts or when your tone shifted to something more sinister. This was the y/n he’d always known–vibrant, curious and powerful. Zoro has always admired your tenacity. It was something of himself that he saw in you. He admired your intelligence as well, and your quick wit. It had always been a little intimidating, but now you were a force. It overwhelmed the swordsman. And thrilled him in the same way a new enemy excited him, got his adrenaline pumping and his heart racing.

He watches as you take a sip of your drink. His gaze follows the long line of your neck down to your collarbone, which he finds himself lingering on for longer than what was appropriate between nakama. You had always been objectively attractive, but Zoro never really paid attention to things like that. But now, you made that impossible to ignore. He is very attracted to you, entranced by your confident aura that pours off of you like cool sake.

The alcohol warms your blood and before you know what you’re doing, you prop your elbow on the table and say, “Seems like your training paid off too. I mean, look at you. All extra-muscley and shit.”

Zoro’s eyes widen slightly before he laughs out loud. “Thank you? I think.”

The liquid courage you’ve consumed does little for your filter (or your shame) so you continue. “I remember when I used to hang out in the Crow’s nest while you worked out. You were strong then, obviously. But it’s different now. You seem…invincible.” You breathe.

Zoro takes a moment to consider. “Invincible, huh?” He chuckles. “Hardly.”

You scoff and roll your eyes, but don’t reply.

Zoro stands up, his coat remaining in his seat. Your eyes follow the contour of his chest and he notices you watching him. He loves knowing that you look at him the same way that he looks at you.

“Come on,” He says after a moment, holding out his free hand, the other still holding the bottle of sake.

You take it without thinking. “Where are we going?” His hand is rough and cool to the touch, despite the heat in the room. He’s never held your hand before now. His good eye lands on you with a smirk that turns the knot low in your stomach.

“Up,” He replies in a whisper.

You nod wordlessly and stand up, trailing behind him as he walks towards the back door of the bar. When you exit, you sigh happily when a cool breeze flows along your damp skin. He echoes the sentiment with a contented hum, and continues towards the side of the building where he finds a ladder.

“Ladies first,” He grins, gesturing for you to climb the ladder up to the roof of the bar.

You raise an eyebrow, but comply nonetheless. As you climb, you make sure to move your hips more exaggeratedly, knowing the view you were providing him.

He knows exactly what he’s doing, of course, and admires your ass as you climb the ladder. You really are something. He wants to do more than just hold your hand. He wants to trail his hands along your curves, feel your strong body against the planes of his chest. He wants to know what your lips taste like, what your h/c hair feels like entangled in his fingers. But he knows that he needs to take it slow for both of your sake. It’s been two years. A lot has changed, and you are still his nakama first and foremost. There’s nothing that he would sacrifice to keep that.

The ladder is taller than you think it is by looking at it and when you arrive at the top of the bar, you are surprised to find an expansive platform.

“Wow,” You look open-mouthed. “How’d you know this was up here?” You look to Zoro who hops up onto the platform.

He shrugs. “I didn’t. I just saw the ladder earlier and figured it would be worth exploring.”

He walks up behind you in all of his shirtless beauty and sits, his legs apart as he leans back on his forearms. You’re still standing, looking up at the vast mangroves all around you, the stars peeking through the tree-tops. He lets you admire the scenery because it gives him a few moments to admire you. He clears his throat to get your attention and pulls you down to him.

With a light gasp, you find yourself sitting between his legs, your back against his chest and his arms wrapped around you. You are blushing furiously now. He hums contentedly, moving to nuzzle your hair and inhale your clean scent.

“What are you doing?” You manage to croak out.

“Enjoying the company,” He murmurs into the side of your neck.

You feel his heart beating swiftly against your back as you lean into him with a deep sigh. Your brain wants to overcomplicate this.

What does this mean? What does he want? Does he feel the same way about me that I feel about him? Does he…you gulp. Does he…want me, the way that I want him?

He feels you stiffen. “Y/n, hey,” He says. “It’s okay. This doesn’t have to mean anything that we don’t want it to mean.”

It seems like mind-reading is on the roster of new super powers he’s acquired. You grumble internally.

He laughs, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear before he moves away. You whimper softly at the loss of contact, and turn to face him with a confused look. Though he did shift backwards, he didn’t move all that far away from you, so you’re surprised that you’re nearly face to face when you turn around.

He gently touches his thumb to your parted lips. “We’ve got time, y/n. I’m not going anywhere, and neither are you. So let’s just take the time and figure it out.” He smiles.

You feel your heart swell in your chest as you meet his intense stare. “Y-yeah, o-okay.” You stutter, still not quite believing that Roronoa Zoro has anything he wants to figure out with you. Your reverie is interrupted by Zoro’s gentle kiss. It’s a kiss that foreshadows what else could come of it, one that’s slow and burning and brimming with possibilities. He pulls away with a shudder.

“We’ve got time.” He says again, seeming to convince himself with the second iteration. “Besides,” He pulls back fully this time, taking in your lovely face before he smirks. “It’s too damn hot to be this close right now anyway.”

@laws-yellow-submarine​

WOW WOW WOW this is absolutely amazing, my darling!!!! I was totally enthralled the entire time and was really hoping it wouldn’t end any time soon! And you painted the scenes so beautifully, it felt like I was actually in the story!! All the characters are so well written and gah I didn’t think it was possible to fall more in love with Zoro but damnnn this story had me swooning for the swordsman 🥰

I really really enjoyed this and I’m honestly so glad you took part in this little challenge! Could I add this wonderful story to the masterlist? 💕

#one piece of summer #summer writing challenge #heat #roronoa zoro #zoro #zoro x reader #female reader #submission #deathlikesdeep-dish

[cornelthecursed]

The story behind the vampire

// Finally after weeks of putting it off, Cornel’s story is ‘revamped’ so to speak (see the pun hehehe) A lot was added and a lot was redacted, but it does not change the interaction you might have with the vampire gentleman. Don’t worry you didn’t loose all too much from his story if you didn’t read the previous version and I quite get that asking you to read around 1,7k words long background to my character might be a little more than usual, however, I would very much appreciate if you could at least give it a skim.

Without further ado - let’s dive into it:

🩸 Early childhood

Cornelius’ life started like any other - being born to parents that were well off, he never had to worry about not having anything to eat at the end of the day. He had not suspected that he might have been of supernatural origin at all. However, not everything is all nice and pleasant when you are born in the 1500s. Even if he had no idea about magics and vampires or other supernatural creatures, humans around them did. You see, his parents were not regular humans either - a mother who was a renowned vampiress and his father being the son of the Lightbringer himself, attracted unwanted attention.

The city was in uproar with accusing everyone of witchcraft and his parents were no exception. His mother had enough foresight to hide the poor child in the tool shed of their gardens when the inquisition came to get them. Cornelius stayed there for hours not knowing what was going on exactly, he had thought that bad people came to speak to his parents and so he had to hide (it was not the first time he had done so, an antichrist and a vampire marrying and actually creating an offspring isn’t exactly approved of), however, as the hours passed and his stomach grumbled with bigger intensity the longer he stayed there he slipped outside.

It didn’t take long to figure out that his parents were not home, nor their servants. Everyone was dragged off apparently and the boy did the next best thing. Grabbing a few pieces of food to eat at the moment he slipped into his bed. Being woken up early the next day by shouts of the guards to bag anything they saw for their taking Cornel used every wit he had at his disposal to hide and run away from his family home.

He realized pretty soon that he would have to scavenge for food to make due, going around town he begged where he could, nipping a bread or a grape from the odd basket put on the floor while they bantered for a better price. A first sneak peek into the life of crime for our little Cornelius. However it wasn’t long before a certain man found the boy stealing from him and decided to make him pay for the food by actually working for him - as an apprentice, since he had no children of his own. The man turned out to be the later famous man Leonardo da Vinci.

🩸 Adolescence

Gaining skills in woodworking and actually staying still (whenever muse struck his adoptive father to draw him) kept Cornel busy during his early years. Soon he was being sent out to make deals, or meet people in Leonardo’s stead when he had proven capable enough. He trained almost daily to keep his body well kept and he had a prospect in joining an order that went against the corruption that was going on in the city they lived in.

However, fate had a different plan for him. Around the age fourteen he had got very sick, to a point where he was bed ridden. No one knew what was happening to him, the doctor that was called had thought it was tuberculosis, since he was coughing up blood.

Turns out it was the year that changed his life completely. He had eventually, after weeks upon weeks of the lungs hurting and heart palpitations, turned into a creature of the night he had never heard of, with thirst that could not be satiated with normal means.

He could still feel his heartbeat, he could still breathe (even if the time he could spend underwater drastically prolonged), yet he looked different. His eyes changed from their previous blue color to red, whites exchanged for blackness that seemed to be unending, not to mention the fangs. He couldn’t go out during the day anymore either. And yet he had started researching (perhaps he had learned from his adoptive father or not), looking into anything supernatural he could get his hands on. Eventually he had found a witch who helped him with the sun dilemma, the constant voices in his head (turns out our boy is telepathic) and the weird object movement that happened around him (telekinetic powers as well). She even taught him a few glamour spells to cover up his real identity, which helped him to establish himself into the society once again.

🩸 Adulthood - until the WW I

The years went by and he trained with the assassins. He wasn't very skilled in hand-to-hand combat (and still has trouble with it) but he had been shaped into a skillful tracker, strategist and sniper/long range combatant. He used his powers to help the guild where he could, but more often than not he got captured by the enemy and tortured in many various ways, which left scars on his physical body. Surprisingly he coped with the mental scars pretty well.

Still as a young vampire, he fell in love with a beautiful mortal woman. He had created a bond with her on a spiritual level he had not known was possible (granted that was the result of his supernatural nature and them exchanging their blood accidentally), he was at first scared of the fact that they could feel each other’s emotions and had to come forth to his partner as not being completely human. Yet Emalia took it in stride and accepted him for what he was, which Cornel was eternally grateful for.Their wedding was the most joyous thing in his life, right after the birth of his daughter, Caitlin. Few months after that he picked on work yet again, this time he decided for a more docile one, since he had a family to take care of.

Yet as it was in life - when there are good things, bad ones are right behind the corner. One night when he had stayed longer in town working on a wooden piece for one of his clients his world turned upside down. He had found his family murdered in their own home, his heart breaking in half at the sight. Not to mention the chest ache from the bond breaking didn’t help any. 

After burying them and still stricken with grief he made it his personal mission to hunt down those that killed his immediate family, since that was the only one he had in this world. But oh, if it ended there. He found the two hunters of course, but the newfound bloodlust that dulled the pain he felt, the surge of power with the amount of blood he consumed….it didn’t end well for the city of Venice, near which he had lived. 

The bloodshed that he had caused took around five vampires to stop. Only when he was face down on the flagstones, tears running down his cheeks from the amount of pain he was feeling and seeing what he had caused made him sober up. That was the day he met his best friend Leoric - not without a nice little story to exchange between themselves now as they recalled the old days, the poor two thousand year old vampire of a viking had a scar to prove their first meeting made by none other than yours truly.

After that incident with Leoric keeping a close eye on the young pureblood, Cornelius had moved out of his home country, not being able to stay because of the memories and more importantly hunters that were hot on his tail. Few attempts were made at his life during his stay in Italy by the aforementioned group, scarring the otherwise perfect skin around his heart and a thin line across his throat.  Finding a  nice spot in the UK, a few hours away from London and near a small village Ibberton, Cornel started on building his dream home in the middle of a clearing. Not even realizing how but had built himself a sizable mansion.

🩸 Adulthood - WW I & after

The world wars rolled in. Cornel felt obliged to answer the call to arms and yet there was more imminent war than the one between the humans. His own race was warring against the werewolves all the while archduke was assassinated in Sarajevo. It was not a big battle, a skirmish at most a couple of hundred of kilometers away from his own home, yet Cornelius was not left unscathed. 

Up until that point he was making his fortune in tracking people and even killing them if the contract required it off him, however, after he returned home from the vampire-werewolf war he had to put that kind of job on hold. He prided himself on being a good strategist, on observing and using the information the best he could, yet it is completely different to do so on the battlefield. One second of not paying attention and he ended with a spear coated in werewolf’s blood through his left knee. 

Even after years or healing, of drinking antidote for months after the battle, he was left with a limp. Relieving him of duties towards the United Kingdom in the upcoming wars. With the time that suddenly appeared in his hands he started to seek different hobbies (not sure how tracking and killing people could be a hobby but to each their own). Leoric, who was always somewhere around his old time friend suggested to take up cooking, since he himself was baking and found enjoyment in it. Few tries later and the vampire sacrificed sleep in attempt to perfect his skills in the kitchen.

By the end of the twentieth century, he was a skilled chef that would give Gordon a run for his money and since there really was no better time than to start his own business than after the world wars he did that. Funding the rent of a place in Ibberton, he founded Assaggia la Storia, an Italian restaurant keeping true to his family roots.

Granted there are many stories and little tidbits that occurred in vampire’s life - be it how other vampires flocked to him or how he actually managed to lay claim to his family heirloom back in Italy. Yet these are the ones that marked his life the most, making an impact on how he is now. The rest are for you to discover through mutual interaction.

Updated: 18th August 2021

#//bio #//the story behind the vampire

[medicifm]

*  not  me  actually  writing  an  intro  the  night  before  like  i  always  mean  to  😳  hennyway  hey  biddies  ,  i'm  chloe  ,  im  in  the  snowy  part  of  pst  ,  &  i  use  she / her  pns  .  i’ve  been  . . . . . . .  scouring  the  tags  for  an  rp  like  this  so  im  so  excited  to  bring  this  newish  muse  of  mine  here  !   im  here to  do  the  honours  of  introducing  my  himbo - on - the outside , manipulative - shit - on - the - inside  . . .  oscar  🤡

(  twenty  three , cis  man , he / him  ) ✉ ― hey  babes , have  you  met  OSCAR  MEDICI ?  they’re  working  here  as  THE  HEAD  CHEF  AT  LORENZO’S ,  a  few  villas  down  from  where  you’re  staying  .  you  might  hear  them  singing  ALRIGHTY  APHRODITE  BY  PEACH  PIT  playing  from  their  villa  ,  it’s  their  favourite  song  .  yes  ,  they  hear  that  they  look  like  JACK  GILINSKY  a  lot  ,  actually  -  it’s  really  uncanny  .  their  friends  back  home  in  SYDNEY , AUSTRALIA  say  that  if  they  were  on  a  tv  show  ,  their  trope  would  be  THE  WOLF  IN  SHEEP’S  CLOTHING  ,  how  funny  is  that  ? ✎ chloe , 22 , she/her , pst

𝐢  .

pinterest  |  wanted  plots  |  

𝐢𝐢  .

name  :  oscar  gabriel  medici

age  :  twenty  three

dob  /  sign  :  december  4th  ,  1997  /  sagittarius  sun  ,  leo  moon  ,  libra  rising 

pob  :  sydney , australia

gender / pronouns  :  cis  man  &  he / him / his

career :  head  chef  at  lorenzo’s  ,  full - time  heathen  ,  professional  disappointment  for  mothers  everywhere  .

drinking / drugs / smoking :  yes / more  often  than  he’d  admit / never .  

religion  :  jewish  background  ,  currently  non - practicing .

physical  :  jack  gilinsky  fc ,  dark  brown / black  longish  curls  (  reference  )  ,  dark  brown  eyes  ,  canon  jack  g’s  tattoos  ,  no  piercings  ,  6′2″  ,  175  lbs  ,  lean  but  strong  .  tattoos  a  la  canon!jack  ,  pearly  white  smile  that  he  may  . . .  or  may  not  . . .   use  crest  3D  white  strips  weekly  to  maintain  .  lots  of  burns  &  scars  from  kitchen  mishaps  on  his  hands  &  arms  .

traits  :  hard - working  ,  flighty  ,  intelligent  ,  hedonistic  ,  charismatic  ,  intense  ,  volatile  ,  

other  :  speaks  weird  french  (  aussie  accent  tings  )  ,  tans  easily  but  wears  sunscreen  nonetheless  ,  works  hard  parties  harder  ,  can’t  read  a  lick  of  french  but  spends  a  lot  of  his  free  time  with  a  coffee  &  a  new  paperback  ,  has  a  bit  of  an  internal  vendetta  against  rich  people  (  for  no  real  reason  ,  he  just  doesn’t  like  most  of  them  )  ,  has  ins  with  a  bunch  the  local  farmers  &  visits  them  weekly  ,  pretends  he  isn’t  lowkey  addicted  to  nicotine  administered  via  a  puff  bar  ,  liquor  of  preference  is  tequila  or  red  wine  ,  drives  a  lil  vespa  around  town  for  the  gag  of  it  (  loves  seeing  it  haphazardly  parked  amongst  a  bunch  of  luxury  cars  )  ,  

character  inspo  :  jess  mariano  (  gilmore  girls  )  , gordon  ramsey  🤡 ,  patrick verona ( 10 things i hate about you ) , ferris bueller ( ferris bueller’s day off ) , han solo ( star wars ) .

𝐢𝐢𝐢  .

oscar’s  arrival  was  as  unwanted  to  his  parents  as  could  be  :  a  father  whose  tendencies  leaned  towards  alcoholism  &  abusing  whoever  was  in  arms  reach  ,  a  mother  whose  life  was  more  or  less  spent  at  the  nursing  home  she  worked  as  a  nurse  at  ,  evading  home  .  he  became  a  self - inflicted  loner  ,  preferring  to  do  literally  the  exact  opposite  of  what  was  expected  or  wanted  from  him  .  he  had  a  few  friends  he  ran  with  ,  but  watching  them  all  go  off  &  study  or  prepare  for  university  solidified  in  oscar’s  mind  that  the  non - traditional  route  was  for  him  .  growing  up  by  the  water  ,  oscar  always  felt  more  drawn  to  skip  school  &  head  to  the  beach  than  he  did  obeying  his  parents  wishes  .   

one  of  his  solaces  was  his  grandfather  ,  gabriel  ,  who  owned  an  italian  restaurant  in  a  beach  town  north  of  sydney  .  whenever  the  weather  was bad  &  oscar  felt  like  ditching  class  ,  he’d  head  over  to  his  nono’s  restaurant  where  his  ass  would  be  put  to  work  as  soon  as  he  set  eyes  on  the  restaurant  .  it  was  tough  work  ,  but  challenging  in  a  way  that  fanned  the  flames  in  oscar’s  heart  ,  rather  than  dimming  them  .  by  the  time  he was  a  teenager  he  was  working  in  the  restaurant  everyday  after  school  , an  agreement  between  him  &  his  grandfather  framed  on  the  back  wall  that  stated  that  as  long  as  oscar  kept  from  flunking  out  ,  he  was  allowed  to  spend  as  little  or  as  much  time  in  the  kitchen  as  he  pleased .  

his  absolute  defiance  of  anything  traditional  &  following  the  rules  made  him  unpopular  with  adults  ,  but  lowkey  cool  with  the  girls  .  by  the  time  he  was  sixteen  ,  he  was  losing  his  focus  on  the  restaurant  &  his  grades  &  spending  more  &  more  time  chasing  after  girls  .  his  nono  tried  to  get oscar  to  come  back  &  focus  ,  but  as  always  ,  anything  he’s  asked  to  do  quickly  becomes  the  thing  he’s  running  from  the  most  .

tw  :  death  ,  cancer  .  around  his  eighteenth  birthday  ,  his  grandfather  suddenly  fell  ill  with  a  rare  form  of  cancer  that  took  his  life  six  weeks  after  diagnosis  ,  which  rocked  oscar’s  world  .  he  felt  overwhelming  guilt  that  he  hadn’t  spent  more  time  with  his  grandfather  ,  which  manifested  itself  as  oscar  dropping  out  of  school  a  year  shy  of  graduation  to  commit  himself  fully  to  perfecting  his  grandfather’s  techniques  ,  learning  all  of  his  recipes  (  read  :  pouring  over  dozens  of  handwritten  cookbooks )  in  some  failed  attempt  to  get  back  some  time  with  him  .  oscar  hadn’t  been  close  with  his  parents  in  years  ,  more  or  less  seeing  them  as  wardens  of  a  prison  he  wanted  nothing  to  do  with  .  his  grandfather’s  will  left  him  the  deed  to  the  restaurant  ,  with  an  ask  that  oscar  would  promise  to  act  on  whatever  he  felt  called  towards  ,  rather  than  doing  what  others  expected  of  him  .  to  be  candid  ,  this  whole  situation  crushed  him  .

eventually  ,  he  decided  he’d  had  enough  of  the  stifling  community  he’d  grown  up  in  .  he  sold  the  restaurant  to  one  of  the  regulars  ,  a  wealthy  man  who  he’d  come  to  acknowledge  as  somewhat  of  an  uncle  ;  a  safe  pair  of  hands  who  would  treat  his grandfather’s  legacy  with  as  much  passion  &  respect  as  oscar  himself  would  .  so  he  packed  a  bag  ,  texted  his  mom  that  he  was  going  traveling  ,  &  got  on  a  flight  that  evening  .  he  traveled  all  around  -  first  through  central  america  ,  then  through  europe  ,  throughout  asia  &  africa  ,  &  spent  a  few  months  driving  a  van  across  the  continental  united  states  &  canada  for  fun  . 

eventually  ,  he  started  getting  low - ish  on  money  ,  &  decided  to  settle  in  one  of  his  favourite  places  he’d  visited  :  southern  france  .  he  arrived  in  early  2018  ,  taking  on  whatever  menial  tasks  he  could  while  learning  french  until  he  got  a  position  as  a  line  cook  in  an  italian  restaurant  .  a  few  years  later  ,  he’s  made  his  way  up  to  filling  the  head  chef  position  ,  an  honour  he  takes  with  pride  .  he’s  implemented  many  of  his  own  recipes  while  using  flavours  he’s  learned  from  his  travels  ,  with  ingredients  straight  from  local  farmers  .  he’s  earned  the  restaurant  a  two michelin  star  rating  ,  &  is  constantly  striving  for  more  to  get  that  last  star  (  both  for  his  own  ego  as  well  as  a  secret  debt  to  his  grandfather  )  .

𝐢𝐯  .

ok  but  that  vid  where  gordon  puts  two  pieces  of  bread  on  someone’s  head  &  calls  them  an  idiot  sandwich  ?  that’s  oscar  .  intense  as  fuck  in  the  kitchen  ,  &  best  nobody  catch  an  attitude  about  it  bc  he  will  not  hesitate  to  hand  them  their  ass  on  a  silver  platter  .

another  gordon  reference  :  you  know  how  he’s  the  spawn  of  satan with  adults  ,  but  the  sweetest  ,  most  helpul  guy  with  children  ?  that’s  oscar  with  his  staff  vs  people  he  wants  something  from  .  whether  its  to  sleep  with  them  (  usually  his  first  instinct  to  be  fair  )  ,  their  money  or  clout  ,  or  to  get  into  some  wild  adventure  some  random  resort  staff  wouldn’t  dream  of  getting  into  ,  he  can  turn  on  the  charm  whenever  needed  .

can  go  from  absolutely  demoralizing  someone  in  the  kitchen  to  stepping  out  into  the  lounge  to  schmooze  with  his  friends  or  cougars  who  leave  phat  tips  in  0.2  seconds  .  the  speed  at  which  his  mood  can  completely  180  is  one  of  the  seven  world  wonders  (  last  i  checked  )  .

his  love  language  is  absolutely  acts  of  service  .  catch  him  actually  falling  in  love  once  in  a  blue  moon  &  making  it  his  mission  to  cook  her  extravagant  meals  everyday  .  

the  wolf  in  sheep’s  clothing  label  epitomizes  his  nice  ,  helpful  ,  charismatic  exterior  ,  while  ulterior  motives  &  disdain  for  those  who  grew  up  with  more  money  than  he  did  lurk  beneath  the  surface  . 

he  can  be  MEAN  when  someone  fucks  him  over  or  pushes  him  farther  than  he  wants  -  isn’t  afraid  to  go  for  the  low  blows  or  send  someone  home  with  an  identity  crisis  if  it  protects  himself  .

lowkey  alcoholic  but  he’s  not  ready  for  that  conversation  yet  .  he  sees  it  more  as  perks  of  the  location  &  atmosphere  he’s  found  himself  in  .

also  lowkey  falls  in  love  HARD  ,  like  this  man  is  a  closeted  romantic  but  self - sabotages  all  potential  relationships  before  they  can  get  to  that  point  out  of  fear  he’ll  be  unable  to  live  life  of  his  own  volition  (  takes  a  flaky  philophobic  sagittarius  to  know  a  flaky  philophobic  sagittarius  🤡  )  .  has  probably  only  had  a  few  real  relationships  besides  flings  bc  he’s  afraid  .

𝐯  .

check  out  my  wanted  plots  tag  listed  here  ,  as  well  as  my  pinterest  wanted  plots  board  here  .  here   are  some  other  suggestions  hehe  :

best  friend  /  ride  or  die  :  someone  who  knows  about  his  past  ,  keeps  him  grounded  when  he’s  lk  spiraling  &  wants  to  drop  everything  &  flee  to  some  far  flung  corner  of  the  earth  .

actual  relationship  :  it  was  fast - burn  with  deep  feelings  (  not  them  thinking  they’re  soulmates  after  dating  for  a  month  . . .  pete  &  ariana  type  beat  )  but  completely  unrealistic  .  they  have  their  own  life  ,  he’s  pretty  much  tied  to  the  restaurant  ,  not  to  mention  his  lack  of  sharing  anything  about  his  childhood / life  back  home  .  they  loved  &  cared  for  each  other  ,  but  crashed  &  burned  fairly  quickly  because  of  how  idealistic  it  was  .  they  can  either  be  on  bad  or  good  terms  now  .

hateship  with  sexual  tension  😈

summer  flings  !!

fake  boyfriend  :  he  shows  up  on  her  arm  to  her  family’s  events  where  she’s  expected  to  have  a  partner  .  it’s  not  a  real  relationship  ,  but  her  parents  don’t  need  to  know  that  .  he  plays  the  part  &  satisfies  her  parents  beyond  the  bare  minimum  ,  &  in  return  she  invites  him  to  parties  ,  takes  him  out  on  her  family’s  yacht  ,  etc  etc  .  we  luv  some  symbiosis  

i  can  always  use  more  fwbs  hehehe

squad  :  a  group  of  people  who  do  everything  together  ,  have  a  chaotic  group  chat  ,  have  nicknames  for  one  another  ,  are  utd  on  each  other’s  sex  lives  ,  party  all  night  then  show  up  to  brunch  hungover  together  .  

cat  &  mouse  :  someone  he’s  pursuing  who  isn’t  quite  giving  in  ,  &  vice  versa  .  maybe  it’s  been  going  on  a  few  years  ,  everytime  they’re  in  st  tropez  they  have  this  weird  lil  flirtationship  thing  goin  on  until  she  leaves  ,  they  forget  about  one  another  ,  then  pick  it  right  back  up  when  she  returns  .

confidant  :  preferably  someone  from  a  working  class  background  who  understands  his  plight  of  being  a  worker  amongst  people  who  expect  to  be  waited  on  .

enemies  :  they  don’t  like  his  attitude  ,  &  he  doesn’t  like  them  in  return  .  lots  of  eye  rolls  ,  shit  talking  ,  &  tension  between  their  mutual  friends  .

we’re  sleeping  together  but  we  shouldn’t  be  but  that’s  half  the  fun :  for  whatever  reason  they  became  friends  ,  starting  hooking  up  despite  it  not  being  a  good  idea  (  read  :  he’s  exes  with  one  of  her  friends  ,  her  parents  want  her  focused  on  career  ,  they’re  part  of  the  same  friend  group  ,  etc )  . . . but  now  they  can’t  stop  .  lots  of  stolen  glances  across  rooms  ,  squeezing  past  one  another  in  a  crowded  club  just  close  enough  for  a  quick  touch  to  the  back  ,  quietly  leaving  one  another’s  places  the  morning  after  &  playing  dumb  to  anyone  who  asks  . 

#villasintro #eeeek im hyped !!

[moccahobi]

Written in The Stars [Hoseok x Reader]

Warnings: Cuss words

Summery:  Hoseok had always been big on supporting his friends. Thus it came as no surprise that he ended up spending his free time at Namjoon's latest buiseness venture: a little dessert cafe. He didn't expect to fall for the cute barista who always worked when he was there though the.

Word count: 7k words

Genre: Slice of life au; Cafe au

Author’s Note: Thank you so much to @kyub for making the banner and @heyitsmeee2, @jung-hoseok-s-airplane, @jiminful, and @elenasgotyourback​ for betaing. This fic took so much out of me! I had one idea than the next and the main time I had to write this was during school. Oof! I am glad I did it though! Big shutout to @bangtanscenery​ for orchestrating and creating this project! It was soo fun!

Hoseok sighed from where he was seated in the all too cliche cafe. Namjoon had just opened it up so Hoseok was trying to fulfill his role as a supportive friend by eating there, but it just wasn’t a place he was into. The place was beautiful. He could tell Namjoon and his business partner had quite the eye for design. The wall behind the register was painted in chalk and the menu was written in large swirling letters across it. They had picked a light and natural wood tone for the tables and booths that complimented the dark grey of the metal chairs which were all  all seats upholstered with a rich navy blue and embezzled with glittering gold rebites keeping the cushions to the furniture. It was an ethereal kind of look that undoubtedly drew in the crowds. 

Looking around, Hoseok’s eyes landed on a large astrology chart sprawled out on the back wall, similar in handwriting to the menu, painting a story with the chart. He only noticed it because Namjoon had a passion for astrology and he would often gush about it to Hoseok who would listen to almost all the times that they met up. To top it off, the ceiling was painted in an all consuming shade of black, mimicking a galaxy with its streaks of white, here and there, which glimmered like actual stars (although Hoseok could admit that the ceiling was almost a piece of art). Aside from the heavy reliance on a theme, it was a dessert cafe. Hoseok liked sweets. Namjoon loved sweets apparently. Almost every food was doused in sugar and it was almost overwhelming just how sweet it all was. They all sounded amazing and cavity inducing (especially the french toast and ice cream combo), and Hoseok was tempted to try them, but he couldn’t handle all that sugar in one sitting. He’d need someone to help and he didn’t have someone to help him today. The only thing Hoseok could handle was the Black Hole coffee (americano with a little sugar) and a Galaxy bagel (it was just a plain bagel with some sugary cream cheese). Hoseok felt a little more like Yoongi, the resident grump of his friends, sitting in the cafe with such… unsweetened foods. 

Of course Namjoon’s cafe had some savory food and Hoseok wanted to try them some other time, maybe with Yoongi.The main thing Namjoon sold was dessert though, and to support Namjoon, Hoseok had to have one of the desserts. 

What wasn’t a shock about Namjoon’s cafe was that he co-owned and ran it with someone else. Hoseok didn’t know who it was yet, Namjoon having not told him yet but from what Hoseok knew of the current set up, they were manning the counter with two baristas. From what Namjoon had said about his business partner, they were much more focused on what they were serving as well as the astrology side of the cafe work than any of the real business. It gave Namjoon exactly what he wanted: the business side of things and a partner to share the possible debt. Hoseok had finally managed to visit today, their fifth day open and if he had to list the things that he did like,  he’d have to start with the ceiling and then mention one of the baristas:

They took his breath away the second he entered the store. They smiled broadly and greated Hoseok and for a second, he forgot that he was at a local cafe and not a family run restaurant back in Gwangju. The world slowed as he looked at them and all Hoseok could think about was the warm feeling of returning to his mom’s friend’s restaurant after his post-school program and eating kimchi and rice. 

The trance was broken the second she turned to take someone’s order and Hoseok slowly came back to reality. He wasn’t in Gwangju but he was about to have a wonderful meal in a shop owned by a friend. 

Hoseok had only been in the cafe for half an hour and he could already say that he was starting to develop a small crush on the barista. He didn’t mean to and he didn’t dare think about actually asking her out… it just happened. She was a pretty woman doing her job and Hoseok was an attention starved small business owner who was entranced by her caring attitude. Hoseok was stressed and tired. Plus, he was finally feeling better after his last relationship. There wasn’t this constant longing nestled deep inside him at the thought of the end of his last relationship anymore, and he might finally be at a point where dating was ok to do again.

That is what he brushed it off as. 

Hoseok didn’t want to think of the alternative. He just got out of a relationship a month ago and was still recovering even if he felt like he might be better now. Sure it might have been a mutual agreement based on his best interests and their best interest, but that didn’t make it any harder. Hoseok still missed the nights when they would spend the night in their apartment and snuggle close while watching cheesy shows or when they’d force him to stop working on pottery for a day and instead grab food at one of the food trucks. He missed the companionship but by now, he didn’t know if he missed them.

He might.

There wasn’t a real way to always tell though. The two went everywhere together. Every place that Hoseok went to now conjured memories that danced and pranced around in his mind. This cafe would be different though. There were no ghost memories dancing around. It was new and he could work effectively and happily. 

At some point while Hoseok was finishing his food, Namjoon came over and joined him. The two had barely had more than a handful of conversations since graduating college, both too busy to make time for the other as small business owners (well this was Namjoon’s second business venture, the other supplying him a good source of money to fund him and the cafe). That was how life was sadly but with this cafe open so close to where Hoseok lived and worked that now they might have a chance of having long and winded conversations again.

“Do you remember watching stars on our old apartment’s rooftop?” Namjoon asked at one point, a soft and content smile on his face

“Somewhat. They were nice. Cold, but nice.” Hoseok lied while taking a long sip of his coffee.

Namjoon had always loved the night sky, so much so that he would drag Hoseok out three times a week just to look at the sky. The man could name every constellation and phase of the moon off the top of his head. It was an amazing skill. Hoseok didn’t have that same passion though. Sure, the night sky was nice, awe inspiring at times, but most nights Hoseok would return from work exhausted and all he wanted to do was go to sleep. Those nights when Namjoon and Hoseok would go onto the roof and look at the sky were mostly filled with Hoseok drifting off in the cold. 

Hoseok did it though and Hoseok would do it again in a heartbeat because it made Namjoon happy. 

Namjoon smiled broadly, “That was kinda the inspiration for the cafe’s decorations! My co-owner, Y/n-ssi, really likes astrology so she added some of the more… magical elements.” 

Hoseok chuckled and looked around with a small smile growing on his face as well,“I am glad you enjoyed those nights so much. Do you still make time to go out and look at the stars?” Hoseok asked before taking a long sip of his coffee.

“No.” Namjoon snorted, his smile much larger now, “I am a working man. I barely have time to eat, sleep, and breath. Let alone gaze up at the stars.” 

“You should make time, Namjoon-ah. It isn’t healthy to work all the time.” Hoseok chastised, taking special care now to scrutinize Namjoon’s face.

He looked very similar to the young twenty year old Hoseok once knew but there was more evidence now of stress and wear-and-tear. Frown lines and bags etched in his face. When was the last time Namjoon took a break from all his work? Hoseok didn’t know the answer. He did know though that he was no better than Namjoon. This was his first real break in a week or two.

“You sound like Minjae.” Namjoon laughed.

Hoseok winced instead, “Sometimes we need someone to look after us, Namjoon-ah.”

“I am sorry, man. I didn’t mean to-”

“It is ok, dude. I am over her.” Hoseok said, carefully watching Namjoon process what Hoseok said.

He still looked stressed, his frown lines growing as he looked at the table instead of Hoseok. Namjoon had set up Minjae and Hoseok and his pride was undoubtedly wounded when the two decided to end it. Namjoon also barely had time to check in with the two so his own memory was probably a little foggy.

“ Anyways, we should try to go camping sometime… or go to some sort of museum for stars. Bet we could stay there for five hours before they’d kick us out.” Hoseok proposed, watching as Namjoon smiled, his frown lines becoming ghosts as he looked back up at Hoseok again as the previous stress left him. 

Namjoon snorted in laughter, “I would love to look at the stars with you again, if that is what you’re asking.” 

His eyes lit up as he started to speak animatedly, “And we can make s’mores and grill some beef. Oh my god! I haven’t had beef in sooo long. It would be so good!”

“I think we would have to go camping to do that, Namjoon-ah. I don’t know if a museum will allow us to start a fire and cook stuff there.” Hoseok laughed.

“Well then, looks like we will be going camping.” 

“Yeah. Looks like we will have to plan that soon.”

A comfortable silence filled the two as they looked out at the bustling cafe, nothing left to talk about. They were both running their own stores, Hoseok had his pottery shop and Namjoon had the bookshop and now this cafe. The two did the same work just in a different setting and neither felt the need to talk about it. Shortly after their conversation died down, Namjoon had to go back to work. He mainly worked in the backroom but there was almost more work to be done.. Hoseok didn’t mind. He understood the struggle. Namjoon leaving actually left Hoseok excited as he could finally start reading the latest book he grabbed from the library. Giddily, he tapped his feet against the floor and quickly pulled the book out of his bag and started to read. The soft and sure feeling of the hardback book grounded him as he started to be carried away by the words. Distantly, he registered people moving around him as life carried on but he didn’t care one bit. The tension rose in the story the further he read and soon enough he found himself tightly gripping the book as more and more problems arose. Time passed at an unknown rate to Hoseok as someone new sat near him or left or readjusted. He barely noticed any and all changes that happened around him, too absorbed in the world he held in his hands (which he was somehow only a third of the way through). That was until he noticed someone sit across him at his table. They said something that he didn’t quite hear or understand and he quickly tried to get to a stopping point so converse with whoever it was (probably Namjoon back to bother him more).He looked up in shock to see the cute barista from earlier, smiling and taking a bite of her sandwich. You were the last person Hoseok expected to see sitting with him. Maybe an old friend and very possibly Namjoon, but you? A cute barista he barely said one word to? Nope. 

You blushed and started to speak, a hand covering her mouth to hide the food you were eating, “I hope you don’t mind me joining you for my lunch. I noticed you talking to Namjoon-ssi earlier and you’re reading one of my favorite books and I thought that it could be cool to meet and talk to you. I am Y/n by the way.” She smiled brightly and nodded lightly at Hoseok.

Hoseok laughed quietly and blushed himself before nodding with a smile, “I am Hoseok. Why is it your favorite book? Oh! And no spoilers! I just started the second part.” 

“Ah! A bunch of good stuff is about to happen! I am warning you!” You laughed before taking a sip of your drink. 

As you did so, Hoseok looked at what you brought with you, namely your lunch box. Hoseok knew that Namjoon built into the budget a small meal for each of the workers during their shift and it struck Hoseok as endearing that you brought your own food instead of eating the sugary sweets offered in the cafe. It was smart too. The sweets probably wouldn’t be the healthiest to eat daily and you could eat more if you packed your own food. 

“I really enjoyed the story. It just… it traps you and doesn’t let you go. The author is really good about that in general with her works. I have read some of her other works and they’re so good!” You said, your eyes glued on the book splayed on the table and not Hoseok.

“I am learning that now.” Hoseok laughed, “This is my first time reading one of her works and I definitely want to read more of her stuff. I specifically enjoy how she is associating certain aspects of her world with different textures and feelings. ”

You nodded excitedly as Hoseok kept talking, your cheeks full of food as you ate. His heart fluttered endearingly as he watched you eat and talk about the book, your eyes wide and cheeks flushed with excitement. Time was moving almost as quickly as when he read the book and he enjoyed it. There was something fun about talking about a book with someone. He hadn’t done it since high school (Minjae was always more of a movie or show person and he did other things with other people). Until now, reading had been an  activity he’d done alone. He found himself smiling and laughing more with you than he had in awhile. Maybe there was something fun about talking about books with others that Hoseok had been ignoring until now.

Maybe there was something magical about you. 

Maybe it was how your eyes drew him in and kept him there. He didn’t fully know. 

The fun didn’t last too long though. You came to talk during your lunch break and lunch breaks were short. It didn’t help that as they talked more and more, he started getting inspiration on some new pottery and he knew that he would need to start working on them soon or he might lose the idea (that or he’ll lose the inspiration).. Just to be safe, he excused himself after you finished eating your sandwich and made his way to his shop. He tried to ignore the image of you nodding and smiling sadly as he left that bounced around in his head but it was heard. You simply looked so adorable and he wish that he didn’t have to leave.

In fact, he thought about how he left Namjoon’s cafe in a rush  many times over the following week. Regret stewed inside him the more time he dwelled on it and didn’t return to the cafe. He should have risked the idea for talking with you (his new creation barely sold so it probably wasn’t worth losing a conversation). He should have stayed longer. He should have asked you for your number. Then maybe he might have been able to ask you out to meet up (and maybe call it a date). Plus, if he had gotten your number then he might have had enough courage to reenter the shop instead of standing outside of the shop like an absolute buffoon every time he passed it. Like he was currently doing right now.  Inside the shop, people were bustling around. A group of children had gathered there after school and were drinking some sort of milkshakes. People were simply sitting there and working. Friends were meeting up. You were working away behind the counter.

He was standing outside like a loser.

He wished that he had the gall to go in and order something (as well as as for your number) but all he could do was watch you flutter around behind the counter as you worked hard, his own heart fluttering and stuttering as he watched you work. Why was he chickening out? He didn’t have this issue when he officially asked Minjae out but with you Hoseok could barely manage to gather up courage to ask for your number. Maybe he wasn’t actually ready for a new relationship. 

But he couldn’t stop thinking about possibly having one with you. Hoseok was so confused. Friends could ask for numbers too. It wasn’t inherently a romantic action. Hoseok liked the idea of it being a somewhat romantic action. 

He didn’t have the courage to go in today sadly. Hoseok didn’t know when he would have the courage to.

With a disheartened sigh that seemed to cling in the air around him, Hoseok turned around and sat at the bench in front of the cafe. It overlooked streets that were surprisingly empty save for a bus or two. He watched as a couple walked hand in hand on the sidewalk across the street, dopey smiles on their face as they looked at each other. 

A pang of jealousy bubbled up in his stomach as he stared at them. The two looked so happy and content. He wanted that. He wanted that with someone who wanted similar things out of a relationship (unlike Minjae).  Hoseok could be the man across the street holding hands with a romantic partner if he just asked someone out.  

“Crazy seeing you here, Hoseok-ssi.” Your voice shocked Hoseok out of his thoughts, making him jump and turn around to face you. 

Your hair was frizzy from a long day of work but your eyes shone brightly, almost saying that you enjoyed every minute of the hard work you did. Hoseok understood that drive. Your navy blue apron complimented what you were wearing underneath too, over all you looked undeniably cute. You took Hoseok’s breath away. Even if you had coffee stains and looked like death, you would have taken Hoseok's breath away.

“Y-y-yeah! I… Uhhh… I was enjoying the view.” Hoseok managed to stutter out, turning red as he kept stuttering.

“Oh really? Street views are nice… Yet, I had hoped that you might have been thinking about coming into the cafe. Guess I was wrong.” You laughed, sitting next to Hoseok on the bench and taking out your lunch box, this time a dinner tucked neatly into it. 

Hoseok spent a few seconds to look at the tattered lunch box. You must have had it for a while as there were scratches and dents on it that only came with time and repetitive use.

“I-I… well… I might have been thinking about going inside.” 

“And what made you decide to not go inside? Did you want an actual dinner?” You laughed before putting some of your food into your mouth.

“Oh… Uh… no… I just… decided not to. Nothing against the cafe.”

“Ok. And how is the book going?”

“Uhh… It is going decent.”

Hoseok was kicking himself. Just a minute ago he was fantasizing about going on a date with you and thinking about how cute you were and now he could barely finish a sentence! How was he supposed to even possibly ask you out when he couldn’t even get out more than a four word sentence and you were carrying most of the conversation? 

He was handsome, damn it! 

He was a catch! Yet here he was getting flustered by a barista… what has he come to.

You weren’t just any barista though… You were a cute and interesting barista who liked similar books to him.

“Why’d you decide to come outside and eat instead of eating inside?” Hoseok finally asked, trying to push his nerves aside. 

“Oh! Well… It’s hot and stuffy. Plus, you’re here. That helps.” You said quietly and from the corner of Hoseok’s eye he noticed you blush as you gently brushed your shoulder against his. 

A fluttering in Hoseok’s heart made his response get stuck in his throat. What was that supposed to mean? Was she interested in him too? How was he supposed to interpret that?

He cleared his throat and spoke, “Yeah… You’re pretty cool too, I guess.” 

What?

What is all he could say?

How lame!

“I mean, I think you’re cool. I just don’t know you much yet and don’t want to say something that might possibly be wrong… I don’t think you might not be cool though! I just-”

Your laugh interrupted Hoseok and struck him into silence. It was a melodious laugh that he could listen to for hours on end and never get bored. 

“I am glad you think I am cool, Hoseok-ssi.” You said, turning towards Hoseok with a broad smile.

Hoseok’s heart was beating wildly now. Its erratic heartbeats weren’t ideal earlier when you were simply sitting next to him but now? How was he even supposed to focus with you staring at him intently? Especially with your lips looking like the perfect place for his own lips.

Unintentionally, Hoseok started to lean towards you.

They really did look wonderfully soft. 

What was he thinking about?

You were practically a stranger! Even worse: you were Namjoon’s employee! For all he knew you were trying to use Hoseok to get a better pay.

But Namjoon paid his employees well… and most didn’t have tons of room to grow with the work as it was a small cafe. 

“I enjoy your company too, Y/n-ssi.” Hoseok said with a cough as he turned to face the street again. 

All of the sudden he was very focused on how hot he was feeling. It wasn’t summer but the heat was… present. He was probably blushing and sweating from the heat. Nothing else.

“Even if we have a conversation like this? Where we’re both awkward?” You asked with a strained laugh, leaning into Hoseok.

You had stopped eating.

“Uhh… y-y-yeah. I am having fun. Even if it doesn’t seem like I am.” 

“So… would you enjoy my company if we… went on a date, Hoseok-ssi?” You asked slowly, your voice devoid of all laughter.

“Oh. I. Yeah! Totally.” Hoseok’s voice cracked and he leaned back and coughed to try to cover it up, “I mean… It’d be cool, I guess. Yeah. That would be nice.” 

You giggled, “Wonderful. How does… Tomorrow at seven in the evening sound? We can meet up here and then go somewhere close by.” 

That was so soon.

He could make it though.

“Yeah. That works.” Hoseok nodded, trying to ignore the incessant vibrations from his phone that was sitting in his pocket.

“Are you going to take that, Hoseok-ssi?” You asked with a small giggle, already going back to eating your food.

“Oh. Yeah.” 

He quickly grabbed his phone and looked at who was calling. It was Jisoo, one of his employees.

“Hey… boss. I am sorry but uhh… I can’t make it to my shift. I have been vomiting nonstop. I think I have food poisoning. I am about to go to the hospital. I tried asking Jinyoung but apparently he is currently working and can’t do any more overtime. I am so sorry.” Jisoo spoke hurridly.

Hoseok winced at the connotation. He only had two employees aside from him and this meant that he would have to go in and keep the shop open until ten tonight. Five hours more of work and he needed to leave soon.

“Don’t worry, Jisoo. You didn’t intend to get sick. Take care.” Hoseok said before hanging up and looking over at you, “That is sadly my signal to go.”

You looked like a kicked puppy in that moment, a sad gaze growing as you looked up at Hoseok, “Ok. See you tomorrow.”

All while he walked away, he wished that he could turn around and spend the rest of your break together. He felt like an ass for leaving right after agreeing to a date but his shop needed him. It was the curse of a shop owner and it was a curse that Hoseok had chosen. 

Of course, what he hadn’t realized until he got to his shop and Jinyoung had left was that he completely forgot to get your number once again. 

He was such a damn idiot at times!

Now he couldn’t text you to fill the time that he was forced to work. He also couldn’t get any more information about your date. Would it be formal? Casual? Where were you going to take him? Should he get a gift for you? 

It’d make sense that the two of you would be going on a date after your shift because otherwise why would he meet you at Namjoon’s cafe? 

In the end Hoseok fretted all throughout his shift and the night about what he could possibly wear for his date tomorrow. Everything felt wrong and he had no idea what to do. Everything he did and tried on felt like not enough. Nothing felt right and for the first time in a while, he didn’t know what to do. First dates were hard and he didn’t know how to prepare. 

He shaved and just barely missed twenty nics and even took a longer than normal to make sure that he wouldn’t stink during the date but what was he supposed to wear?

Despite his panicking and fears, Hoseok somehow managed to calm himself down to restlessly sleep that night and was even able to work in the morning. After work though, he was back to panicking. Somehow Hoseok managed to settle for wearing a simple pair of light blue jeans, one of his favorite large shirts with a smile on it, and his long tan jacket.

His whole afternoon bleed into itself and eventually Hoseok found himself sitting on the bench outside of Namjoon’s cafe, a single sunflower held loosely in his hands as he waited for you (he got it at some point between changing into his current clothes and coming here but he didn’t know if he could manage to pinpoint exactly when he had).  He barely had enough sense to wear his jacket for when the sun set and it got cold (or if he had to hide in it if you ended up taking him to some fancy restaurant). He would feel so underdressed if you did.

Why would you though?

From what Hoseok understood, you were just coming off of work so you probably wouldn’t want to go to some fancy place. Plus, working in a cafe wasn’t going to get you too much money, even if one’s employer gave them a living wage. You’d probably be a little pressed for money. 

If that was an issue though, Hoseok would be more than happy to pay but he wouldn’t care either way. 

It also probably wasn’t Hoseok’s place to pry at this time either.

In a last ditch attempt to make sure he was ready for the date, he quickly tried to check his breath with his hand, only getting blasted with air in his face instead. How was he even supposed to check his breath with his hand? 

Had his hair got messed up on his trip here?

Had they even agreed to meet here? Maybe you said a different place instead? 

Just to check, he looked inside the cafe and didn’t see you there. It was almost seven so maybe you were in the back? Maybe he could just text Namjoon to make sure you were off at seven. Hoseok didn’t want to overstep yet. 

“Are you looking for someone in there, Hoseok-ssi?” You asked from beside him, scaring him to the point that he jumped up and almost dropped the sunflower in his hands.

Once he managed to get his bearings again, his breath was taken away by how etheral you looked. There was almost no way that you had come from work, Hoseok was sure of that. Your hair was beautifully and simply styled and your outfit… Hoseok loved every bit of it. His heart fluttered slightly as he looked you over again (barely noticing the reddening blush growing on your face). You looked so good and for the umpteenth time that day, he questioned his own choice in clothes. He might be really underdressed. 

Dress pants would have been better to wear instead of jeans. What was he thinking? He really goofed up.

“Y-You look wonderful tonight, Y/n-ssi.” Hoseok finally said, blushing lightly as you laughed quietly.

“So do you, Hoseok-ssi.” You complimented, a broad smile on your face as you stepped closer and looked down at the sunflower.

“I… Uhhh… I got this for you. I don’t know what your favorite flower is or if you even like flowers but I thought it would be nice.” He stuttered out, quickly giving the flower to you. 

You looked up at Hoseok with a small laugh before saying, “I love it Hoseok-ssi. Shall we get to the restaurant? I got a reservation for seven thirty.”

“A reservation! I guess it is really fancy, huh?” Hoseok asked, rubbing his neck nervously as he started to walk with you.

“No. Not really. It is just popular and I didn’t want to have to spend the night looking for somewhere to eat. I hope you like Haemul Pajeon (vegetable pancake), I got us a reservation at a small place that is just about three blocks down the street. They make wonderful food.” 

“I love the sound of that. How’s your day been so far, Y/n-ssi?” Hoseok asked, biting his lip to hide a large smile growing on his face.

Haemul Pajeon was one of his favorite foods… and Y/n was being so considerate. He was feeling so soft and mushy. How dare you make him feel so soft. 

He loved it.

“It hasn’t been the best. I worked the morning shift and… well there are always rude customers but morning people have such a strange breed of rude customers.” You had started rambulling, animatedly gesturing and talking about the rude morning customers.

Hoseok simply watched and listened as you kept going on, a content and fuzzy feeling washing over him as he kept waking next to you. Occasionally your shoulders and hands brushed as you expertly led the way to the restaurant while ranting and while it left Hoseok reeling, it didn’t seem to phase you at all. He could live with that though. As long as you were happy. 

In the midst of all your rambling about work, the two of you made it to the restaurant. It was at the bottom of a large building, the upper floors likely dedicated to apartments or business offices. Even from the outside, Hoseok could see a large mass of people jostling around in the restaurant. Large friend groups talking and moving around the restaurant drunkenly, couples draped over each other, and restaurant workers expertly weaving through the masses. 

It was obviously a popular place and it made Hoseok just a little nervous. How would you and him get to talk much when all that was happening around you two? Maybe it would be more of a people watching event? One where he only really talked when it came to theories about other’s lives outside of this restaurant. 

There wasn’t too much time to think though as the two quickly started walking inside. You only stopped talking after introducing yourself to the hostess. In the silence between you two, Hoseok looked around the restaurant. It looked different from the outside. Whereas earlier it looked as if it would be a party place, now that Hoseok was inside, he could see a semblance of organization to the chaos.

Despite both you and Hoseok not talking, there wasn’t a silence that fell. The whole of the restaurant was lively and filled with a soft amiability that Hoseok really enjoyed. 

“Alright. Your reservation is ready. Please follow me.” The hostess said, bowing slightly before turning around and starting to weave through the tables. 

Hoseok swallowed his nerves before he started walking in front of you (the three of you had to walk single file because the space was too small to walk side by side) and gently grabbed your hand from behind. People were bumping up against him as he quickly followed behind the hostess but his grip on you didn’t falter. He hoped that his hand wasn’t too sweaty and that he wasn’t gripping you too hard, but Hoseok was nervous and he didn’t want to lose you in the crowd (or let go of your hand yet). 

The table that you had reserved was tucked in a corner and overlooked all of the action happening in the bar. There was a small candle lit between the two of you that flickered gently in the soft breeze created by the fans above. Hoseok liked the spot.

“I just realized,” You started with a laugh once you sat down, “I talked the whole walk here. Silly me. I got carried away. How has your day been so far?” 

“I like listening to you talk so it’s ok. As for my day, it has been a good day. I didn’t make any more pottery, but I headed the shop and got some good work done there.” Hoseok started, a large smile on his face as he looked across the table at you. 

“Oh! So you’re one of Namjoon’s business friends?”

Hoseok snorted at that. Namjoon did have a lot of business friends at this point.

“Yeah. I think I might be Namjoon’s first business friend though. We met in high school and have been friends since. Back in high school Namjoon wanted to be an astrologer believe it or not.” 

“Oh? I wouldn’t have guessed!” You laughed, “So what do you do?”

“I am a potter. My shop is just two streets over from the cafe you work at.” Hoseok nodded.

“Own. Namjoon and I are co-owners. I run the front.” You corrected lightly, “How about we look at the menu?” 

“Oh. Yeah. Let’s look.” Hoseok nodded along, somewhat caught off guard.

You were the co-owner? It made sense, Hoseok thought as he opened the menu, you looked like she belonged in that cafe. Plus, you were closer to Namjoon’s age than the other baristas' ages. He should have seen it coming. 

After a few minutes of looking through the menu Hoseok spoke up, “So… have you figured out what you’re going to get?” 

“Yeah. I am thinking of getting Haemul Pajeon with a side of chicken feet. What about you?” 

“Uhhh… I think that I am going to get Haemul Pajeon as well but with a side of kimchi. I’m not too hungry today.” Hoseok laughed lightly thinking back to his two large stress induced meals earlier today. 

You snorted and laughed lightly before taking a sip of your water, “I get that. Plus, the Haemul Pajeon are quite large. They have great deals.” 

Shortly after you two decided, a waiter came by and took your order, and then Hoseok and you were left in amicable silence once again. He was a ball of nerves once again and he had no idea of where to go from here… He wasn’t this anxious when he started dating Minjae… why was it so hard with you? Maybe because he was genuinely interested in you from the start and he was scared of screwing it up. Maybe because he had just spent most of the day fretting over this date and now that it was here, he realized that he didn’t think over the right stuff. 

“So,” Hoseok coughed lightly, hoping to clear his throat some, “Do you come to this restaurant often?”

“Not really. I came here the first night I moved into the apartment complex above the cafe but since then I haven’t. I actually came here on my own and just sat at the bar and talked to random strangers. It is amazing to see what conversations one can have when they’re open to it.” You said with a smile as you looked over at the bustling bar space. 

“I can imagine. I haven’t gone to bars much so I don’t have such conversations often but I have never had a dull conversation.” Hoseok said wistfully, thinking back to some of the talks that he had when he volunteered to help the homeless back in Gwangju. He wanted to keep up the volunteer work when he moved to Seoul but it simply didn’t happen. He got carried away with his studies and his life and service work simply got put on a backburner.

“Yeah? I doubt that, Hoseok-ssi.” You laughed, “I can’t believe you’ve never had a dull conversation. Not even one with a boring professor?”

Hoseok laughed lightly and shrugged, “I mean, I guess you could count some of those conversations as dull. I guess I was more thinking about general conversations with people… not cardboard cutouts.” 

You snorted at this before taking a large sip of your water, blush rising quickly on your face. A sense of pride washed over Hoseok at your reaction. He had made you laugh. It felt good to make someone smile this much. 

“I loved most of my professors, don’t get me wrong. They were amazing, but oh my gosh. Ask Namjoon about Professor Gaewon who taught our Stat 240. He was such a snore.” Hoseok started animatedly, smiling as you laughed again, “Even for me and I double majored in Statistics and Business. Dude could put me to sleep in seconds. Lecture or not. I went to one of his office hours once and it was even worse.” 

“Oh really?” You asked with a laugh, raising your eyebrows and looking at him with a lopsided grin.

“Oh yeah! I wanted to know a little more information about some complicated statistic and the details and whatnot, nerdy stuff really. He got so excited but you couldn’t tell because he talked in such a monotone voice,” Hoseok smiled brightly before he started mimicking Professor Gaewon, “This statistic, blah blah blah. It is interesting stuff.”

You were laughing uncontrollably at this point and Hoseok couldn’t help but indulge in the butterflies that fluttered wildly in his stomach. This was amazing.

“Needless to say, I didn’t go to his office hours after that.” 

You nodded, “I didn’t have anything like that in college. I mean, I was also not a business major and didn’t have to take any stat classes but I mostly got a lot of very pretentious professors who had written books or wild professors who I loved. I didn’t enjoy the former.” You laughed lightly and shook your head, “They seemed to think that they knew everything. It was painful.” 

“Oh? What’d you major in?” 

“I double majored in Literature and History. I love it. Don’t use it much with my work but that is ok.” You said, coming to a stop when the waitress came with sides for the food. 

You and Hoseok slightly bowed to the waiter before turning back to each other and smiling. For a couple minutes, the conversation died down and the noise of the restaurant around you two filled the air as both of you indulged in the sides. Before you and Hoseok had time to continue conversing, the waiter returned and gave both of you your Haemul Pajeon and the two of you dug in All throughout eating, the two of you made comments about how the Haemul Pajeon compared to what you two had had in the past. 

Somehow, all the time in the restaurant blurred together and before he even knew it, the two of them were back at Namjoon’s and your cafe. It had closed by now, the windows dark and reflecting the party life outside. 

“Well… this was a great night, Hoseok-ssi.” You said, swaying forwards and backwards with a soft and happy smile plastered across your face. 

Hoseok felt giddy looking at you. How did he get so lucky to have you ask him out? 

“It was. I would love to do it again sometime.” 

“Yeah.” You giggled and bit your lip as you asked.

“Yeah.” Hoseok nodded, biting his own lip as he took a step closer to you.

You took a step closer to him as well, your smile growing as you reached out and grabbed Hoseok’s waist. He leaned closer at this and gently pressed his lips against yours, you quickly reciprocating. His hands rose to cup your face as the kiss got heated, soon enough tongues starting to intertwine. 

A moan left him as you broke the kiss, a sly smile spreading on your face, “You may have to work for my phone number first, Hoseok-ssi.” 

He groaned quietly and smiled, his hands sliding down your soft face to your shoulders, “Well then, can I get your number then, Y/n-ssi?” 

You took a step away from Hoseok and giggled as his hands fell to his sides, “Nope. Try again tomorrow… then I will consider. Until then, good night, Hoseok-ssi.” 

#bangtanscenerycollab #btsguild #magicshopnet #btscreatorscorner #bts #bts fanfiction #bts cafe au #bts slice of life au #bts hoseok #bts jhope #bts fluff #bts oneshot #hoseok x reader #bts x reader #bts fan fiction #bts fanfic #bts fan fic #hoseok fluff #jhope fluff #lilliaflurr

[justanotherexpatinkorea]

Racism is relative

4.13.21

STOP ASIAN HATE 아시안 혐오 멈춰라

It’s weird, being a white American in Asia. At a time when people of Asian descent are increasingly the targets of hate crimes in my home country of America. 

I’m going on my third year living in South Korea. I’m a 외국인, a “foreigner.” I refer to myself as such in conversation, both in English and Korean. In an ethnically homogeneous country, my tall caucasian presence sticks out like a sore thumb. If anyone’s getting a sideways glance it’s me, the weird white person out of place in a sea of Koreans. And I’m fine with that. I made the decision to live here, and I enjoy doing so. Once I learned the rhythms of Korean life, I also learned that at the end of the day people are just people. No matter where you go.

The background of my daily life consists of Asian food, buildings, culture, language -- and Asian people. They’re the bus driver, grocery store cashier, bank teller, crossing guard, police officer, cook, convenience store clerk. And the list goes on. They’re just people. White, Asian, anything. We’re all just human beings trying to live in this world. Should be common sense. Common humanity. But apparently it’s not. 

---------------------------------------

Korean Friend: I’ve actually never left Korea, but once COVID is over I want to travel abroad.

Me: Where would you go?

Korean Friend: Australia, New Zealand, the U.S…

Me: Um, please wait on that third one.

Korean Friend: Why?

Me: *sends links to news reports about the Atlanta spa shooting, increased reports of hate crimes against Asians in the U.S.*

Korean Friend: Oh…

                         That’s scary…

Me: I know...

Korean Friend: I’ll just stick to travelling around here.

In all seriousness, I could not tell him he would be safe travelling to the U.S. And that is shameful and embarrassing to admit. Sadly I’ve grown accustomed to that twinge in my gut, when certain topics arise in conversation with non-Americans. 

In the U.S., Koreans and other people of Asian descent are being murdered and assaulted on the basis of their skin color. Fortunately Korea has rigorous gun control laws, so mass shootings aren’t an issue here. But just because people aren’t being killed by racists doesn’t mean racism doesn’t exist. As a culturally and ethnically homogenous country, Koreans take immense pride in their heritage. Often at the expense of others. 

Foreigners who don’t know better often lump Asian countries together. They assume everyone in Asia eats sushi, bows when they greet you, etc. Korea, Japan, and China are probably lumped together the most often. I used to do it too. I didn’t know enough about any one place to differentiate them in any meaningful way. But I do now.  

------------------------------------

For starters, there’s quite a bit of tension between the countries. Korea’s biggest beef is with Japan. A lot of Koreans have animosity towards Japan for their refusal to fully admit and apologize over the comfort women issue. (“Comfort women” were Korean women and girls forced into sex slavery by the Japanese army during WWII.) And I can’t blame them; there’s a lot of dark, horrible history there. A couple years ago, Korea enacted a boycott on Japan (for alleged economic and trade reasons I won’t get into here). There were stickers emblazoned with “No Japan!” slapped on just about everything. When I taught the “Where are you from?” chapter in my English class, students were blurting it out -- “No Japan!” As if anyone from Japan should simply be shouted down with a “No!” That’s where I started to get uncomfortable. 

As for China, Koreans also have some problems there. For starters, air pollution. China does produce a lot of air pollution that gets blown over the Korean peninsula. But on an average day, it’s only about 50%. Yet many Koreans will mumble and complain about the dirty Chinese factories clogging up the skies, forgetting to mention the other half that’s made by Korea itself. Another factor is tourism (in pre-COVID, days anyways). Some Koreans complain about the loud, noisy, dirty Chinese tourists. Add the coronavirus to an equation already based on stereotypes of uncleanliness and -- I’m getting uncomfortable again. 

Yeah, Japan committed war crimes. Yeah, the coronavirus started in China. I’m not going to deny the facts. But I do have a problem with the attitudes of discrimination that it breeds. 

Which brings me to another point that makes me uncomfortable. This time in a laughable and darkly ironic sort of way. 

----------------------------------------------

Last month, three of the eight provinces in Korea issued administrative orders stating that foreign workers must get tested for COVID within a two week timeframe. This was in response to a handful of outbreaks of factories that employ largely migrant workers. The order targeted foreign laborers from China, Thailand, Vietnam, Uzbekistan, and other similar countries. However,  it did not require Koreans working at the exact same facilities to get tested. We all know too well that the coronavirus does not discriminate, and will infect anyone. 

The government faced a lot of backlash, and the policy was downgraded to a “recommendation.” But one thing was made clear. Foreigners were being singled out as the “carriers'' of coronavirus. We were the threat. 

I say “we” here, but I mean it in an oblique way. In terms of my legal status in Korea, I have more in common with a Southeast Asian migrant worker than my Korean colleagues. I speak pretty good Korean, but not a lick of Thai or Vietnamese. But cultural competence doesn’t matter here. Our “foreign-ness” is the factor at play. 

I would like to add that overall, my foreign-ness is different. I’m white. And unfortunately that’s still a point in my favor. Whiteness and lightness is still seen as preferable. (One of my 6th grade students: “Teacher! Your skin is so white. So beautiful. Not me. I’m too dark. I want to be more light.” My heart shattered into a million pieces, as I tried to tell her she was already beautiful the way she was.) 

One of the ways it has affected me is the questions I get asked at work. Take this one from last May, directed exclusively at foreign English teachers: “Where did you go last weekend? Were you or anyone you know in Itaewon?” (Itaewon is the foreigner district in Seoul, where a large coronavirus outbreak occurred. Funny enough patient zero was not a foreigner - they were Korean.) This may seem like a harmless line of questioning. My phsyical saftey and well-being were in no way in danger. But again the underlying assumption is that foreign = dangerous. 

Ironically, Asians are being targeted in the U.S. while foreigners are being targeted in Asia. But I suppose it’s not really that ironic after all. This is nothing new. History shows again and again, that it’s often our nature to blame and shun that which is different and foreign. This is not unique to the U.S. It’s an issue unique to the human condition. 

Racism exists. It exists everywhere. Especially in the era of COVID. No one is immune. I mean, look at me. I grew up in a church that taught me to maintain the purity of the races, and that interracial marriage was a sin. I’m sure glad I’ve gotten rid of that one. But that was a learned belief. Racism is learned. We must commit to actively un-learning it too. 

[royallyprincesslilly]

Title: Love, Maybe? {42}

Chris Evans X Reader OFC Vixen Giovanni

Warning: Cursing, Heavy Angst

Word Count: 4.7K

Summary: After a night of drunkenness you wake up next to warm, hot as hell body, a migraine and no memory of the night before. When you come to realize that the hot body belongs to none other than Hollywood’s golden boy Chris Evans you freak out. As events unfold you become even more panicked to find out you got married in your drunken haze. What else is there to do but get it annulled, right? Before walking away, you share one more night of molten kisses and passion. Three years later you are still living with the repercussions of your brash decisions, but the surprises don’t stop there. The past has a way of coming back and have you questioning is this fate that you’ve been running from, hell could it have been love, maybe?

NOTE: **Italic texts is an inner Vixen thought. Bold Italic texts is an inner Chris thought. 

**Loosley Edited/Proofread**

Thank you guys for reading!!!! If you enjoyed this please LIKE, COMMENT, REBLOG. 😊❤❤️

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Chapter 42:  Down With The Ship

-Vixen-

Thanks to how close opening night was you were busier than ever making sure things were perfect. You checked, double-checked and even triple checked everything, décor, menu, staff, vendors, setting, everything. You left nothing untouched by your meticulous eye and obsessive-compulsive attention. This meant you ate, slept and breathed your restaurant. You were up before sunrise out after breakfast with Ella, gone all day and not back until just before midnight. It was exhausting and you missed spending time with Ella but you were grateful for the distraction.

 Before you knew it two weeks had passed since your life imploded. Two weeks since the story of the decade broke. For those two weeks, you were hounded by paparazzi almost everywhere. You were now on their radar and they were learning your moves. You had to be extra careful not to lead them back home to Ella. When Ella went anywhere it was usually with Nexus who was more than happy to play mom. She said it was great practice which made you think that things with Anthony were getting even more serious.

 For the two weeks Chris called, but you ignored every one of them. What began as four or five calls a day dwindled to two then one. You still didn’t want to hear anything he had to say. You had way too much going on and you didn’t want to add to your plate. You took a meeting with Charmaine St. John to hear all she had to say then abruptly told her you didn’t want anything from him when she eluded you could get a “nice cut.” 

She looked shocked at that. Then when you went on to say you weren’t going to proceed with taking half of everything she almost fell out of her seat. It was clear she was used to dealing with jilted Hollywood wives who felt entitled no matter what and wanted to go down fighting. That wasn’t you. You just wanted peace and quiet. She prepared the paperwork and faxed it to you. It was paperwork you still held on to.

Ella’s inquiries about Chris increased. What was once or twice a day turned into three or four or even five. The numerous facetime calls you’d orchestrated between Ella and Chris didn’t even seem to have mattered. Every time Nex told you it broke you. This was the reason you were apprehensive to involve him in the first place; this was why you worked as hard as you did to keep everything strictly platonic and complication free. For all the work you attempted you’d ended up right where you didn’t want to be.

You heard the bell chime from your phone and checked it to find an email from Kassius. He’d sent the contract proposal from Food Network a few days ago for you to review and go over with your lawyer. When you did it was revealed that they were being very generous, more generous than you suspected they had been to other no-name chefs. 

According to Charmaine, they were offering an eighteen months contract for production of a cooking show with a twist that was creatively left up to you. Within the eighteen-month period, there were to be four episodes filmed a month, with smaller recordings they hoped to push for YouTube, and an extension review to be done at the end of the contract period. When it came down to money you were shocked by how many figures you saw. Charmaine told you it was very generous, but you should definitely leap on it.

 You were apprehensive because it was rare for them to offer this kind of money to some no-name chef. You suspected and worried that they were showing the “kindness” of their hearts because of everything that was going on and your newly ousted status as Chris Evans’ wife and baby mama. You suspected they wanted to capitalize on it, either way, it was a win/win for them.

 “What’s got you so far away?” Your mother approached and sat across from you. You sighed and shook your head.

 “Remember that deal with Food Network?”

 “Yes, we are all still incredibly proud of you, honey. My god, all your years of work, sleepless nights. I know it has been hard, harder than you let on and I am over the moon for your successes.” You felt the prick of tears. You knew she loved you, you knew she always had your best interest at heart, but this was so nice to hear her praise you rather than berate you for not having a boyfriend let alone a husband.

 “Thanks, mom.” Her smile was warm, as was her hand that rested atop yours.

 “The contract they sent over is—impressive. There is trying to woo someone to join you and then there is going all out. This is all out,” you explained.

 “That’s good, right? So, what’s wrong?”

 “I feel like it’s because I’m now linked to him. I feel like they’re willing to offer these things, this amount of money not because I’m me but because I’m close to him.”

 “I’m going to stop you right there Vixen. You are my daughter, you are smart, talented, willful, ambitious, strong and such a force to be reckoned with. You know everything and if you don’t you fake it till you make it. You have no idea how talented you really are. I do not doubt for a second that the reason you are seeing the fruits of your tireless labor now is because of that talent, ambition and grueling desire to make an amazing life for your family and Ella.” Your tears rolled down your face of their own accord.

 “Vixen, you are a star, that is the reason why your father and I gave you that name. Vixen to the American definition is fierce, fiery-tempered, and it was true. You cried twenty times louder and longer than any of the other babies, you were stubborn, quick to anger, and that temper ooh, it was hot but were you adorable.” She smiled bright which prompted your smile. You sniffled and dried your tears but they kept flowing.

 “Vixen also means female fox. You know I believe in every culture and take pieces where I feel a connection. Guess you can call it my way of keeping in touch with my gypsy spirit, something I think you inherited more so than Nexus. This beautiful free spirit that loathes being tied down, loathes being boxed in and caged like a gilded bird. You want to be free, so you keep running for that freedom. In Japanese culture, there is a creature called Kitsune, a powerful mythical creature with an abundance of intelligence and power. Their energy is bright, hence your middle name. Your name is no coincidence honey, it was destined for you. It is your time. You are here because of you and you alone. Reap those rewards unabashedly,” she finished.

 You could hear the conviction in her voice and see the pride coming off of her. It struck you. Nodding your head, you wiped your face and allowed her words to sink it.

 “It is your time.”

 You signed the contract and faxed it back to Kassius. You were filled with a mix of excitement, happiness, and sadness. You wanted to call him and tell him the good news, tell him about this exciting new thing in your life but you couldn’t. You also wanted to feel the happiness the event deserved but again, you couldn’t, not completely.

  -Chris-

“I cannot believe you would do this! I cannot believe you’d do something so stupid. On the list of stupid things you’ve done which is quite long, this is the stupidest.”

 He sighed and rubbed his face. He was tired of being reprimanded. This was round three with them and by them, he meant all of them. He was now sitting in his office in front of one of the biggest group video calls he’d done. On the screen was his mom, his sisters their significant others, his brother and his partner. It was a full house. He’d sat here for the last forty minutes as they each took a turn telling him what an idiot he was. He listened to it from every point of view, and no matter how he cut it he still felt like a dick.

 “Okay enough! Jesus Christ, I get it I screwed this up,” he shouted.

 “Baby brother, you did more than screwed it up. Ya’ fucked it up!”

 Everyone began talking over each other and none of it sounded any different than when they’d started.

 “Fa’ the love of God!” His shout was loud, and it echoed throughout the first floor of his home. It was loud enough for them to shut their mouths and hear his accent pop through. No one spoke for several long moments.

 “Look, I know what I did was wrong. I know I messed up. I know I should have done things differently. I have gone around it time and time again, I wish I could change what I did, go back and handle it differently. I’m sorry.”

 They still didn’t speak.

 “Chris. Getting past the fact that you lied to us about marrying her and then continued to lie when you realized you were still married. We all can see you’re in love with her, I don’t know how she hasn’t seen it,” Shana stated.

 He didn’t know it was that obvious. Thinking further, he’d practically told you how he felt, he just hadn’t said the words. You had to know.

 “You have to tell her how you actually feel Chris. I get it you’re scared and everything that comes along with it. I get it. At some point though in order to get what you want you have to go after it—or her.”

 He sighed. Somehow this had turned from a berating session to a counseling session.

 “Look, I know you all mean well, but—she hates me.”

 “She doesn’t hate you ya’ idiot. She’s hurt,” Carly informed in an annoyed tone. She then shook her head. “Chris you lied to her and honestly it is just the same as the lie she told. Neither of you are in the right. I get why she lied but you, I don’t get it. You lied to her and she feels stupid, she feels as if maybe you had an agenda. Like maybe you manipulated her and anything that was between you wasn’t real that it was just some figment of the situation that you ensured with your lie,” Carly finished.

 “I had no agenda. All I wanted was a little time to show her what could be there, here between us.”

 “You should have told her and gave her the choice. You took her choice away Chris. I get that rights and choices are huge with her especially seeing how independent she has been her entire life,” his mother simplified.

 He sighed and nodded. She was right. He took your choice just as you’d taken his. Everything he’d felt in the first initial days since you’d told him about Ella you were now feeling. He didn’t think about it in that light.

 “You have to be the one to fix this,” Shanna added.

 “I don’t think I can. She said that they were better off without me.”

 Scott made a “yikes” face, as did the rest of his siblings.

 “Well, you kinda deserve that one. Have you seen what the press are doing to her? Her entire life is plastered everywhere. Not even just her, but Ella’s too. She didn’t ask for this and certainly wasn’t prepared. Her privacy is gone. This blindsided her,” Shanna’s boyfriend enlightened. It was insight from someone like you, normal, away from the eye of the press.

“Regardless if she wants you or not, or if you think she wants you or not you have to make this right. You have to stop using that as a crutch. You have to take a chance, Chris. Don’t she and Ella deserve it?”

 There was the cincher, he thought. He was so used to getting what he wanted with little effort and work. He was now face to face with what he had to do, he had to put in the right kind of work.

  -Vixen-

“Very good Ella, I’m so proud of you. You read that so well.”

 She smiled widely and clapped her hands excitedly. You ruffled her soft curls then kissed her forehead.

 “Mama, I sweepy.”

 “Okay, let’s get the little princess to bed.” You stood, lifted her and carried her to her bedroom while softly singing her favorite lullaby.

 “Smile, though your heart is aching, smile even though it’s breaking. When there are clouds in the sky, you’ll get by. If you smile through your fears and sorrow. Smile and maybe tomorrow, you’ll see the sun come shining through. If you just smile.”

 By the time you made it to her bedroom, she was half asleep. You tucked her in and finished the lullaby while tracing gentle patterns on her scalp. It always did the trick and within a few minutes she was out like a light. You sat there for a few minutes more and just watched her sleep. When you felt like your tears would start you hopped in the shower and allowed it to clam your mind.

 You still had some work to do so you wrapped in your robe after your post-shower ritual and went down to your office and got lost in work. You didn’t know how long you were in there sipping wine and working but when you looked up you heard muffled voices. You stood and slowly walked down the hall. As you got closer you could make out whose voices you were hearing; your mother, Nexus and Chris.

 “I’m very sorry Mrs. Giovanni. There are no words or excuses I can give, and I am ashamed of my actions. I can assure you what I did was not an act of maliciousness or manipulation. I hope with time I can show you how sorry I am and earn your forgiveness,” he said.

 For a few seconds, there were no words, and you were sure that they’d fallen for it. How could they not? He was respectful, sounded sincere, charming and was laying it on thick as fuck. Then your mother spoke.

 “Chris, when I first met you I saw the kind of man you were through your eyes. I know you’re a good man, with good intentions. I know you love Ella and would do anything for her and Vixen. I have no doubt that this wasn’t malicious and I know you didn’t mean any harm.”

 “That doesn’t change that there was harm done, a lot of harm,” Nexus added. You slyly peeped around the corner and saw Nexus leaning on the wall with her arms crossed before her, she was the furthest from him. she was not happy. your mother, on the other hand, looked neutral.

 “You’re right I did cause harm.”

 “Chris, I know that you know what you did. I just don’t know why you did it. I don’t get it and you know what I don’t know if I want to get it. I believed in you, I was rooting for you and I kind of feel responsible for the pain my sister is in. She didn’t deserve to find any of this out through a tabloid show,” Nexus shouted with as low of a whisper as she could manage. You could tell she was angry.

 “You’re right, she didn’t deserve this, any of it. I’m sorry. I just—I want a chance to explain to her. I need to say some things to her.”

 You’d heard enough. Coming around the corner your mother was the first to see you.

 “Get out. There is nothing here for you,” you blurted out and you hoped you sounded believable.

 “Vixen, stop it,” your mother interrupted coming up to you. “The least you can do is hear him out.” Your jaw dropped.

 “The least? Excuse me?”

 “Vixen, this isn’t something that happened to you. You were at the altar with him, you married him the same way he married you. Yes, he wasn’t forthcoming about the status of that marriage, but your life isn’t about you anymore. You have a daughter, a little girl who will be affected by this. She is already affected. She asks for him. She deserves the two of you to get it together.”

 You were speechless. You had no idea she had it in her to be so bold about this. You also hated that she was right. Ella did deserve normalcy. Sighing you cross your arms and roll your eyes.

 “Fine.”

 “Are you sure?” Nexus approached you giving you an inquisitive look. You nodded assuring her you knew what you were doing although you had no idea what you were doing. “Okay. Just holler if you need me.” She gave you a quick hug and walked away with your mother trailing behind you.

 You didn’t look at him, instead, you walked away to the kitchen. You could feel him following you. Once you walked in you made a beeline for the freezer and took out the tequila bottle then filled a glass. You could feel his eyes on you, he didn’t speak, and you were quickly getting annoyed.

 “You better start because I didn’t fuck up.”

 “You’re right, I fucked up,” Chris admitted.

“No shit! You lied to me, Chris. For weeks. You orchestrated everything on the basis of that lie.”

 He rounded the island attempting to get closer. You evaded him and walked around to the opposite side. He stopped and raised his hands in the air. “That’s not true. Not entirely. When Sherman told me about the error and that we were still married I didn’t know what to think or do. I didn't know how to tell you. I was scared to tell you. I thought you'd insist we file and end things.”

 Pulling the glass from your lips you gulped down the liquid more quickly than you should have and felt the intensified burn. “So what! That is a stupid reason, Chris. That doesn’t matter,” you lashed out.

 “Of course it matters. I didn't want to lose you again!”

 The admission had you frozen just staring at him across the island. The words were pretty, but they were said to cover an ugly lie. You closed your eyes and refilled your glass and took another out to fill it. You then slide it across the island to him. There were almost two full minutes of silence. The two of you just sipped your drinks, well he sipped, you gulped. Then he spoke.

 “I’d spent months, years regretting how everything went down three years ago. Spent so many nights sitting up with a glass like this one just watching the ghosts of memories all around me. I spent so much time wishing I'd done things differently, wishing things had ended up differently. Then out of nowhere there you were and the minute I saw you everything I felt three years ago came back, everything I'd been trying to bury for three years came right back.”

 “None of this matters. You lied to me! You used this lie to your advantage. None of it was real. None of it was true.”

 The words stung you even more. The realization that this was reality, that everything over the last few weeks wasn’t anything real. You felt the tears and you tried so hard to keep it in.

 “That's a lie and you know it Vixen.”

 He raised his voice at that point. Realizing his tone, he took a deep breath, closed his eyes and slowly blew it out. You took another gulp.

 “This is what I know.” Another swig of tequila burned your throat before you spoke. 

“You said the worst shit to me three years ago, made me feel like a modern day   prostitute, like I was only worth what was between my legs; like that was all I was good for. That fucked me up, it fucked with me for years. Had me second guessing my worth, my value to a man, to you. So I got the hell out of there. Did I regret it? Sometimes, but for the most part no. Then I found out about Ella and I could have told you, I could have tracked you down, but I didn't. I was scared I didn't want to let you anywhere near again so you’d hurt me all over again. Part of me did want to stick it to you for what you did. I can be honest here and now. Then three years later you show up and you're charming and kind and everything you were three years ago, everything that I--then you kiss me and bring me to that lake and we--then San Francisco. You had so many chances to tell me the truth. You didn't.”

 “I should have. I tried to so many times. I tried the night you met my family, tried in the pool, tried the night in the backyard in Boston, I tried, and I did but you were asleep when I said it in San Francisco. Jesus Christ, I tried Vixen.”

 “Not hard enough. What you wanted one more romp in the hay to see if it was like old times?”

Again, Chris walked around the island to you. You backed up to the oversized fridge holding your arms out trying to keep him at bay. He ignored your hands and still approached, closing in. Walking away you were hoping to create distance between you, but he followed you.

 “What's not fair is you keeping this from me. Something that was important that mattered and I know I did the same thing so don’t pull that. 

 “I wanted time to show you how perfect we were for each other, for you to see that maybe things were the way they should have always been. God Vixen I've never felt this way about anyone before. I've never felt the things I feel for you, I never thought I could, but I do.”

 The tears were steadily approaching, your breakdown was coming. “You feel nothing it was an illusion; it was the sex.” You attempted to walk away again but Chris’ hand wrapped around your arm pulling you back to him.

 “I've been in love with you from the night I married you. I didn’t know it then; I didn’t know it until I saw you again. When I looked in your eyes and had you in front of me I knew exactly how I felt and seeing you with Ella--our daughter only made me fall more in love with you. You are such an amazing mother, such a kind person with a good heart. You are so damn ambitious and determined. I love that about you, love how genuine you are and how you have an incredible work ethic one that shows the kind of person you are. This was never about sex for me Vixen. It started with Ella, but it didn’t take long for me to realize I didn't just want her, I wanted you. I want to build a life with you and Ella, be by your side as you shatter that glass ceiling you are so damn close to shattering. I want to be your biggest fan and supporter, I want to grow with you, build something others could only dream of. I want to see you every morning, go to sleep beside you after tucking Ella in, I want family vacations, princess dress-up parties, trips to the lake, birthday parties, a family, brothers, and sisters for Ella. I--I want you Vixen. I love you.”

 Everything froze. He’d said the words. You thought you’d wanted to hear these words, thought if only he felt this way things would be so much easier. Now here they were. You thought you’d be happy or feel some sort of excitement but the only thing you felt was fear. You were filled with an abundance of fear, so much fear you couldn’t speak for several long moments. He stood there waiting for you to respond and each second that passed he looked as if he were unraveling.

 “I want to love you, Vix. Let me.” His voice was pleading, as were his eyes, it was like he was begging you. When his lips dropped to yours the only thing your body did was kiss him back with as much passion and desire that he kissed you. He pulled you closer to him and the heat from his body had you pressing against him trying to savor it. A moan escaped you then one came from him. In a matter of seconds, the kiss was quickly getting out of hand. You were getting lost in the moment despite your common sense. You were the one to pull away.

 “Until the day you wake up and want something else or don't want me anymore. The day you've finally gotten me out your system.” Your tears finally won as you expressed your deepest fear concerning him. Pressing your forehead to his chest you accepted defeat and cried allowing your fears and sorrow to seep out of every pore. You’d suppressed this cry because you feared you would never be able to stop.

 Somehow, you found your voice for words. “Chris I barely put myself back together last time. I have no idea how I did it, no idea how my heart healed I--I can't.”

 Somehow you got the words out through your tears. Somehow you were able to speak. You were scared to look at him, but you chanced it and immediately regretted it. Chris looked hurt. There was visible pain on his face and shining through his eyes. That only made you cry more. You put your forehead onto his chest again and breathed him in. When you felt his forehead on the top of your head you sobbed.  

 “Right.”

 “I swear I won’t stand in the way of you getting to be there for Ella. I promise I won’t be that woman. We will work something out that you can see her when you want. I just--.” Unable to finish you walked away toward your bag.

 “So you don’t want me?”

 “Chris--.” The question was blatant. You couldn’t lie about it. You also couldn’t say anything. The terror in you was at its peak and the truth was you were too scared.

 “You don’t feel what I feel?” You could feel him behind you. You wanted to turn to him and stare in his eyes but you knew if you did you couldn’t get through this. You were barely making it now. You reached into your purse and took out the folded papers.

 “Tell me Vixen. There is no way that you feel nothing; no way that all this time we’ve spent together, after everything we’ve done together meant nothing.”

 You try to keep a straight face, one that was arid of emotion that could give any indication just how much you were dying inside. The outward signs of that agony were your tears that continued to roll down your cheeks.

 Taking a deep breath, you pressed the papers to his chest. Debating inside yourself you kept your hand on them—on him. This was yet another time a war was being waged within you, brain, reality, freedom, safety, or heart, dreamland, complication, risk. Maybe you had a lot more of this gypsy spirit your mother spoke about, you thought.

 “I'm not strong enough, or brave enough. This won't end well.”

 After a long hesitation and endless internal debate, you pulled your hand away from his chest just as he gripped the papers. You still didn’t know if you were doing the right thing from your heart or from fear. Unable to look at him anymore you slinked past him and down the hall. You had no idea how you did it so gracefully, especially considering how shaky your legs were.

   -Chris-

 He couldn’t believe his eyes. The force of his realization of seeing this knocked the wind out of his lungs. He could hear the blood pumping in his ears, hear his heart pounding so loudly that there was no other sound that he heard. Divorce papers—signed divorce papers. He gripped the side of the island hoping to steady himself. More hurt than he’d ever felt in his life bombarded him. His hyperventilating came on quickly and impacted his other senses, his vision, his breathing, his scent, even his touch. This was his worse nightmare, the worst outcome.

 “It’s over. She doesn’t want me.”

 Acknowledging that out loud felt like ripping his heart out. It had been so long since he’d felt pain like this, it dated as far back as his childhood. Even then did not compare to now. He didn’t know how long he stood there, didn’t know if he could move, or speak for that matter. When he finally did move his limbs felt heavy as if he had fifty pounds of lead in his body. He couldn’t think but he sure felt everything. Digging in his pocket he took out his pen and pressed it to the paper on the island right next to the blank line for him. He wavered for a few moments but shook off the hesitation and signed his name on the line next to yours. Once complete he got the hell out there sparing not even a second to look back. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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#love maybe fic #Chris Evans #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans smut #chris evans x reader #chris evans x you #Chris Evans X black reader

[renwritesstuff]

we are family

Day 4: we are family.

Describe or draw a familiar moment. Are they close, or estranged? Are they blood relatives, or family found with friends?

Two Traynors stared each other down, hands hovering over a small box. There were 5 empty shot glasses in a semicircle around them, flanking the pristine chess board between the pair.

Wiping her hands with a dish towel, Priya Suresh-Traynor pleaded with her family. “Dessert is almost ready, do you two have to do this now?”

“The fate of the galaxy depends on it, mum,” Samantha Traynor mumbled back, not breaking eye contact with her father.

“You heard the kid,” Geoffrey Traynor seconded with a lazy smile. “I need to know my little sprog‘s mind hasn’t gotten soft since she’s been away.”

“Soft?? Did you miss the part where I kicked Polgara T’Suza’s arse across the Citadel?”

“Vid or it didn’t happen.”

What are you, five??

...God, I wish I had a vid. Are there vids? I wonder if I can ask for one...

“I have a trophy proving it happened. And a witness.” Sam’s eyes flitted over to the witness in question, her gaze narrowing.

Commander Annelise Shepard held her glass of red wine in surrender. Her voice came out wet and shaky from her fresh sip. “She’s—” Shepard patted her chest from the cough. “—She’s correct. She electrocuted that asari good.” 

And got a shower as a prize.

That narrow challenge in her eyes switched to panic as Sam glanced back at her father, who was tsking in disapproval. “Neuro-feedback chess? ...Sammy. You didn’t.”

The Comms Specialist scowled. “I didn’t choose it, it was part of the tourney rules. Usually, yes, I have slightly more integrity.” Unless I really want to win, that is. “It was just a lark, father.”

“Well as long as it was on a lark you buried that smug asari, I guess you’re forgiven. ...still can’t top your Dad at 5-Shot Speed Chess though, I bet.” The older man blew on his knuckles theatrically and gave them a wiggle before resuming his position at the worn speed clock.

Oh, you’re on.

“Oh, you’re on.”

Priya gave an apologetic smile at Shepard, who had taken up perch at the kitchen counter partition. The bar seat next to her was empty, waiting for Sam to return from her tense game. The matriarch of the Traynor family was busy at the stove stirring the simmering pot of kheer on one burner while checking a boiling sugary syrup on another. The warm kitchen filled with the scent of Indian spices and jasmine rice bled over into the prefab living room area.

“I wish I could lie and say something like ‘they aren’t usually like this,’ but…” Priya shrugged and smiled fondly at her husband as the game began. The speed clock snapped with each hit as the older and younger Traynor dove into an intense exchange of pieces. “It’s actually a tradition when Sammy comes home.” She paused before clarifying. “A tradition since Sammy was proper drinking age, mind you.”

Annelise smiled and raised an eyebrow. “Is that right?”

Sighing, Priya tapped away her Omni-tool where a reverse countdown timer could be seen by Shepard. “I think it was One-Shot Speed Chess back then,” she admitted. “I swear we were a classy family at some point. ...I can’t recall when, precisely, but I assumed we had to have bumbled into it somewhere in the last 25 years.”

“I’m 26, mum,” Sam reminded loudly as she slapped the clock once more.

“We were definitely classy when you were one, sprog,” Priya snarked back. “I mean, you weren’t because you just ate and shat all day, but Geoffrey and I were newlyweds and still extremely classy.”

“Muuuuuuum!” 

Oh my God do we have to talk about me shitting my diaper in front of Shepard???

Annelise failed to hide a staccato of exhale-laughs behind her wine glass, amused by the exchange.

Oh my God why did we come here?

...Oh shit Dad almost had me there.

Oh shit are they doing this on purpose? Working together against me??

Betrayed by my own flesh and blood!

Sam had to do a few lazy blinks to push back the swimming in her head and vision. Those shots were creeping in fast aided by a full stomach of naan and saag paneer. But she resumed focus on the game at hand, giving the clock another slap as she nudged her white bishop in an offensive position.

“So, Comm—Annelise,” Priya fumbled slightly. “What are your parents like?”

Mum. Did you not watch any ANN profiles? 

Shepard’s sip of wine was casual, unruffled by the question. “Couldn’t tell you. Both gone. Mom when I was four from eezo poisoning, Dad when I was thirteen. Fire in our apartment building.”

What could have been a very awkward silence was instead filled with Priya’s empathetic tongue cluck (honed from years of practice as a registered nurse). “You poor thing. Too much life experience forced onto someone so young.” Her vigorous stirring motion never wavered. “Not to mention the life of a marine on top of all that. What a hand this universe deals us, hm?”

“Indeed,” Annelise agreed. She smiled sadly, her eyes inward as though weighing something. “This reminds me of the dinners I had with my brother and dad.”

Oh? Samantha’s head tilted so she could hear better. Her father was closing in on one corner of the board, but her queen sprang into a hole in his defenses.

“Oh?” Priya asked, echoing Sam’s own curiosity.

Nodding, Annelise rotating the now empty wine glass in her hand. “Dad wasn’t much for cooking, but John loved it. He loved grilling and barbecue. He’d usually save some of his courier paycheck for a good cut of meat at the store and try out different seasonings.” She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. “I bet he would have loved your cooking.”

“I fear I know the answer, but where is ...John?” At Shepard’s nod, Priya continued. “Where is John now?”

Oh no.

Should have given your folks some notes, Traynor.

I didn’t think it was my tale to tell!

How are you this bad at relationships, Traynor??

“Also gone, right before Dad. Car accident.” Annelise chewed her cheek a moment. “You know, before the Skyllian Blitz, I thought I was pretty unlucky based on all that.”

“And now?”

“Well, everything’s kind of a shit show, so jury’s out on that.” Annelise looked over at Sam, who was getting louder and more erratic with her clock taps. “But lucky in other ways.”

“Oh good answer, love!” Priya crowed, snapping the towel in Annelise’s direction. “A for effort, superbly charming response.” Her Omni-tool started beeping, signaling the woman to pull the pot of rice milk off the burner and set it aside to cool before turning her attention to the syrup. “What were three favorite things your brother cooked?”

An exhale deep through Shepard’s nose as she held her chin in her hand. “Oh God, I haven’t thought about that in ages.” She nodded at Priya’s silent pantomime offer to refill her wine glass. “He loved ribeye steak. Kind of fatty for me, and too damn expensive, but… I dunno, I liked it because he liked it so much.”

Aw. Sam felt a pang of longing for Shepard. There was a fondness to the woman’s tone that didn’t come up often. 

How often does Commander Bloody Shepard have a moment to think about her family? Or talk about them?

We should work on that, Traynor.

Geoffrey piped up regarding one of his favorite subjects. “Good man! Good cut of beef. What temperature?” He pointed a finger at Annelise as though calling on a student in one of his classes.

“Medium rare.”

“Good man indeed,” Geoffrey agreed as he slapped the timer one more time. White and black sides pieces were dwindling as lines of attack thinned out.

“Let’s see, what else… He actually did a spiced mutton I really liked. Sometimes lamb. Both were dirt cheap for awhile in Seattle before the drought, so he made a lot of it.” Annelise smiled as she accepted a small round poor of kheer, a sprinkling of ground nuts on top. “Oh, and his ribs were to die for. John had this dry rub mixture he spent months tinkering with. Took damn near eight hours to cook, but worth it.”

Geoffrey exchanged a look with his wife before cutting back to the game. Priya nodded.“Oh we love lamb in this house. One of the many reasons we applied for colony life. No more ration stamps from those artificial trade wars with the Volus, and all our farming sustainable and available direct to the colony first.” Priya fired up her Omni-tool. “I have a lot of great lamb recipes if you’re—goodness! I haven’t asked how your cooking chops fare?”

Nudging a pawn over to take Sam’s knight, Geoffrey jibed. “A loaded question, dear. We all know our Sammy is completely dependent on Alliance-provided cafeteria food. How she survived four years at Oxford is a complete mystery. She should have either ended up three hundred pounds from eating rubbish or died of scurvy.”

Hey!

“You talk a lot of shit, old man, for someone who just got checked. And it’s called a dormitory meal plan, I’ll have you know. I had three square meals.”

I just probably didn’t drink water the entire time. All booze or energy drinks.

“Of cafeteria food, further proving my point. Also, check.”

Ugh. Also, what?

That exhale-laugh from Annelise almost pulled Sam away from her last ditch strategy. The Commander extended her own Omni-tool. “I’d love the help. While I can survive on a remote moon with just a knife and a canteen, I don’t prefer to. I did undercover work for a year after graduating N7, so we had to learn how to be human again. Cooking included. Some of it even some fancy five course meals meant to impress targets.”

“So you know where all the forks go and what they do?” Samantha asked, slapping the timer. “Check.”

“I definitely do.” Those green eyes glittered with mirth.

“Oooh, be still my heart.” Sam shot a finger-gun at her girlfriend.

Priya made some flicking motions with her fingers before an answering ping from Shepard’s wrist. “Well, here are some of Sammy’s favorites. Someone should have them, since the pride of my life can’t make toast.” 

“Hey!”

“I also made note of some of the ones with Sammy’s allergies.”

Annelise flicked through the holo screen, studying the recipes. “Curry, shellfish, and peanuts, right?”

You forgot public speaking and losing at chess to my father.

Sam’s mother clutched her heart theatrically. “You know! Oh Geoffrey, did you hear? Sammy trusted her with shellfish, darling!” Priya poured a ladle full of the syrup over a small pyramid of large cake-like balls that had been chilling in a dish. She brought the dish over to the pair of competitors whose game was nearing completion.

“Check! And I did, love! It seems our Samantha is serious about this one! ...or her commanding officer looked at her file.” He grinned at his daughter before reaching for one of the gulab jamun.

Scowling, Sam slapped his hand away from the bowl before slapping the speed clock again. She could feel a heat rising in her neck and jaw (hopefully it was just the alcohol). “No dessert til we finish the game! And check!” 

After a tentative bite, Annelise dug into the bowl of sweet kheer with enthusiasm. “I mean, you’re not wrong, sir. But I had the decency to act surprised when she finally told me. How was that again, Samantha?” 

Oh sonabitch.

“When we went out on a date in public for the first time and I stole a bite of your lobster roll and my throat closed and we had to go to the med center.”

Both of her parents barked her name at the same time. “Samantha Karuna Traynor!” Her father added, “You always were a sucker for lobster despite never learning your lesson. And check.”

“It was worth it!” Sam squawked. “It was delicious! Also: check mate!” The pawn she’d been nudging forward that her father ignored got promoted to a rook and was now perfectly positioned to box in his king. 

Geoffrey stared at the change of fortune, dismayed and swaying a little in his chair. The shots were clearly taking hold. He tipped his king over in surrender, bowed his head at his daughter, and grabbed the topmost gulab jamun. 

Samantha joined him with a second ball, the syrup coating dripping slightly. They raised their desserts in salute before taking a big bite.

Mouth full, Sam grinned up at Shepard who was standing next to her chair. “I had you there to rescue me, darling. I knew I’d be all right.”

“I hope that’s always the case,” Annelise smiled back as she kissed Sam’s forehead. 

Before she slowly dropped down to one knee.

#merweek2020 #mass effect relationship week #june 4 #shaynor #samantha traynor #femshep #samantha traynor x femshep #family #i petered out at the end #i'm tired #we are family prompt

[greensaplinggrace]

Barret Apocalypse AU Pt. 3

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 of Prompt: “Hello! This is kind of out there but I was wondering if you could do a post apocolypse au? With tons of Barret but not very shippy. With lots of found family though! Thanks” ~ @eilesgiire

CAN BE FOUND HERE ON AO3 - NOW COMPLETE!

Tifa fights like Barret has never seen anyone fight before. Quick and vicious, fists and feet and violence. With cool precision and a fluidity in every movement - creative and adaptable and intelligent. She flows like water and strikes like lightning and all Barret can do the first time she pulls on her gloves and beats a man to the ground is watch in frozen awe.

Until, of course, he’s forced to watch her back and shoot down those in the Cluster she isn’t already taking care of. 

He’d kept Marlene behind him the whole time, ready to take her and run if need be, but he’d stayed for Tifa. He’d fought for Tifa.

And Tifa had fought for him.

She’d fought for Marlene, too, and every day since then Marlene has looked at her like she hung the moon and the stars. Clinging to her and asking for stories - helping Tifa clean up around camp and cook dinner when it’s her turn, mellow and soft in the light of the stove as the sun sets behind them.

Tifa fills up the empty spaces of Barret’s life and more. With reliable efficiency and a keen loyalty, but most all with her kindness and her passion. Her fire and her loyalty and the gentleness of her touch when she carries Marlene. The softness of her smile and the light of her laugh and the compassionate lull of her silence when they sit together, just the two of them, late into the calm of the night.

Tifa saves him in many ways. She saves him from driving himself to the ground protecting his daughter. She saves him from having to be alone - from fighting a one man battle against the world with a child at his back. Tifa saves him in other ways, too. With furious fists and keen eyes, fighting off the monsters of the night and bringing home supplies he could never have uncovered on his own. But mostly she saves him by just being there and being herself. Always.

Tifa stays for many years after he helps her, through trials and victories and losses - through it all. And every second of every day after he saves her, she saves him right back.

---

Barret returns from patrol to a spread of food in the middle of camp, Tifa sitting on her knees by their makeshift kitchen as she rummages through bags of food. Marlene is perched nearby on a horizontal log, kicking her legs as she watches with childlike fascination. Barret stays silent for a moment to watch them, Tifa glancing up to nod at him in greeting before returning to her work.

“What do you think?” she finally hums, “Sandwiches and fruit salad?”

“What kinda sandwiches?” Marlene asks, high and sweet as she tilts her head at Tifa, and Barret can’t help the warmth of adoration when he sees her wide eyed curiosity. He settles his bag of car parts at the base of a nearby tree and wanders further into the clearing.

“Hmm...how about...peanut butter and jelly!” Tifa waves the can of peanut butter at her invitingly, but Marlene only makes an exaggerated face of disgust. Tifa remains entirely unfazed by the rejection, merely chuckling and setting it aside to rummage through the bags again. “I thought you liked peanut butter.”

“I did, but not anymore! It’s gross and it makes my mouth all sticky.” 

“Okay...chicken and tomatoes, then. With white cheddar cheese…and avocado!” Tifa holds up the green food triumphantly to Marlen’s wild cheer. She smiles fondly as she sets it aside, sharing a look with Barret over Marlene’s head. He huffs out a laugh and sets the rest of his supplies at the edge of his tent.

“Yeah!” Marlene exclaims excitedly, practically vibrating in her seat now, “Sandwiches and fruit salad! What’s in the salad, Auntie Tifa?”

Tifa casts a sideways smirk at Marlene as she leans over her supplies and starts to gather what she needs. “That’s a secret,” she tuts, “now go play with Daddy while I make this.”

Marlene’s gasp is so loud it could wake the dead, and Barret finally lets out a full bellied laugh as she wheels around to face him. “Daddy!” she yells, teetering on the log with the force of her momentum, “I knew you’d be back soon!”

He catches her before she can fall, setting a large hand on her shoulder and getting to his knees in front of her. “Well, you’ve always been the smartest of us,” he says, accepting her into a one armed hug, “and apparently the pickiest!”

“Peanut butter isn’t yummy anymore,” she huffs as she pouts against his chest, and he snorts. 

“That’s okay, we’ll just find you something better.” He takes her up in his arm, lifting her until she’s propped up on his shoulder. “Now, what happened while I was away?”

Marlene chats for a half hour about catching bugs and trying on dresses, how she and Tifa explored the river and raced boats down the stream, and not once does she mention trouble or danger. Not once does she cry or pause to look sad, barely hanging on to that thread of innocence and joy.

Nothing happened, she says, except that she had fun. Lived her life. Talked with Tifa and ran around camp in a frenzy after having chocolate. Nothing bad happened at all, and that’s more than a blessing. It’s more than he could ever put a name to.

He thinks things might just be starting to look up for them.

---

Losing his prosthetic is nowhere near losing his real arm, but damn if it doesn hurt like a sonofabitch. It stings with pain and lights up at the worst of times, and when he finally goes to remove it he can only take away so many pieces to relieve the misery. The base isn’t something he can just remove, especially now that part of it has been damaged. So they’re down one gun and they’re down one arm, and to make matters worse, the rest of the prosthetic is quickly becoming a liability.

And of course, their truck is gone as well, because Barret had trusted the wrong damn person at the wrong damn time, and he knows he has nobody to blame but himself. Tifa feels mighty guilty about it in the aftermath, citing the fight they’d had and her defense of the SOLDIER, but he knows she was only trying to support him. Knows she was only trying to make good of a fucked up situation in any way she could.

He’d made a mistake. He’d made many mistakes that day, but that one stings the worst. It stings the most when his arm is stinging too, though, and he remembers all he sacrificed. 

Barret vows that the next time he lays eyes on that arrogant piece of shit, there will be no benefit of doubt. Cloud will never see the light of day again.

So he’d better stay far, far away.

---

Cloud does not stay far away. 

He doesn’t even stay inches away, because that would be too good - it would be too easy.

No, the next time Barret sees Cloud, he’s trapped in one of the stores at the center of a mall, back to a checkout counter and counting the bullets of his handgun. A crash rings out, high and ear splitting as one of the display windows shatters beneath a heavy force, and then he’s tumbling over the counter and into Barret’s space before he can so much as shout in surprise. Plopping down right next to him, winded and scrambling to regain his footing, until the frantic turn of his head finally sets his sights on Barret.

They both freeze.

Barret’s growling at the mere sight of him, teeth clenched and five second away from firing, when the kid actually scoffs and turns his head away.

“Save it until we’re somewhere safe.”

“‘Scuse me?!”

“We need to get out of here first. Your grudge can wait.”

Barret laughs at the sheer audacity of this kid. “I ain’t workin’ side by side with the man who treated my family like dirt and then stole my damn truck!”

“Then you’ll die.” He doesn’t even flinch when he says it, expression the blank, unfeeling mask he’d been trying so hard for back at camp. Acting as if he’s recovered already; as if nothing had happened. 

As if he hadn’t been laid up and grieving the loss of his friend not two months ago.

Barret has to use every piece of willpower he’s got left to keep himself from exploding in frustration.

“I ain’t gonna die ‘cause I actually know what the hell I’m doing. Last time I checked, you were the one on death’s door.” He regrets bringing it up almost as much as he feels vindictively pleased with doing so, and the way Cloud’s lips thin, shoulders tightening, is both relieving and distressing all at once. 

Gaia, what the hell is he doing? 

He needs to get home to his family.

“Alright.” He swallows his pride. Three bullets and one arm. He’s been trapped back here for almost an hour now with the infected, unmoving and endlessly persistent. “You got a plan?”

Cloud’s face softens for a moment in surprise, and Barret feels a hint of triumph at the expression as the kid’s cheeks light with a blush and he turns away again. So much for Mr. Stoic.

While Barret waits for Cloud to speak he lets his head back back, counting out his breaths and pumping himself up for whatever they’re about to do. Then he launches himself up to peak over the counter for a second, eyeing the horde of infected through the three remaining glass windows. When he falls back to the ground he exhales loudly, grinning over at Cloud. 

“Whoo! Yeah, we can do this! So what- what’ve you got in mind? You hack and I shoot? Maybe we can give them the runaround and take ‘em from behind?”

There’s a beat of silence, Cloud staring at him with an indecipherable expression as he fingers the hilt of his blade. He frowns, shaking his head and peering around the open end of the counter.

“That could work.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

The kid juts out his chin, puffing up. “It means it could work.”

“Well, you’ve got a plan, right?”

A silence descends between them, as Barret’s hopeful expression slowly drops away and Cloud’s shifting becomes more agitated. Until finally, Cloud admits reluctantly, “I’m working on it.”

“You can’t be serious! You were the one pushing for us to work together. I thought you had something in mind.”

“Because I thought you had a plan!”

“I’ve been trapped here for an hour. If I had a plan, I wouldn’t be here.”

“You’re the leader of a gang. I thought you were supposed to be good at this?”

Barret feels like he’s just entered the twilight zone, casting the kid an incredulous look. “I ain’t the leader of shit! What gave you that impression?”

That makes Cloud falter, his mask shifting to reveal a brief flash of confusion, brow furrowing a centimeter in thought, before it all smoothes over again. 

Gaia, but that’s annoying as shit.

And all Barret can do is watch as his expression morphs into something cool and reserved, head turning to peer around the counter again in order to consider their options of escape. There’s something analytical there, now. Something more self reliant and less trusting that has Barret feeling like he’s failed.

Barret pushes it all from his mind, sighing and closing his eyes as he breathes rhythmically to calm himself. When he opens them again he gives the kid a long, assessing look and notices what he hadn’t taken the time to notice before.

Cloud looks exhausted. Hair longer than it had been - greasier and dirtier and still flecked with dried blood. It looks like he’s washed up at least once since they’d last met, but he’s clearly been busy. There are new bruises on his arms and a trio of cuts running down his left cheek. His outfit’s been changed, Barret notices, but it’s still a SOLDIER’s uniform. A thick turtleneck with a padded waistguard and loose pants. 

Barret isn’t too sure about the shoulder pad studded in nails or the wrist guards holding the same design. It looks like the modern scrap metal crafting members of Camps or Mobs tend to sport.

“The hell are you even doing here, anyway?” Barret can’t help asking, frowning at the fresh materia loaded in Cloud’s sword.

He hopes to high hell that the stupid punk hasn’t joined a Mob.

“I’m on a job.”

“Jobs are out in the apocalypse, in case you hadn’t heard.”

Cloud gives him a scathingly unimpressed look. “Camps still need certain supplies,” he says, after he breaks away to look outside the store again, “I happen to need different supplies. We make it work.”

“You’re a mercenary?!” Taking advantage of citizens in need to further his own interests. Barret should have known. Hell, the kid had taken his truck and left without even a word of goodbye.

“I’m guessing you don’t agree.”

“I think it’s the type of bottom feeding shit you’d get from Mobs and Syndicates,” Barret snaps, eyes narrowing, “but I don’t know what I expected out of a former SOLDIER.”

“Guess you know me as well as you thought you did,” Cloud hums, and the dryness of his tone makes Barret’s hackles rise.

“Do you even give one shit about the people around you?”

Cloud doesn’t even respond to that. He only tenses and tilts his head back, bringing his sword into a ready position at his side. 

“More are coming,” he breathes, the sound of his voice echoing in the dark corners of the store. The howling outside their windows becomes almost deafening with a thunder of footsteps and falling bodies, and Barret straightens as well. “We need to leave.”

“Got any ideas, smartass?”

Cloud doesn’t answer, gaze flitting about for a solution, but Barret knows he’ll find none. He’s spent the last hour checking every possible crevice of this building for a way out.

“What about the way you came in? That window was separate from the other ones, right? You’d have to come in from the top.” 

The fourth window had been blocked on all sides by solid scaffolding, it had been impossible to enter through. Which is the only reason Barret’s certain the infected hadn’t piled over the busted window after Cloud came inside. He’s still not sure how the hell the merc had managed to do that, but maybe he could somehow reverse it.

Unfortunately, the entire world seems to be against them today.

Cloud shakes his head. “That’s not happening,” he says, voice chillingly calm, and Barret’s blood runs cold, “walls were just shredded.”

“Shit! You can’t be-” A reverberating crack! rips through his sentence before can finish speaking, and the rise of screams as glass starts breaking has him shooting to his feet alongside Cloud.

There’s a beat when he sees the infected - dozens of them - down the sights of his gun. Cloud tensing beside him, sword raised as they spill into the store in droves, and Barret knows they aren’t going to make it out of this alive. A cacophony of moans and snarling as demented forms tear over the ground and start at them.

And then there’s another crack that splits the air, a rush of fire and debris that has Barret dropping in a second - hooking an arm around Cloud and throwing them both to the ground as a burst of heat rushes through the air above them. The concussive blast has a wave of force following not long after, tinged with red hot sparks and accompanied by the sounds of shattering glassware. 

Barret makes sure to press himself over the entirety of Cloud’s body when the shards start raining down on them, the hairs on the back of his arm burning when he curls it over his neck to protect himself. He doesn’t move - not for anything - while the fury rages on around them.

Then the explosion ends, as quick and loud as it had begun, with a vorping rush and crumbling walls. Yet even as it dies the noises don’t. 

Flames crackle loudly throughout the store, above them and beside them and all around them. A lull in the chaos replaced by the lingering presence of destruction. It takes Barret a second to catch up, blinking through the burn of smoke and wincing at the sting of glass along his back, and in that time a strong grip comes to tighten around his arm. 

The hand is small, barely able to fully wrap around his wrist. Gloved and inhumanely bruising as the body beneath him twists out from under them and hauls them both to their feet. Cloud cuts down one of the flaming, screaming infected near them with brutal efficiency and tugs violently at Barret to get him moving, sword raised as if he’s about to charge the whole damn store.

“We’ve got to move!” Cloud shouts over the din of noise, and Barret growls in annoyance, yanking his arm away with such force it briefly unbalances the merc.

“Yeah, yeah. I got the damn memo.” 

Despite his better judgement, Barret lets Cloud take the lead. He reserves the last of his ammo for an emergency, instead keeping a look out for any surprises as the merc makes a beeline straight for the doors. He hacks at any flailing limbs that even think to come their way, but in all honestly there aren’t many left. Enough to warrant some level of concern, Barret supposes, but he steps over charred remains by the dozens as he crosses to the other side of the room. 

It seems as if the bomb was thrown right in the center of the horde, with most infected burnt to barely recognizable crisps. Someone had deliberately taken them out. 

Whoever they are, they’re a hell of a bomb maker, but he wonders if they’d even known people were inside the building.

When Cloud reaches the door, Barret lays a hand on his shoulder and pulls him back, stepping forward to check out any possible threats that may be lingering in the mall center. 

There are more infected scattered about the area. Nearer to the center of the blast, the bodies are burnt and blackened, but along the edges of the horde he starts to notice the sprawling ragdoll effect of an infected shot through the head. Pools of blood spread out from those bodies, but the spatter is too indistinct for Barret to make out where the attacks came from.

“Do you see them?” Cloud asks lowly. He presses against Barret’s forearm as if to take the lead again, and Barret doesn’t relent an inch as he glares the kid into retreating behind his back.

“Settle down,” he hisses, “let me-”

“Oh hey!” It’s a woman’s voice, ringing out across from them along the upper levels, and Barret immediately snaps his gun towards the source of the noise, feeling Cloud tense against him in preparation. 

“Hey!” The woman cheers, waving her arm in the air as she jumps up and down. Barret squints over at her and tries to get a good look through the dirty glass railing, but all he sees is bouncing brown hair in a ponytail and shining metal armor.

She doesn’t sound like a threat, but she’s certainly dressed like one.

Barret prepares himself to speak, keeping his gun levelled with what he can make of her head, but before he can another voice sounds out from above them.

“What are you yelling at, Jessie? Did you mess up the bomb again?” It’s a man’s voice this time - deep and edged in humor - with just enough information to make Barret that much warier of the bouncing brunette. Not to mention the steadily growing number of people. If there are two, there can be more, and Barret’s beginning to worry that they may have just jumped from the frying pan and into the fire.

Jessie makes a sound of frustration, tsking so loudly it can be heard across the room, and points down at them in a way that has Barret about ready to fire. “No, Biggs! There were people inside!”

“Oh god, there were people?!” Another voice frets, and Barret worriedly places him on the same level as them - on the same side of the building as them - with the sudden knowledge that they are now outnumbered. He has no idea if they’re outmatched. He’s never heard of these people in his life.

He lowers his arm as he circles carefully to the edge of the doorway, standing just outside of it to allow Cloud through. He nods in the direction of the one closest to them as he keeps an eye on the woman.

“Are they okay?” The nervous one says. “Did we kill them? Oh Gaia.”

Barret snorts at the other man’s tone, the tension in his shoulders loosening slightly at the obvious worry. He can hope these are good people who’d made an honest mistake, but it’s best to be wary until he’s sure.

“No, we definitely didn’t kill them,” Jessie says, her enthusiasm waning as she speaks, “but they don’t look too friendly either.”

“We’re friendly enough,” Barret finally says, tone casual even as he keeps the gun on her, “but we did almost get burnt to crisps, so forgive me if I’m not exactly falling into your arms.”

“I didn’t mean to hurt anybody. I’m so sorry!” Jessie calls down to them, and damn if she doesn’t sound it. Barret loosens a bit more, gun dipping in a show of peace.

“It’s fine. Barely got a scratch.” 

“Well, at least we didn’t commit murder,” the man above them says drily, and Barret can’t believe his ears when Cloud huffs out what must be a laugh beside him.

“There’s always a second time,” he deadpans, unfazed by Barret’s glare.

The man barks out a laugh in response, leaning over the railing to see them better, and when Barret notices his head poking out he steps further into the mall center to get a better look at the whole group. 

None of them have their weapons readied, or appear remotely violent. The one above them is grinning and Jessie has been nothing but cheerful. So Barret makes a decision. Still eyeing them all warily, he lowers his gun fully.

Cloud quirks a brow when he does so, letting the tip of his sword drop to the ground as well, but he doesn’t offer up any other fascinating pieces of commentary. Apparently the wisecracks are only for special occasions.

Barret looks up at the two strangers again. “Who the hell are you people?”

“Oh! I’m Biggs,” the man above them says, pointing a thumb at his chest and nodding. “That one over there is Jessie, in case you didn’t hear. And that’s Wedge!” He points over to the third member a short distance away, who’s gathered the courage to come out into full view from around the corner. Wedge waves over at them with a smile, and Barret will be damned if these people aren’t the cheeriest motherfuckers in the world right now. 

Of course, that thought is proved wrong not two seconds later when Jessie’s voice rings out nervous and worried through the air. “Hey guys? I’m seeing some movement up here and down the hallways. Maybe we should take this outside.”

“Explosion was bound to draw other infected,” Barret snorts, “did you guys plan this at all?”

“We planned it enough!” Jessie huffs, moving away from the railing to head toward the stairs, “we were just here to test-”

She cuts herself off with a high, startled gasp as a guttural howl tears through the air. The next moment has her teammates crying out as her upper body collides brutally with the railing, hand hitting the hard glass hard enough to jar the gun from her fingers, and it falls the long distance to the floor with a clatter.

Then Barret’s moving, as Biggs races to help his friend and Jessie scrambles at the slick glass to brace herself, kicking at the infected behind her. It claws up her back and raises its head, jaws stretched wide, and Barret curses, firing a round into it without hesitation. 

It’s throat explodes in a spatter of blood, and Jessie gasps when it’s hold only tightens. The thing lets out a keening noise as it thrashes, practically throwing Jessie through the air, and even as Barret puts another bullet straight into its head he knows it won’t be enough.

“Jessie!” Biggs skids to a stop at the railing just as she tumbles over the edge, and Barret doesn’t stop for a second to think before he’s charging across the room. He drops his gun and slides beneath her just in time to feel the brunt of her weight. Catching her around the waist with one arm and feeling her head whip violently back into his chest as he allows himself to drop to the floor and soften her fall.

The collision knocks the breath from his lungs and sends a flare of pain down his back, but all he can do is let out a sigh of relief at the very alive woman in his arms right now. 

That had been way too close.

“Oh Gaia! Oh- Jessie!” There’s a rush of steps as Wedge runs over to them, and Jessie groans in response.

“It’s fine, Wedge,” she says, voice strained, “I’ve only broken every bone in my body.”

Wedge lets out a relieved breath, helping to pull her to feet as Barret pushes her upright.

“Whoo!” She breathes, jumping and shaking out her arms before turning to give him a big smile and a playful wink. “That was some fall. Luckily I had my hero here to save me, huh?”

“You’re lucky he was there, Jessie,” Biggs says, thumping down the steps and coming up to them as well, “otherwise you’d be paste.”

He grabs her arm and pulls her into a hug, and Barret chuckles as he pushes himself to his feet as well.

“Glad I could help, but it looks like you’ve got quite the set of friends here. They’d’ve found a way to save you.”

Wedge gives him a grateful smile, but Barret can see the beginnings of a guilt he knows all too well. He pats a comforting hand on the guy’s shoulder and nods. 

“You did good.”

“We all did good!”

“That’s cute and all, but we really should get going,” Cloud's voice cuts through the cheer like a knife, and Barret turns to see him coming up beside them with his sword at the ready. He looks unconcerned with the situation, but Barret notices him casting about for potential threats. His eyes linger on a group of infected meandering over from one of the halls, and when he sees Barret looking he nods at them.

“Yeah, I see it. Shit.” Barret runs a hand through his hair and bends to pick up Jessie’s gun first, handing it over to her before equipping his own.

It slides through her fingers like it’s the most natural thing in the world, and her grip tightens around the handle as she grins at them both. “That’s no problem! We know a way out.”

“A way that isn’t riddled with zombies?” Cloud asks, pointing down another hallway. The area is slowly filling with infected, and Barret herds the group closer together. 

Cloud stands apart from them, eyeing the infected approaching them with unusual gusto. 

“Have a little faith, man! Wedge is the best at this kind of thing.”

“Yeah, I’ve already got a route.”

“Then use it,” Cloud snaps.

Wedge yelps. “Y-yeah. Yeah! Come on.”

With surprising speed and efficiency, he’s turning to head down the nearest hall, Jessie and Biggs immediately following behind him and waving Barret along. The easy way they all carry out the plan is impressive, and Barret takes up the rear without question, determined to get these people out of here alive. 

What’s truly surprising, however, is the way Cloud lingers behind, another hand coming down to grip his sword as he turns to jog toward the nearest horde.

“I’ve got your backs,” he calls after them, “don’t wait up.”

“Then I’m staying too! I’ll cover you.”

“Don’t bother.”

The cold dismissal has Barret’s chest heating with anger, but he knows the merc is right. At this point, he’d be more of a liability than an asset.

“You’d best meet us at the front entrance, SOLDIER boy!” He makes it sound like an order, but knowing Cloud it probably means he’ll do the exact opposite.

“Good luck!” Jessie throws behind her with a small wave, accentuated by Biggs’s own cursory thumbs up, and all Barret hears is Cloud’s grunt of acknowledgement before they’re turning the corner and leaving him in the dust.

Winding through the building after that is a strange affair. The group he’s met are all talkers, chatting excitedly and bickering even in the midst of danger. They’re good shots, too. Biggs and Jessie especially, who take up attacking at a distance while Wedge focuses on navigating.

They’re quick with their words and quick on their feet, but it’s still a shock to the whole group when an infected lunges from a nearby store and latches onto Wedge with a scream. Biggs shouts and staggers back, foot caught in the clawing grip of one they’d thought they downed, and within a matter of seconds the comfortable solitude of their journey is destroyed.

Barret reacts in a flash, shooting the one on Wedge in a throwaway attack, splintering the infected’s jaw with a sickening crack as he stomps on the one attached to Biggs with a roar. He hears a series of pops after that as Wedge gets the opportunity to down his attacker, and that’s when Barret sees more. Slinking from surrounding stories and halls, slithering along the floors with cracked nails and dripping mouths. Caging them in on all sides.

“Move! Damnit!”

More rounds are fired as the infected close in on them, Wedge spraying the front line in bullets as Jessie and Biggs take them out with headshots and busted kneecaps. An infected manages to get a hold of Barret’s arm as he tries bash in its skull with his gun, jaws opened wide as it lunges in for a bite, and for a moment the world stops. Thoughts of Marlene and home and failure burning through his mind until a sword is splitting its head in two, Cloud kicking the body aside as if it’s nothing. 

He grabs Barret by the shoulder as the shock fades and spins him to face the others. Then blows straight through the group to take the lead, slashing apart the infected blocking their path with an arc of fiery steel.

Gaia, Barret never thought he’d be so happy to see a SOLDIER in his life.

“Let’s mosey,” Cloud says, and for once the collected tone of his voice doesn’t set Barret off.

“You heard the merc! Move!”

Wedge doesn’t need to be told twice, rushing forward alongside Cloud as the SOLDIER continues to hack a path through the infected. Barret recovers rapidly, ushering Jessie and Biggs forward as they continue to focus on the infected at their sides. 

They turn the corner to see more infected crawling out of the woodworks, but Cloud is relentless and Barret is vicious, the rest of the group pushing forward with the type of determination Barret could only dream of, and for a second he thinks they might actually get out of this scott free.

Then Biggs cries out, folding at the knees as they all pass ahead, and Barret skids to stop. 

“Fuck!” The whole party starts to slow as they realize what happened.

“What do we do? Oh, shit!” Jessie panics, and Wedge shakes his head, firing another round into the front lines as he points down the hall.

“It’s down there,” he yells back at them, “we just need to move.”

Barret nods and turns on his heel, racing back to grab the other man before the infected get to him.

“Go on ahead!” He shouts back, waving them away as he comes to a skidding halt beside Biggs. He’s grateful when Cloud seems to take the order in stride, already circling around to hold the rear as Wedge reluctantly pushes on ahead.

“Just leave me,” Biggs hisses, clutching at the blood soaked remains of his pants. The cut he has along his lower leg is long and weeping, but there’s no way in hell Barret’s leaving him behind. “Please just-”

“Shut the hell up! Shit-” Barret scoops Biggs up and throws him over his shoulder, ignoring his cursing protests as he waves his broken arm at their exit. “-we’re all gonna make it out of this alive!”

He runs for the exit, seeing the rest of the group just beginning to gather outside.

“Heya Jessie!” He calls out, bursting through the doors just as they’re starting to close, “got any more of those bombs?”

The grin that lights up her face is absolutely wicked, and Barret steps back with the others as she grabs a grenade from her belt pouch and wings up. With a warcry of “watch the fuck out, bitches!” she launches it through the air.

The ensuing blast is enough to make them all turn away and shield their eyes, Barret realizing a bit too late that he’d lost his sunglasses somewhere along the way, and when they all turn to face each other again it’s with wide, triumphant grins. Wedge laughs as Jessie lets out a whoop, and Barret can feel the body on his shoulders loosen with relief. Cloud lingers at the outskirts, but he doesn’t look as put out as he usually does, mouth soft with the hint of a smile.

“Good job,” Barret says, “I ain’t never seen a better team in my life.”

“We’re a team, now?” Biggs asks, voice lilting and delirious, and Jessie gasps.

“We should be! Imagine what we could all do together.”

“I think that'd be pretty nice,” Wedge agrees.

Barret snorts, but he doesn’t deny it - can’t even say he doesn’t feel the same way. So he hefts Biggs further up on his shoulders and grins.

“I wouldn’t mind working with y’all again, but right now we should probably get him taken care of. How close is your camp?”

“Oh, uh…we don’t exactly have one…” Wedge laughs uneasily and fidgets, Jessie crossing her arms beside him.

“It’s because we just got here. We drove in from a nearby Camp and we haven’t had the chance to get settled.”

“But you did have the chance to test bombs.” Cloud doesn’t exactly sound sold, but Barret’s mind has already honed in on something else.

“Y’all got cars?” he asks excitedly, and at their nods he whoops, “aight! We’re headin’ back to my camp, and you can stay there for as long as you need!”

“You’re short on transport, huh?” Biggs sympathizes breathlessly, “we’re short on shelter. Maybe we can make this work.”

“We’re still lookin’ for a good house, but we’ve got tents and a decent cooking station, not to mention we’re well hidden from any Mobs.”

“You’ve already got me sold!” Jessie laughs, “follow me and we can load Biggs up.”

“Yeah…” Wedge says, tone worried, “he’s looking pretty out of it…”

Barret winces when he feels Biggs’ weight slacken completely, nodding at Jessie and Wedge to lead the way. 

“We should probably get going, then.”

Jessie and Wedge grin eagerly, already heading across the parking lot to their cars, and it takes Barret a good few steps to realize someone is missing. He sighs lengthily and turns around with a scowl.

“The hell you doin’ back there?”

Cloud only shrugs and walks over to a motorcycle parked not too far away. “Sorry, I’ve already got a ride.”

“Where the hell did you get a bike from?!”

Cloud hums and revs the engine, turning to look at Barret with raised eyebrows. “I sold your truck.”

“Wha-”

“It was a nice car, Barret. Shame you let it go!”

Then with a roar he’s peeling out of the parking lot, whipping around the bend of the building as Barret stares in open mouthed shock. It takes him a moment to realize what just happened, and when he does the rage that fills him is incandescent.

“Son of a bitch!”

---

Biggs, Wedge, and Jessie end up staying. 

It’s almost startling, how they fill up every space like they’ve never been anywhere else. Bundling their cars along the path and pouring from the doors to greet Tifa and Marlene. They’re quick to pull up tents and set up bags, divvying chores around camp with nothing but the barest minimum of playful complaints. 

By the end of the week it’s like camp has never been solemn and quiet, only broken occasionally by good cheer. Because now it’s wild laughter and at least one conversation going at all times, an energetic atmosphere that has Tifa letting the rest of her tension go and Marlene jumping around in the mornings, play fighting with Biggs and watching Jessie build her tools with burning curiosity, helping Wedge to cook and bonding with him over the animals in her picture books.

Jessie helps Barret with his arm, too, in an unexpected turn of events that has Barret almost wanting to cry, Marlene squealing with excitement beside him. Apparently, her and Biggs are both good enough with electronics to attach an advanced prosthetic, and capable enough to go out on their own one quiet night to find him a working one.

It’s a metal arm instead of a gun, but Barret couldn’t care less. They’d risked life and limb invading a rundown facility to bring it to him, and the level of devotion and care they put into removing the old painful pieces and putting in the new ones is enough to make him love them.

And Gaia, he really does love them all. Wedge with his faithful optimism and Biggs with his rough edged compassion and easy going nature. Jessie with her giggling mischief and boundless support for others. His family.

They stay a long time. They stay months. And it’s them that stay behind when Barret goes out with Tifa to find a home. Them that watch Marlene and take care of camp in his absence and them that help the group move into the house Barret finally finds, just at winter’s cusp.

When they all spill into every crook and cranny of their new building, claiming rooms as Tifa carries Marlene inside and Barret eagerly stocks the kitchen, he can’t help thinking that this time, things are really looking up for them.

This time, things have changed.

---

Their new home is a two story building. Solid and sturdy and located deep in the forest, with only a winding trail to lead them out. It’s what will keep them safe from the Mobs, Barret knows, but everybody takes to the clearing and the surrounding forest with especial interest.

Tifa takes up practicing her fighting out back. She sets up a punching bag in the basement but she hardly uses it, preferring to move under the light of the sun as she trains. It’s quite the spectacle. An easygoing, zen-like atmosphere that brings a comfortable blanket of warmth over the winter mornings.

Marlene especially loves Tifa’s practice sessions, and it’s one of the only ways Barret can get her to wake up on time now. She adores watching Tifa flow through her moves, and it soon becomes routine for her to sit outside and observe, wide eyed with awe and filled to brimming with questions. 

Tifa answers them all patiently, laughing along as she practically dances across their lawn, and sometimes Barret will sit too, just to enjoy the peace.

“You can practice as well, you know,” she tells him one day, brow furrowed in concentration as she drops to hold a particularly difficult position.

“What would I have to practice?”

“Daddy doesn’t know how to fight!”

Barret scoffs with offense. “I know plenty.”

Tifa laughs, shifting like water to pull up her leg and punch viciously at the air. “For your arm or your shooting! Maybe you could even practice wrestling.”

“Wrestling, huh?” he chuckles. 

She snorts. “You’ve got the build for it.”

“Suppose I do.”

“Everybody else has joined me before. Wedge has an exercise routine that he works through out here when he’s feeling confident, although I think he still mostly does it in the basement. Jessie fiddles with her bombs sometimes, but most of the time she’ll let me teach her some moves.”

“You offering lessons?”

“Only to those who want them. Biggs occasionally will, but he primarily comes out here to play with Marlene.”

“We’re reading Madeline! I almost know aaalll the words.”

“Is that so?”

“Uh-huh! Uncle Biggs says I’m the smartest little girl he’s ever met ever.”

“Well, of course he did. My angel could run the whole universe if she wanted to.”

Marlene giggles and blushes, scooching closer for a sideways hug as the conversation fades. The only sounds for a time are birds chirping and leaves rustling, Tifa’s breaths punching from the tight coil of her stomach as she moves, sweat glistening in the sun.

“I’m only saying…” she breathes after a time, “that you could get out of the house more.”

“This an intervention?”

“You’ve been a bit of a shut in lately, Barret. We’re all worried.”

It’s that feeling, the feeling of being worried about - of having people around to care what he does and how he acts - that pushes Barret to take up practicing as well. It’s melee fighting, mostly, and physical therapy with his new arm. Working over the throbbing aches in the muscle around the scarring that had gotten fried for months with small shocks.

By the middle of winter, Barret is thoroughly exhausted and pleased in a way he hasn’t been for years, at ease with his body and with his family. Spending time with Marlene in the comfort of knowing they’re safe and that she’s cared for - that she’ll be cared for no matter what happens. 

So winter passes without trouble. Soft and warm, despite the fall of snow, in the thick of his family and the feeling of being loved.

---

Springtime rolls around not with a bang but with a whimper. Sliding into their lives on cool breezes and bright, blooming flowers. Falling in on the roll of words and strange circumstances. Endless food supplies and restocked medicines and a new picture book appearing in Marlene’s hands that Barret’s swears he’s never seen before in his life.

He hears about Cloud before he sees him.

It happens first when he’s in the kitchen. The fruit bowl is full through no action of anybody in the house. Filled mysteriously for what has to be the fifth time that season, and finally Barret can’t take it anymore. So when Tifa passes through the room he takes the opportunity for what it is.

“Hey, Tifa!” He calls to get her attention, “we were out of pears two days ago, right?”

She stops and brushes the bangs from her eyes with a fond smile. “Oh yeah, Cloud brought some back after I told him we were out.”

Cloud? When the hell had Cloud come around?

How did he even find them?

“Why were you talkin’ with that thief? You know what he did, right?” Barret can count on one hand the amount of times Cloud has betrayed him, but it’s still too many.

Unfortunately, Tifa doesn’t seem to think so. “He isn’t doing any harm, Barret.” She rolls her eyes at his scowl. “It was just some supplies.”

“Did you pay him for them?” If Cloud has asked for a single cent off of Tifa, Barret’s going to put him so far underground he won’t ever see the light of day again.

“No, Barret,” she huffs, crossing her arms, “I didn’t even ask for them. Now leave Cloud alone.”

“If he wanted to be a damn decent person, the least he could do is be less of a coward about it and show his damn face!”

“If you want him to stay, you’re going to have to ask him yourself. I’ve already tried.”

She walks away after that, not at all fazed by Barret’s steaming indignation as he grinds into the empty air, “I don’t want him to stay!” 

He doesn’t.

Nobody answers.

Two days later, it’s Marlene who mentions him. She’s got another pretty coloring book and a new set of crayons, and Barret forgets for a moment about the whole fiasco until he asks her where she got them.

“Cloud gave them to me!” she exclaims excitedly, pulling open the pages to wave a tiny, shittily drawn pencil flower in his face.

“The hell is that?”

“A flower. Cloud drew it! We drew together!”

“You drew together?! When was this? How long did he stay?”

And how the hell hadn’t he noticed?

Marlene puffs up at the question, thinking long and hard before nodding decisively and saying, “Super long! It was like...an hour.”

“A whole hour? And this was all he drew? Baby, you got robbed.”

It takes an effort to remain lighthearted in the face of this intrusion, but Tifa’s right about nobody getting hurt, and Barret is loathe to see the smile fade from his little girl’s face.

“I told you he was family, Daddy.”

“Yeah…yeah, you did.”

Family doesn’t leave each other behind, though. And Cloud’s left them all twice now.

Unfortunately, the little snippets of conversation about Cloud don’t end there. First it’s Tifa and Marlene and then it’s crutches for Biggs and painkillers when Barret’s arm starts acting up, despite the fact that he’d never told a soul. Jessie rambles praises about Cloud’s skill out on missions and Wedge offers shy assertions of what Cloud is like as a friend.

It isn’t a lot. Doesn’t permeate their home or destroy the peace. Yet it still drives Barret mad. The entire team has seen or interacted with Cloud since he left. Everybody has spent time with him or talked to him in some small capacity.

Everybody but Barret.

“He’s got a pretty red scarf now,” Marlene tells him one day, as they’re out picking flowers for the dinner table, “and his clothes are all blue. I liked him better in black.” She makes a face and Barret can’t help but laugh, though there’s a weight settling in his gut that feels a lot like dissatisfaction.

“Well, maybe the next time I see him I’ll tell him he looks like a fool.”

“No!” she giggles, “you’ll make him sad!”

“If he can’t handle a little honest criticism, then maybe he deserves to be sad. Hell, his ego could probably use the reality check.”

Marlene hums. “What’s an ego?”

“It means you...well, having a big ego means that you think you’re better than everybody else. It makes you look down on other people and feel like you’re the most important.”

“Oh…” Marlene seems to mull this over for a moment, and Barret busies himself with finding the prettiest damn flowers in the clearing as he waits. Until finally she hums, biting her lip and toying with the ripped edges of the flower stems clumped in her fist. “I don’t think he’s like that, Daddy. I think he just wants to be liked.”

Barret snorts in disbelief. “Yeah, well he’s got a funny way of showing it.”

Marlene thinks for another second as she pulls up more flowers. “I like him,” she eventually says, small and uncertain, and Barret sighs.

“I do too,” he tells her, and the words feel too right on his tongue to be a lie, but he convinces himself of it anyway, “now let’s finish this up before everybody eats without us.”

The day ends on a peaceful note, with Marlene forgetting about the conservation and Barret pushing it to the back of his mind, but every so often the little things will bring it forward again. Small comments and throwaway lines. The house slowly filling with the presence of not six people, like he’d expected, but seven.

Except their seventh member isn’t there. And every day his presence lingers like a shadow instead of a light, Barret finds himself growing unhappier.

He doesn’t like the kid, but hell, he’d certainly appreciate having him around.

---

It’s a woman’s scream that changes things again. A woman’s scream that turns the world around, heard high and frightened over the boughs of the trees when Barret is out on patrol with Tifa. 

It’s the close vicinity to their home as well as the sheer terror in her voice that makes Barret come running, and he only shares a brief look with Tifa before they’re both tearing through the trees. Racing like a fire is licking at their heels as they burst abruptly through the treeline and come stumbling out into a clearing filled with infected.

Barret manages to skid to a halt nearer the trees, but Tifa flies a good few feet further before she tucks and rolls amidst the thick field of flowers and comes to a smooth stop. 

It’s the high, panicked shouts that has them both looking up to see a girl - large green eyes and soft brown ringlets - standing high on the peak of a boulder. She’s surrounded on all sides by a horde of infuriated infected, carrying a basket full of flowers and waving a staff at them with violent intent.

“Stay- Stay back!” She shuffles backwards and gasps when her foot slips, rocks crumbling beneath her weight. Within seconds Tifa is launching over to her, kicking the nearest infected in the head with such force it’s sent flying backwards.

“Don’t move!” she calls up to the girl, garnering her wide eyed attention, “stay right there and we’ll take care of this, okay?”

Barret nods and comes forward, pulling out his handgun to fire an ear splitting round into one that’s managed to crawl halfway up the boulder. It falls and crushes a good few of it’s friends, and the girl’s mouth quickly turns to an ‘o’ of awe as she watches Tifa punch another one straight to the ground.

“We got this taken care of,” he says, taking out a good ten more before reloading with rapid efficiency. 

Tifa’s a whirlwind of spins and kicks as she tears through the center of the horde, stopping at the base of the boulder for only a second to look up at the girl again, panting and brushing the hair from her eyes as she smiles softly. “You just worry about not fallin’ down, okay?” she says, voice warm.

“Okay…” the girl sighs dreamily, standing her staff upright and leaning on it to peer over the edge at Tifa, “my name’s Aerith.”

“Oh! Uh...nice to meet ya, Aerith. I’m Tifa and that’s Barret.”

Barret growls and shoots down another dozen, glowering at Tifa’s back. “Hey! Fight now, chat later, Prince Charming.”

“Right!” She high kicks an infected clean through the jaw and doesn’t even pause as she whirls around and drives her heel into another. “On it.”

Barret has to reload another time as Tifa covers herself, and she wastes no time in reducing the rest of the infected to a downed pile of bodies. He pops off the last remaining stragglers and heads over, holding out a hand to first grab Aerith’s basket and lower it to the ground. Then he raises his arm so Aerith can brace herself against him and slide down. 

“You’re going to be just fine,” he soothes as Tifa grabs her around the waist and lowers her the rest of the way, “barely a scratch on you.”

“Oh, I can take care of myself,” she sniffs, hefting her staff over her shoulder as she leans down to pick up her basket, “but the first twenty drained my mana quite unexpectedly. Usually I’ve got better stamina.”

“You’re a conjurer?” Barret asks, silently offering to take the basket from her as Tifa helps her across the pile of bodies. She hands it to him and nods with a sharp mhm!

“I’ve been using magic since I was a little girl. There are a lot of spellcasters now who’ve run dry, but the planet provides all the energy I need.”

“She does wonders for us everyday,” Barret agrees, cradling her flower basket gingerly. They cross the field slowly, with Aerith at first having trouble stumbling over the infected and later pausing to pick flowers at any given moment. 

“Why are you all the way out here, anyway?” Tifa asks her, bending down to pick some as well. She hands them to Aerith with a shy smile and Aerith plucks them from her fingers as if they’re made of spun gold.

“This area has the best flowers.” Aerith hums and tucks Tifa’s choice away behind her ear, holding the other out to Barret.

He chuckles and accepts it gracefully, doing the same with rising amusement as he watches the blush on Tifa’s face darken. 

“I’m- I’m sorry your spot got ruined,” she manages after a time, as they all come to a halt at the treeline, “we have another...another field full of flowers- closer to home.”

“You live around here?” Aerith asks, and Barret only feels the faintest hint of suspicion at the question, considering how sweetly it was asked and how strange the circumstances are. He doubts this girl has any ill will toward them.

“Yeah,” he says, “down by the river. It’s a bit of a clearing in the trees. Far enough away from the roads so we don’t run into trouble. We’ve got a few others there as well.”

Aerith’s smile turns painfully reminiscent, cheerful eyes going vacant with a painful memory. “I used to have a home like that,” she says lowly, looking down at her staff to play her fingers over the rough edges, “it was the most beautiful place I’d ever seen. Ringed in gardens and covered in nature’s love; the flowers went on for miles in every direction.”

“I’m sure your new home is just as lovely.”

“Oh, I don’t have a home anymore.”

Tifa hesitates, glancing over at Barret in question, and he nods. His heart already aches with Aerith’s solemnity, and he wishes for nothing more than to help her. 

“Would you like to come have dinner with us?” Tifa asks softly, grabbing Aerith lightly by the elbow. Her red eyes are tender as she catches Aerith’s own brilliant green, and she smiles with nothing but sweet compassion. “We’d love to have you.”

“It ain’t no nature’s lover, but it looks mighty fine, if I do say so myself,” Barret adds in. His heart lightens when he hears Aerith laugh, and they share a triumphant look over her head as Aerith straightens and pulls Tifa closer, jutting her chin in Barret’s direction.

“Lead the way, then. I’d love to see your home.”

So Barret leads the way. 

The conversation as they walk is mellow, not fraught with anything but the settle of indolent satisfaction, and they bask in each other’s company as they gather flowers on the path home.

Aerith beams when she sees their house, utterly delighted. She enters with awe and she sits at their table and she eats with enthusiasm, sharing stories with Barret’s family and never once finding fault in them. Afterward, flowers spread across the house throughout the evening’s waning glow. As she and Marlene work to place the brightly colored plants on every windowsill, giggling and talking about nature and magic and the flow of the universe, full and sated and happy.

Then it turns dark and the night falls too suddenly, so Barret offers for her to stay the night. She agrees to a chorus of cheers, Jessie snorting and throwing an arm around her shoulder as Biggs and Wedge fight to show off her room.

Barret watches it all happen from the kitchen, lingering by the sink to dry dishes as Tifa washes them.

“Do you think she’ll stay?” Tifa asks, in the quiet of the night with the gentle lull of voices not too far away.

Barret chuckles. “Oh yeah, she’ll stay.”

One night staying over turns to one more day turns to just one more night. On and on until they find that Aerith has, indeed, never left. 

And she never does, brightening their world that much more with her radiance.

---

There are some things about his family that Barret can’t fix. Things like Wedge’s insecurity and Tifa’s shy anxiety - Aerith’s stubborn independence and Jessie’s proactive dynamo and Biggs’s choice to put everybody else before himself. Things that tear them up inside and wring them out. Things that sometimes make them have bad days and good days. 

Things that sometimes bring them to him, no matter how much he knows and they know that he can’t do a thing about it.

“My father was in a coma,” Jessie tells him one day, completely out of the blue. She’s tinkering with a grenade and eyeing blueprints, body open and at ease, but there’s a tension in her shoulders, tongue peaking out between her teeth. “It was because of the mako in Shinra buildings. He’s been like that for years, he- was like that for years.”

“I’m sorry, Jessie.”

“Yeah? You’ve always hated Shinra. You probably would have hated my father for working for them.”

“That’s not true. I trusted them, too, and my home was destroyed because of my mistake,” he says softly, taking off his sunglasses to meet her eyes. She blinks over at him and he can see the jump in her shoulders, but when she looks back down at her work again she forces a smile.

“Guess we both got taken in by the big shiny slogan, huh?”

“Yeah.” It isn’t enough, Barret knows. It will never be enough. So he lets the silence fall as they work, and Jessie opens up again only a few minutes later.

“My mother used to cook these big meals, and she’d always leave the light on in case I ever returned home, but...I rarely did.” She pauses and lets a smaller, more solemn smile settle on her lips, and despite the fact that it’s that much sadder, Barret’s relieved to see that it’s a genuine display. 

“Wedge would have loved her cooking,” Jessie says with a chuckle, “you all probably would. Bunch of starved barbarians.”

Barret snorts out a laugh. “You can say that again.”

Another silence descends, thick with a mourning Barret doesn’t think Jessie’s let herself feel for a moment since this started, and he relaxes into a solid and supportive presence at her side; unmoving.

“I think I’d have liked to meet your mother,” he offers into the quiet, and Jessie smiles.

“Yeah, she’d have liked to meet you, too.”

Jessie...Jessie speaks. But nobody reacts the same to trauma and grief, and the others don’t speak so much as let it sink into their lives.

Wedge holds himself together differently than the rest. Always worried and endlessly kind, like a nerve exposed to the cruelty of the world. He’s stronger than most of them, Barret knows. He’s more powerful than he ever seems to realize. Yet there is nothing Barret can say to help him - no words that can break the cycle Wedge has trapped himself in - so Barret doesn’t use words. 

He uses action.

Every second of every day. Every time he sees Wedge succeed and power through. Every time he sees him fail and sink into depression. Every time Wedge does anything emotional or physical or just plain simple, Barret is there for him. With honest praise and constant check-ups, showing the man that he is loved and that he has friends.

It warms Barret when he sees the others doing the same, supporting Wedge through his trials and lifting him further when he flies - never giving up on him. 

There’s a stream of humor throughout as well. Biggs and Jessie’s understanding and respect masked as playful jabs. Laughter and claps on the shoulder and sideways hugs; Biggs using Wedge’s shoulder to walk as he rambles in his ear and Jessie making his favorite foods after a hard mission; Tifa sharing stories of her childhood with Wedge so he can do the same and Marlene drawing him pictures of flowers and hearts and heroic deeds. Even Aerith, new to their family and still finding where she fits, takes Wedge out with her to collect flowers and occasionally raid old homes for food. Barret doesn’t know what they talk about, but they both always come back looking lighter than when they’d left.

The team comes together with their own faults and their own troubles like broken glass, but they don’t scratch and they don’t break, and Barret has never been more proud to call these people his family.

Barret finds himself the closest with Tifa, though. Even as he settles contentedly into the swirling, chaotically unique lives of the people around him.

Tifa carries the world on her shoulders. Always tense and always angry; rage simmering beneath the surface of calm.

Barret gets that - he understands it.

Tifa’s close with everybody in their growing family - especially Aerith, once she pops into their lives -  but she spends the most time with Barret. It was them before anybody else, after all. Taking care of Marlene and fighting together. It had been Tifa’s heart of gold that had encouraged him to open his life to her and let her in. It had been her steady presence that had allowed him to let in others.

Barret loves this woman with his everything, almost as much as he loves Marlene.

So it hurts when one day, after a failed mission, skin littered in burns and cuts and fists clenched with a rage she could never safely release, she looks at him as if she’s failed him, too. As if she’s failed the world.

“I’m sorry, Barret,” she chokes out, “I’m-”

He catches her hand in his own and soothes the tension, tugging her forward until she’s pressed against his chest. When she doesn’t pull away he wraps his arms around her, cradling her as gently as he can, and sinks his fingers into her hair.

“You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“I do,” she cries, shoulders heaving and body quaking, and he gentles her with small movements, rubbing his thumb in light circles and shushing her softly. “I do, I’ve failed- so many people.”

“Not me,” he assures her, “never me. And never them.”

“We needed that-”

“Not at much as we need you. Never as much as we need you.”

It won’t fix anything. It never fixes anything. But he holds her as she cries and he lets her know she has a family, and he hopes it’s enough.

It was enough for him.

---

Marlene is able to make him crowns of real flowers, now that they have a true home. They’re picked wild from the forest every day, and when spring rolls into summer she finds daisies and leaves and little patches of thimbleweed to weave all kinds of accessories.

It’s a decent way to occupy her time, and Barret will often make crowns with her on the back porch when can. Sometimes they’ll watch Tifa practice when they do so. Sometimes they even get to see Biggs competing with Jessie or Aerith casting her spells. Most of the time, they try to do it around midday, when everybody is inside and it’s just the two of them, cheerful conversations at their back and the stretch of sunlit forest before them.

“Does the planet make flowers because they’re meant to be crowns?” Marlene asks on a particularly sunny day. It’s distracted and dim - a passing curiosity - but Barret answers anyway.

“The planet makes flowers because they help the world go round,” he tells her, “ and because they look beautiful.”

“She must work very hard.”

Barret chuckles and holds out his crown for her, waiting until she’s dipped her head with a beaming smile to put it on her.

“Yeah, angel,” he says eventually, tucking a strand of hair behind her ears. He lifts her chin to kiss her on the forehead and hums. “But it’s worth it to create such beauty in the world every day.”

“Does she ever get a break?” Marlene asks, eyes wide with worry as she peers up at him.

“Well, I’m sure she doesn’t see what she’s doing as work, baby. She takes care of us because she loves us, and because the world is hers.”

“Oh,” Marlene whispers, and he frowns in confusion as she turns her head to study her crown, fiddling with the small petals embedded throughout.

“What’s this about, baby?”

“Hm, nothing!” She gives him a big smile, full of a softness and an understanding he’s never seen in her eyes before today. She stands and rises on her toes to lift her crown to his head, then, sincere and sweet as honey, “I just think you’re a lot like the planet, Daddy.”

He blinks at her when she pats him on the head, crushing a stray few flowers by accident, before whirling around with a twirl of her pretty pink dress to head back inside. The door closes behind her with a thud, and Barret blinks again.

“‘Like the planet’, huh? Well shit,” he sighs, “least I don’t got mako in my veins.”

---

When Barret finally sees Cloud again, it’s almost a full year after they’d last spoken, and with only short anecdotes to let Barret know how the kid’s been doing in the interim, it’s no surprise that he almost doesn’t recognize Cloud when he lays eyes on him. Though when he does, he can’t say he’s overjoyed.

The first thing he notices is that Cloud’s got on the red scarf Marlene had mentioned, though it’s tattered and torn now, curling behind him in the light winds as he stands amidst the massacre of the infected all around him. It’s stark against the vivid blue of his outfit, but the browns in his boots and the leather straps criss crossing his chest tone the whole thing down a notch.

It’s still enough to make Barret squint in disbelief.

“The hell are you doin’ up here, merc?” he snaps, drawing the blonde’s attention to him in sharp assessment. The hard edges of Cloud’s expression fall away when he catches sight of Barret, though, eyes widening for a second in surprise before he’s recovering and pulling his mask back into place. 

Barret sighs. “Why are you so near to the city? Ya got a job in that hellhole? ‘Cause I can tell you right now that no amount of gil is worth it.”

Cloud blinks at him. “That’s really none of your business.”

“It is my business when I’ve got five people back at home worried about your hard boiled ass,” Barret growls, hackles rising at the tone.

Cloud only gives him a condescending once over, turning away in clear dismissal. “Then maybe you should worry less about others and more about yourself.”

Barret’s blood boils. “The hell did you say to me?!”

“Your sacrifice is award worthy, but nobody’s forcing you to bask in my presence. Leave if it bothers you.”

“What has gotten into you?”

“Exactly what you expected of a former SOLDIER, or don’t you remember?”

Barret frowns at that, gritting his teeth against a cutting response as he lets the merc sit on the words he’d just said. There’s a long silence, Cloud’s gaze flickering to Barret and then away, face still stoically neutral. He wavers for a split second, hand tightening around his sword, then swallows.

“...they killed Zack.”

“What, the SOLDIER?”

“My friend.” It’s a startling rebuke, but it isn’t waspish or clipped at all. Cloud sounds almost empty, teetering on the edge of some unnamed emotion, and Barret has the feeling that he’ll never see the kid again if he happens to fall in the wrong damn direction.

Why do I care?

“Are they inside the city?” 

For Tifa. And the others.

“No,” Cloud’s voice cracks on the word, composure crumbling for a second as he struggles to regain control, “they left- they-” His voice breaks again and he falls silent. His shoulders rise and his gloves strain in a death grip around the hilt of his sword, but he doesn’t say another word.

“Were you going to kill them?” Barret asks, worried more for Cloud than the assholes that had almost murdered him in cold blood. And hell, okay, so maybe Barret does like the merc after all, but nobody has to know that except him.

“I was going to avenge him,” Cloud says, voice almost a whisper. He looks down and burrows into his scarf, shoulders up to his ears with what has to be agonizing tension, and Barret approaches with slow steps as the kid begins to tremble.

“How were you going to do that?”

“By- I don’t know- I wanted to…” he swallows roughly, closing his eyes and wrapping both hands around the hilt of his sword. He brings it closer to his chest in the parody of a hug and casts a sideways glance at Barret again. His gaze is split open now, emotions a roiling mass of pain and misery, and he curls his entire body inward as if to protect himself from the world.

Barret’s heart pangs, throat closing in something like grief for a man he doesn’t even know, and watches as the strongest person he’s ever met crumples further with every second he’s left standing alone.

“There’s nothing wrong with wanting justice,” Barret tells him, stopping a short distance away, “You must have loved him a lot.”

Cloud nods, short and stilted, bringing the sword even closer as he speaks. “This was his,” he whispers, “it’s not- it’s not mine. I don’t know if I could...if I could kill them- with it.”

He says it like he’s ashamed, and Barret wants to tell him he doesn’t have to be - wants to say a dozen things he never could.

“He was a good man?” Barret asks in place of it all, “is that why?”

“Yeah.” Cloud’s voice cracks on the well of tears this time around, and he hisses as he runs a frustrated wrist over his cheeks, the smooth brown texture of his gloves only serving to smear it further across his face until he hides it in the crook of his arm for a moment, breaths short and panicked.

There’s a strong urge to pull Cloud into his arms as he watches the kid collapse in on himself, but he knows that wouldn't be a good idea. So Barret doesn’t move to touch Cloud at all, merely sliding forward a bit more on small steps. Settling on the ground as close as he dares in a spot not covered in dead bodies or blood.

“Tell me about him.”

The smile Cloud gives him is a bitter thing. “You sure you want to hear about a Shinra lapdog?”

“I’m sure I want to hear about your friend and a good man. Now sit, merc. I’d say you’re makin’ my back ache having to look up at you, but even sitting down, that doesn’t seem to be a problem.”

Cloud huffs out a laugh and wipes at his face again, and Barret studiously does not notice the complete break in facade as he slowly lowers himself to the ground.

There’s a long silence between them before Cloud starts to speak, but Barret is patient. When Cloud does speak, it's like an outpouring of information. Emotions detached in an obvious effort to remain impartial - even judgmental - and Barret wonders if the kid has had anybody to talk to about this since it happened.

He doubts it.

Asking Cloud to come home now would only push him further away, though, so Barret lets him speak and he lets him leave.

And Barret waits.

---

Cloud’s appearances around the house become more frequent, after that. They occur as often when Barret is around as when he isn’t, and Barret finds a sense of contentment in the way their family almost becomes whole every time. Even though he can see Tifa aching and Aerith slumping every time the kid leaves - can see Marlene sometimes sitting high on the rooftop to watch for his bike. 

Cloud’s absence always makes Jessie huffy. Always engenders a sad understanding in Biggs’s eyes, like he knows why Cloud does it and doesn’t like it. Wedge is always the only one that’s happy when Cloud leaves, merely pleased to have been able to spend time with him at all.

Barret watches their discontent grow with every passing day. Weeks turning to months turning to a whole year of this back and forth; one piece of their perfect puzzle always missing.

But Cloud gets better with every passing day the team gets worse. He’s recovering, Barret notices, in agonizingly short intervals. Careful, prodding steps instead of eager leaps, but it’s enough. And Barret watches the ratty red scarf and glaring blue outfit turn into another black ensemble. A high necked zip up shirt and a smooth leather shoulder pad. Rich black gloves and a well tailored sleeve. He watches as the battered, stumbling, sleep deprived, bruise eyed look becomes more stable and more healthy - more whole - and he feels proud.

The new look is strange, though, Barret can admit. When he asks Cloud about it he gets a sarcastic evasion, but when he asks Aerith she says he’s changed jobs.

“He does deliveries now,” she sings happily, “we’ve asked him to carry quite a few things to the nearest Camp.”

“So he’s quit being a merc?”

“No, he still does that too sometimes.”

Barret sighs. “What a bastard.”

But it means the kid is finally getting his shit together, so Barret doesn’t feel too bad.

The rest of the team starts to find a rhythm to their lives as well. There’s cooking and camaraderie and a simple domesticism, yet there’s also supply runs and near constant training. A restless energy that’s broken one day when Cloud makes his next visit.

It’s when they’re all in the house together for once, and he steps through the front door like he owns the damn place, offering them positions in a guild.

“They’ve got jobs,” he says, “gathering supplies for Camps and fighting off Clusters as charity work, all unpaid and free for those who need it. There’s even some more...difficult missions that involve espionage and- and taking down big Syndicates.”

“Shinra?” Barret’s the one to ask as everybody holds their breath behind him, and when Cloud nods in answer the tension in the room snaps with a rush of vindictive glee.

“Hell, yeah!” Jessie whoops, Biggs grinning beside her, and Barret notices Wedge looking just as pleased.

He can’t help but return the sentiment, laughing loudly. “Looks like they’re getting a whole host of new members!”

“It’s mostly going to be helping people, Barret,” Cloud reminds him, and Tifa nods.

“Let’s not forget the main objective here.”

“Oh, I won’t. This is just what we need, trust me.”

Cloud nods sharply. “Good, then I’ll deliver the message.”

Barret follows him out of the house and leaves the others behind, a question on the tip of his tongue that he can’t shake. Until Cloud sits on his bike, turning to say goodbye, and Barret asks it before he can convince himself otherwise. 

“You workin’ for them too, merc?” 

Cloud hesitates on the throttle, lips pursing for a second in thought. “I’m not a merc anymore,” he finally says, and that’s all the answer Barret needs.

“You’ve got a place here, Cloud. If you ever need it or want it.”

“...you’ve already got...something here.”

“Not without you we don’t. It’s killing Tifa, you not being here. And everybody else is miserable too.”

“And what-” he blushes and shifts, clearing his throat uncomfortably, “what about you?”

Under normal circumstances, Barret would be rolling his eyes at being forced to say it, but there’s something about the way it’s asked that makes him think Cloud hasn't been sticking around for one simple reason. It’s discomfiting in a number of ways - makes Barret feel like the biggest fool in the world - but he pushes that aside in favor of giving the kid a smile. An honest, caring smile that has him swallowing thickly and looking away.

“I want you here too, Cloud. We all want you here. You’re family and we miss you, okay?” Barret huffs and crosses his arms. “So don’t keep us waiting, you hear? We’ve waited long enough.”

Too damn long, if you ask Barret.

“Yeah, I’m...uh. I’ll have to think about it.”

Barret snorts. “‘Course you will.”

Cloud’s lips twitch with a smile, and he revs the engine loud enough to make Barret jump and scowl viciously. “I’m a hot commodity, Barret. I’ve got a lot of offers!”

“Offers, my ass! You ain’t a damn prostitute.”

Cloud, the complete and utter bastard, doesn’t even sate Barret’s curiosity with a response. before he’s leaving just as quickly as he’d come.

“Fucking smartass.”

---

In the end, their family comes together in a number of ways. Pieces Barret hadn’t even known were missing slotting into place like they were always meant to be there. 

Cloud comes home eventually, at the end of another long year, and during that time Barret finds a new purpose in a team dedicated to helping people. They fight a lot more now - entering dangerous situations and watching each other's backs. Yet he makes sure to always spend just as much time - if not more - at home with his little girl. 

Cloud gets on with Aerith and Tifa like oil on fire, and the trio quickly becomes inseparable. Likewise, Biggs, Jessie and Wedge seem to form an unbreakable bond as well, though the two groups mesh together whenever they can. Hanging out and laughing and lazing the days away just as much as they fight side by side and conquer any adversity that gets in their way.

Barret grows closer with all of them in ways he’d ever thought he could, and as the years pass their bonds only grow stronger. They take care of each other like a family should. Save each other like a family should.

And in the midst of an apocalypse, misery at the door and the world gone to ruin, Barret finds a haven in the people he’s gathered around him. Good people, he thinks, that he could never let go.

#barret wallace #dad barret #soft barret #fanfiction #marlene wallace #tifa lockhart #cloud strife #protective barret #ffvii #ff7 #remake #whump #hurt comfort #cloud strife needs a hug #barret wallace needs a hug #promptfills