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stsgooo · 3 months

Note

moonlit goddess.... maybe jinshi is wondering why his dear maid continues to pull away from him... and maybe gao shun lets it slip that "they shouldn't have been close that day anyway".... and jinshi pesters him until he folds n explains.... IDK I JUST WANT A HAPPY ENDING FOR THOSE TWO :((((( (not forced ofc!! i jus love ur writing!)

Bridge the Gap.

✩࿐ summary: life and death really makes a girl wonder.

warning(s): idiots in love, chapters 61-65 manga spoilers, master/servant like relationship, description of near drowning, suggestive content, ambiguous ending. wc; 9.3k

pairing(s): jinshi/fem!reader.

a/n: tysm for reading my fics means the world to hear ppl actually enjoy them, anon!!! ;') i wasn't really going to make a 2nd part of moonlight goddess as i thought it was okay to leave off there, but i love jinshi sooo i'll take any excuse to write him. this was initially going to be a part 2 of clumsiness, but i figured my plans worked better with what you were envisioning! im not entirely sure how to feel about this, but i hope this lives up to the standards! i apologize for any mistakes, this was written mostly in the early mornings when i had time!

part i. m.list

"Are you sure I'm not hurting you?"

"Y/N, please, stop asking me that."

"Oh, yes. My apologies, Jinshi-sama. Sorry."

This were, admittedly, not going well. Both of you soaked, hair dripping, and standing in the cave behind a rapid waterfall, and a dull ache in your chest as you recovered. Partly your fault, partly the fault of some crazed marksman that was hiding in the forest, trying to slaughter Jinshi and, by proxy, you.

To understand how you two ended up in this situation, we would have to back up a bit.

"Oh? Y/N, I didn't know you'd be attending this as well?"

"It was a last minute switch with Suiren and I."

"You... enjoy these hunts?"

"I've done everything I could to avoid them in the years past."

Your lack of excitement was apparent and clear. It appeared to bring no ease of mind to Maomao who dragged her rather disgusted eyes from you towards Gaoshun. The older man just kept his attention on the moving scenery outside, a distant glaze over his eyes.

Maomao obviously wasn't optimistic. Just like you. You were almost proud that she had caught on so easily.

The sweltering heat outside seemed to seep into the carriage, cooking you alive in your rather formal wear. Something that you were spotted in far and few, having been years that you truly cleaned yourself prim and proper. You had been on the edge of declining even going when Jinshi, with a grin and a certain glitter in his eyes, had too happily informed you that it was a direct invitation from Shishou.

Your fate had been sealed.

Maomao peeked at you from the corner of her eye, head tilted, "Do you mind me asking why you avoided these events?"

You don't even spare her a glance, "I fear if I spoke my honest opinion, I'd stain Jinshi-sama's reputable name with my foul mouth." You reply flatly in return.

"Please don't." Gaoshun said softly from his seat, looking particularly tired.

You decided to ignore the slump of Maomao's shoulders as if disappointed by the swift interruption and decline on Gaoshun's part. Turning your eyes towards the shifting world outside.

It'd been exactly five months since Jinshi had danced under the moon and you came to the conclusion that any impure thoughts you held for your master would be safely tucked away in the back of your mind (and heart). Forever your secret. Only to be heard in your dreams and upon your death, when you repent for any ill thoughts to the Great Man above.

Everything had returned to its normal routine. You would get up in the morning, prepare breakfast alongside Suiren, eat, then proceed with any chores the woman gave you for the rest of the day, then repeat. Equally, your relationship (or lack thereof) with Jinshi had remained the same. Conversations filled with pleasantries. Simple things that had always lingered between the two of you since you were children. Pleasant and simple. As the world shall ever be.

It got a bit ruffled with Jinshi had cornered you and practically ordered that you come to the hunt instead of Suiren.

In the middle of scrubbing away at the floors, he had found you. Stood above you with that grin, “Y/N, you’re one of my most loyal servants, hm?” He’d begun with an inflection in his tone that made you horribly hesitant.

You had faltered in your scrubbing to stare up at him with confusion, “Uh…well, I suppose, Jinshi-sam’s.”

“Why don’t you join me for the Hunt this up coming week?”

Your had heart dropped. And, by the look Gaoshun had dawned, his had too. The Hunt, in your humble opinion, was a glorified weekend for the men in high positions to rub one off while killing animals. It wasn’t something you found interesting in or much grace. That’s why you had declined Suiren’s question on whether or not you’d like to take her place only three days prior. You had no interest in watching anyone, even Jinshi, size each other up while a defenseless animal bled.

“Jinshi-sama, I believe Suiren—“

Ever the gentleman, he had cut you off, “No worries, Suiren agreed to take over matters while you’re gone! She’s the sweetest, right?” He had appeared all to eager and all too himself for you to ignore.

So, with a heavy heart, you’d sighed, accepting defeat and his invitation.

Now, you would find your torture for a multiple day retreat with a bunch of men with their c—

The carriage came to an abrupt halt, bringing an unruly end to your thoughts as you all carefully exited and were greeted by the sunshine. The humid air heavy with the condensation of the area and already making a sweat appear on your brow. But, ever the lady, you pleasantly tuck your hands into your sleeves and follow behind Gaoshun and Basen.

You were a little surprised as Maomao stuck closely to your side; but not all too surprised to find her attention on your surroundings, vague surprise in her eyes. The area was as equally as beautiful as it was a burden to you.

The buildings weren't anything for you to revel at. Spending an entire lifetime within palaces and in buildings as equally or above standard to those, it just wasn't anything special. The nature surrounding the area, however, was something to stare in awe at. Lucious trees, beautiful grass, and beautiful array of plants and flowers. It almost made you regret all the time you had spent away from this place.

But it wasn't like you had the chance to truly return since the last time you were here. Nothing could bring back that little girl.

You deterred your thoughts away as Gaoshun slid the door open. Immediately, you were hit with a wave of heat that you made you tense up. It was apparent that you wouldn't find your much needed cool down you were desperate to find since you were confined in the carriage days prior.

You were the last to enter and when you did, you faltered at the sight before you.

Jinshi was sprawled across the couch, wisps of his dark hair framed his sweat glistened face, eyes closed in contempt. A small dent appeared between his eyebrows and a frown adorned his face. However, your attention was caught on a drop of sweat that made its way from his hairline, down his cheek, his jaw, his long slender neck, and past his— his collar.

His modesty was of no worry, apparently, as he laid with his robes parted open to reveal his chest. Itself was glistening with sweat. Delicate skin on showcase for all to see. It brought a soft blush to your cheeks, as you blatantly ogled him. Pressing your lips together to contain whatever thoughts you had about him from burst from your seams.

"Y/N," Jinshi's voice hit your ears, tender and smooth. You're suddenly hyperaware that he's staring at you with raised brows, lids peeked open to stare at you.

You straighten your back and offer a bow, "Jinshi-sama. Do you require anything?" You had to get it together. It was inappropriate to behave in such a scandalous way. "Request for ice? Tea?"

Jinshi shook his head, sitting up, "No, rather I'd like for you to rest after such a long journey."

You falter, your arms wavering from their position in front of your face, "Uh.... Wouldn't the room be more tolerable with some ice?" You spare a glance around the room and grimace. The windows are shut tight, only bits of sun peeking through the cracks. Basen looks rather miserable, but trying to appear his usual stern self. While Gaoshun and Maomao seem rather okay with showcasing their small discontent with the heat. A nice cube would help at least cool down a bit.

You also couldn't stand another second seeing Jinshi like that. As if he were some type of nymph testing your faith.

"Really, it's fine—" Jinshi attempted, but you were already turning on your heel.

"I will return with ice." You didn't miss the way Jinshi's face fell and his eyes cut to Gaoshun who shook his head in return.

Your fast paced adventure led you to the main hall, where people were moving in and out. Various officers and servants filled the area, finding their rooms or helping their masters and fellow officers to their own rooms. Everyone appeared to be feeling the heat as they wiped their brows. Much like you, they appeared to be attempting to defeat the heat.

You found your way towards an attendant who helped you get something situated for Kousen. Something that brought you both distaste and irritation. Something to be addressed at a later time.

Joy filled you as you turned around, ice would soon be in the room and you could crowd around it like it was a new lover.

As you were about to make your way back to the room, you ran into someone.

You were about to apologize when they whirled around and you let out an audibly sigh that conveyed your unwavering exhaustion for them.

"Hey, watch where— Oh, hey, " Lihaku blinked, kind face twisted up in vague recognition. “You’re that lady-in-waiting. What are you doing out here?”

“I’m on loan from Jinshi-sama,” you answered rather flatly, not missing the small frown accompanying the man’s face.

You were vaguely familiar with Lihaku. What with Maomao getting involved in the problems within the inner and rear palace, you were bound to make new acquaintances when she was dragging you around. Lihaku was the first one you had ran into. On orders to accompany the girl from Suiren, you had gotten to see her investigative skills firsthand. You were impressed, surely, when she had made the discovery about the potatoes. But the impression was overshadowed by Lihaku, who had spent the entire time chatting your ear off.

He was kind, handsome, and smart when it called for it. But you could tell that, like most officers, he had an airheaded vibe to him. One that deterred you from making things too complicated with him.

Friendly enough, and one of the few people that didn't seem to disinterest Maomao, you accepted his very vague and shadowed feature in your life.

"Well, that's nice of him." He said, clearly disinterested in where this conversation was going. "I'm glad to see a friendly face, though."

You offered a small smile, "As am I. Not many kind faces around here often."

"You can say that again." You hear a loud inhuman snort and a tug on your gown, taking a large step back, you look down. A large dog with drool leaking out from the sides of its mouth stared back at you. "Oh, hey, boy, no!"

"O-Oh my." You uttered, slightly breathless as you looked at the large beast.

Lihaku glanced at you, offering a withering smile, "Eh, sorry, he gets excited around new people— not a great trait in a dog like this, you would think, but he's a real gem. Just has his moments. Hey, now—"

Lihaku pulled out something metal and brought it to his lips, then blew. It emitted little to no sound, at least, any you could truly hear, making your perk up when the dog tilted his head and sat respectfully before the officer. He blew again and the dog laid. Again, and the dog stood on all fours.

You smiled softly, watching in wonder as it obeyed whatever silent orders it was getting from Lihaku.

"He's very smart." You observed as the dog sat down again.

"Right?" Lihaku beamed, "I can get him to come running from kilometers away if need be."

"Useful when you're in a bind."

"For sure!" Lihaku's demeanor reminded you of a proud father as he puffed his chest and looked distastefully towards the cages lined up outside. "He's real smart, yet they still want to use those birds in the end."

You didn't want to point out the various problems that could come with using a dog; as there were probably another list of various pros to actually use the dog. The hawks had been used for years and you doubt that some dogs would be taking their place any time soon. It'd probably be a long time before these arrogant men came to their senses and found better means. Despite dogs being loyal and determined to their cause, the hawk would always be chosen.

Or, the better alternative, they didn't do this hunt anymore.

But you knew that was a longshot.

It wasn't long after that you bid Lihaku a farewell and good luck on his duties, making your way back to the room. You exchanged pleasant smiles and greetings with familiar faces, but nothing that kept you from relaxing much longer.

When you returned to the room, everyone had found their own areas and activities to occupy themselves. Gaoshun and Basen were playing Go near the windows, Maomao was reclining on the floor where a sliver or air was flowing through (from where, you weren't completely sure). Jinshi was back to sitting on the couch, a book in his hands. Something that was quickly disregarded as you gently closed the door behind you.

"The ice should be up soon." You informed the room with a respectful bow.

Jinshi didn't look at all interested, "What took you so long?" It sounded like contempt. Irritation if you had to really dig. Something that made you falter.

You look up and see the pout on his lips— childish, as always. "Oh, I'm sorry, Jinshi-sama. I happened to run into a friend and got caught up in conversation." You apologized softly. The last thing you wanted to do was bring him more annoyance and disturbance.

He straightened considerably, "A friend?"

You didn't like the way it was spoken. A touch of disbelief was enough for you to eye him with your own distaste. Even if you and Lihaku were nothing more than strangers with vague familiarity with one another.

"Yes, a friend." You confirmed with thin lips. Despite your inner voice telling you to reign in your attitude, you upturn your nose and decide to join Maomao— whose eyes were shooting between the both of you with trepidation and vague sympathy. "He was being kind."

Jinshi huffed, "I didn't know you had any secret friends."

"Not a secret. Just don't find any time to speak about it with you, Jinshi-sama."

That made the man falter, a darkened shadow over his face. "I suppose." He frowned heavily now, squinting at you with something unreadable. "Who is this friend of yours?"

You, finding no reason to lie, continued on, "Officer Lihaku."

In an instant, three heads snapped to you with varying degrees of emotions. Maomao looked shocked, but welcomed the information with a shrug. Gaoshun looked pale and overwrought, for whatever reason you weren't entirely sure, but you had an itching feeling it had to do with Jinshi.

The same Jinshi that was now face down on the couch, letting out a miserable sound. Speaking into the fabric of it all, unintelligiable. But you swore you heard something along the lines of— "that second rate, again?!" As he continued to rant and cry.

With that, you decided it best to not involve yourself with whatever Jinshi was battling. You wouldn't win anyway.

You'd always hated Kousen-sama.

He almost always seemed to loom in the shadows. An masked man who held no personality or words of his own. Pleasantries offered out of necessity and not because that was simply the right thing to do. He was mysterious. He hardly appeared, but he was always there. A reminder for what things would return to one odd day. A symbol for exactly where your loyalties and master lied.

Kousen-sama was to always appear before others with his mask on. To avoid them seeing the ghastly sight of scars and blemishes that adorned his skin because of his sickness (whatever that may be) and spare him the indecency of stares. He was unmoving. Stone amongst he lively environment that ate away at their lunches and softly conversed with one another.

Prince. The respectable Kousen-sama. The great son of the empire. The brave prince against all odds.

Oh, how much you hate Kousen-sama.

But you still had woken up early to help him pin his hair back. To slip his robes on. To delicately place the mask on, fingering the bangs out through the slits to allow some type of familiarity. You were his confidant. His reliable and kind servant.

As always, you and Basen stood behind Kousen-sama with your backs straight and eyes ahead. A pleasant servant on loan and stern guard, you both were familiar faces against the unrecognizable figure in front of you. It reminded the people exactly who was before them. Exactly who had decided to grace their presence.

Still, it brought you discomfort.

You still eyed Gaoshun in the corner of you eye. The older man sat at the other end of the table. Maomao standing behind him with a distant look in her eyes, obviously not paying attention to the things happening around her. Not entirely surprising, but you felt the overwhelming urge to scold her for her lack in etiquette.

Oh, you're starting to think like Suiren, aren't you?

Suddenly, Basen is tensing up beside you and Kousen-sama is turning his head away from a scowling Shishou. Your eyes snap between the two with a scowl of your own. Whatever that man had said—

Kousen-sama's hand clenches. So tightly that his knuckles turn white and he shakes. You know something isn't right. You had missed something. Something so obvious and you were too concerned about Gaoshun.

The man stands from his chair, the legs loudly clattering against the tiled and stone floor. You watch uneasily as Kousen-sama raises, takes a moment to collect himself, then practically speeds away from the room. You don't waste a moment to bring your sleeve covered hands to your mouth and make your own exit.

As you pass a concerned Maomao and Gaoshun, you hear a barely uttered whisper from the girl— heat. Food.

You try to hide your confusion and worry as you follow behind your master.

It doesn't take you long to find him.

Down the path, up against a tree, the masked figure was hunched and obviously breathing heavily. You draw closer, outstretching a hand to gently press it against the large expanse of his back.

"Kousen-sama, are you quite alright?" You ask softly, hunching slightly to capture a glimpse of his eyes from that slit in the fabric.

When you do, you're almost breathless. His violet eyes are alight with something distant and scornful. Eyebrows furrowed as he meets your own gaze.

"Y/N...?" He sounded vaguely surprised under it all, breathless himself. As if he couldn't quite believe that you were here in front of him.

You nod once, reaching out and grabbing ahold of one of the ties keeping the mask all together. "I'm going to remove this. No one is around."

His hand is suddenly wrapped around your wrist. Not tight or unrelenting, but enough to make you freeze. Warm and clammy skin against your own to make you feel scorched. You don't need to see his entire face to know that his jaw was clenched now.

"I can't," he said in all his self-assuredness, "Someone might still come."

What a pain. You thought to yourself as you draw in a heavy breath.

You don't waste a second to slip under his arm, wrapping it around your shoulders and allowing him to lean most of his weight against you. "No worries, sir, I'll just find us some place where no one else is around."

You gently guide Kousen-sama from the line of trees and deep within it. Finding an oddly familiar path created within your mind to follow that takes you towards an overflowing waterfall. A loud crash of water hitting the rocks and body of water below that brought you a distant sense of comfort. The refreshing smell of the water hits your nostrils and you take a deep breath.

With Kousen-sama against you, you felt the sweltering heat hit you tenfold. But the mist from the waterfall brushed against your skin like a gently caress from an old lover.

This is it.

You stumble over to one of the few trees next to the waterfall and gently guide Kousen-sama to sit up against it. The man took a heavy breath and you finally felt a little at ease. Reaching forward, you moved to take the cloth off once again and then—

A loud thud and chunks of dirt hit your cheek.

You frowned, looking to the ground only a could feet away and saw a small crater. A sharp smell filled your senses and you stiffened. It was an unkind and almost putrid scent. The smoke from the small crater was the main cause.

"Eh—?"

You were suddenly cut off as Kousen-sama wrapped his arms around you, jerking you upwards and away from the tree. You would've basked in the way his body was pressed against your back or the way his fingers seemed to mold into your abdomen— you would've if it weren't for the loud crack in the air then the pieces of bark that flew through the air around you.

The tree that he had been pressed up against only moments ago was now split open with a piece of metal imbedded into the wood. It looked eerily similar to the same that had been in the ground moments ago.

"Is that a feifa?!" His voice pierced through your thoughts, oddly frantic and uneasy as he moved quickly from the tree and towards the river.

You glanced up at him and found him already staring down at you. Eyes narrowed and, if it weren't for the mask, his entire face would be scrunched up in that familiar distaste and panic. Yet he seemed eerily calm as he dragged you through the trees and into the water.

"Sorry, but this is gonna get a bit dramatic." His voice was soft against your head, warm breath caressing your hair as he wraps a protective arm around your head.

Your eyebrows raise, "Dramatic— WHAT?" You should've known his tone and choice of his words were a warning for what was to come, but you were still caught off guard.

He gave no indication that he was going to jump off the cliff.

"Jinshi, you goddamn idiot!"

You mustn't get ideas above your station.

The water was oddly clear. Even with the mix of the overflowing waterfall, under it all was peaceful and calm. Fishes and water like insects lived in harmony.

Cool and calm. Always.

You are there to serve your master.

The little boy's head burst from the water with a big grin, short hair flat against his head and dripping. The sun reflecting off his violet eyes and almost blinded the little girl curled up on the side shore. Her face set into a scowl, clothes drenched, and a looming unimpressed older man behind her.

"It's so nice out, why don't you come in!" Beckoned the boy from the water.

The little girl shot him a nasty look, "You know why, you jerk!"

The boy's grin faltered, tilting his head at his friend, "Eh? Why are you being mean?" His voice wavered on the ends, still just floating in the middle of the basin.

"I'm not mean! You're mean! You're the biggest meanie!" The little girl stood up to throw an accusatory finger at the boy, her sleeve heavy and uncomfortable as she moved.

The boy's face reddened, eyebrows scrunched together, "I'm not mean! You're mean!" He repeated.

"No, you are! You're the biggest meanie in the whole wide world!"

"No, you are!"

"You are! You pushed me into the water!"

"You are! You should swim!"

"I hope you drown, meanie!"

The boy's expression fell completely. A heartbroken glint in his eyes flooding them. His lips trembled. But, before he could do something like cry, he was already swimming deeper

Nothing less, nothing more.

"Now, now," a large hand rested on the little girl's shoulder and gently tugged her back, turning her around to face the man. He seemed to be trying to appear as tender as he could to try calm down the girl's high nerves. "No need to get angry."

"But, Gaoshun—" The little girl whined.

Gaoshun shook his head, patting her shoulder, "No, we don't argue. Try to forgive and forget, yeah?" He reminded the lessons that he'd attempted multiple times to teach the two children. "No reason to walk around with resentment for others, right?"

The little girl scoffed her shoe against the ground, a pout on her lips, "Do I have to, Gaoshun?" She knew what this would call for. Exactly how this would end for her.

The man heaved a sigh, nodding, "Yes, you do. Now, go reconcile. I'll wait here."

The girl faltered as the man raised to his full height, cupping his hands behind his back. She dragged her feet through the soft soil and found her way towards the boy once more. He was grasping onto the edge of the bank, sniffling and snorting. His shoulders shook and his face was stuffed into his arms.

The little girl frowned. "Um... Are you okay?"

The boy stiffened, not turning around as he answered, "No."

"I'm sorry, I said something real mean." The little girl uttered, stepping closer as she clutched her wet clothes. "I just... You pushed me into the water, I can't..."

"I thought you were my friend!" The little boy whirled around on her, face red and eyes filled with big tears. He looked enraged but incredibly disheartened. The girl blinks in return as the boy glares. "You say such mean things to me. Friends aren't supposed to be mean!"

The girl clenched her jaw, "You were mean to me first!" She accused.

The boy sniffled, wiping under his nose with his forearm. "You're my friend." He repeated as if that cleared up any anger.

Nothing more, nothing less.

The little girl slowly sat beside him, her feet dipping under the water. "It is nice." She whispered.

The little boy dragged his eyes upwards, looking hurt but hopeful. "Right?" he asked, equally as quiet.

"You're my friend too, Jinshi." The little girl nudge him with her leg.

Jinshi's eyes twinkled, wide and all too bright, "Really?"

"Really." The little girl confirmed with a toothless grin. "My friend forever and ever!"

Jinshi positively beamed, the water sloshing as he jumped happily. "Forever and ever, and ever!"

"And ever!"

"It's no longer... appropriate for you and Jinshi-sama to be friends."

"I don't... I don't understand. He's my friend."

"His mother no longer finds it appropriate for you to concern yourself with Jinshi."

"But, Gaoshun—"

"No, Y/N. It's over. Come along. Suiren has a present for you."

"He's.... He's my friend...."

"I'm so sorry."

You are to give your life to your master.

The woman paused, back pin straight, as she entered her master's office, finding him curled up in the corner, muttering nonsensically to himself. The guard of said master was watching on with a pitiful expression of his own, only breaking his eyes away when the woman entered the room. His expression only seemed to deepen.

She didn't need to ask. There was an unspoken understanding as to what their master's breakdown was regarding. The Apothecary. The one that had gotten the attention of everyone in the palace as of late. The one that had been causing her great grief as of late— and was about to create more.

"Jinshi-sama?" The woman called softly, stepping closer.

Jinshi's lifeless eyes continued to stare at the floor below him. A gentle rocking seeming to soothe himself from the rages of his mind. "I don't need anything, Y/N. Thank you, kindly." He uttered just as lifelessly.

The devoted servant's chest clenched. Her face flushed as she reached out a wavering hand. To place it delicately against his hunched back. To offer her best comforting words that she could. To distract him away from her.

Any inappropriate behavior will be punished, severely.

She faltered. This wasn't her place. This wasn't a part of her duties unless Jinshi said so. Inappropriate behavior wasn't called for. It will be punished severly.

Retracting her hand, she stands, and offers a respectful bow. "Please call me if you need anything, Jinshi-sama." And left him in his dark corner.

"Gaoshun, may I ask you something?"

"Of course, Jinshi-sama."

"You have been in my life for as long as I can remember. You remember more than I possibly could about my younger years. Whatever happened to cause me and Y/N to fall apart?"

"...."

"It had to be around the time I was eight that I noticed we were growing apart. Even now, I see it so clearly."

"It's been a long time, Jinshi-sama. You're no longer children."

"All the more reason to know, isn't it?"

"I don't know...."

"Gaoshun, nothing will come of it. I'm simply curious."

"..."

"I'm sorry to put you in this position. Please return to what you were doing."

"Jinshi-sama.... you might not like the truth..."

"I usually don't."

"Where to begin.... Before her eighth birthday—"

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"H....E—"

Everything felt so muffled. Faraway. Featherlight.

Was that a pressure against your chest? A thump that came into quick successions, then stopped. For something soft and ever so delicate to press against your lips?

Everything was distant. So far away from your grasp. From your state of being. As if you were already long gone from whatever reality you were in moments ago.

"H—"

It was almost like floating. A gentle sway and a crack.

A joyful gliding against the sky that soothed you away from worries and woes.

Thump. Thump. Lips.

Repeating endlessly. Happily. Wetly?

Thump. Thump. Lips.

You welcomed it. Whatever it was. Whatever kept the rhythm. The wonderful rhythm.

Thump. Thump. Lips.

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Thump. Thump. Lips.

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Thump. Thump. Lips.

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Thump. Thump. Lips.

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Thump. Thump. Lips.

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THUMP. THUM—

You shot up with a cough.

Your throat burned and head ached terribly. Your eyes almost felt like they were about to pop out of your head and roll away. You felt horrible.

It didn't help that you were drenched from head to toe either.

Beside you, there was a heavy and loud sigh of relief as he fell to his backside. He let a silence fall over you both as you recovered, hand pressed against your throat and heaving.

Jesus. Had you almost...

The thought alone almost made you sick.

"I'm sorry. I thought.... I didn't think you still couldn't swim." His voice was soft, barely heard over the waterfall. Kind and cautious, worried and terrified. Things that seeped from his tone as if it were bleeding out and bearing all its insides to you.

Exposing him to you.

You peeked over your loose strands of hair to glare viciously at him. "When would I have the time to learn to swim?" You shot back ruthlessly, not entirely caring from etiquette in this moment. "You've lost your mind."

"Right." Jinshi immediately agreed, almost looking fearful as he watched you.

You push yourself up and take in a deep breath, coughing slightly at the burn of your throat. Taking in your surroundings, you swore that this was that—

"Are you really alright?"

You glanced back at the man and found him still sat on the damp ground. His eyebrows are furrowed and a small frown on his lips as he stared up at you. It made you uncomfortable. To see such a glittering violet staring back at you earnestly. Honestly.

You instead clutch onto your dress, "Suiren is gonna kill me." You scoff, tugging the garments apart.

You could hear Jinshi sputter behind you. The gravel and dirt below him crunching as he probably scrambled up from his spot.

You spared a feeble look over your shoulder to find him with his eyes clenched slowed, hand covering your body from his gaze. You snap your gaze back around and tug the fabric a little too hard as you scoff.

You wouldn't deny the pang of hurt that clenched your chest.

"Don't worry, Jinshi-sama, you won't have to see my unruly body of mine for long. I just want to make sure Suiren doesn't slaughter me when we return."

"I— No, I'm just— okay." He finally muttered.

You are stripped down to your underthings, placing the dress and various pieces on the ground as delicately as you can to avoid too much dirt being stained into the fabric.

As you place the last bit of clothing down, you hear the flutter of fabric behind you.

Jinshi is a bright red, gently tossing his robe down behind him. His back is facing you and you know its for whatever mock sense of modesty he wants to give the both of you. You instinctively reach out and take his robe in your grasp, twisting it and squeezing it to watch out a fair amount of water drip out.

"You worry about mine later. Take care of your things first."

Yeah, right, You think as you twist it with an unrelenting grip. You are there to serve your master. It's one of the first things you learn. His needs came before your own. His needs were your needs.

Jinshi snatched the robe away and squeezed the fabric tight, an overflowing amount of water released from the cloth and into the ground.

Okay, so maybe he was better at it than you.

You nod, turning your attention towards your own garments and try to ignore the overwhelming feeling that you had eyes on your rear.

"So, um—" Jinshi cleared his throat when his eyes dragged away from you, cheeks a bright red. "What now?"

"Well, we could attempt at trying to swim back—"

"You can't swim."

"I was going to say that."

"Oh, sorry."

There's a soft silence between the both of you as you finish up. Gently redressing, you make your way towards the entrance of the cave, where the waterfall is blocking it from any negative eyes. You press your lips into a thin line and regard it bitterly. You remember this waterfall.... you could recall the times you whimsical pondered what it'd be like to ride down it like in those stories.

Jinshi had promised such when you both were too young and too dumb to realize how naïve dreams like that were.

You couldn't really judge that mini-you, for you had your own dreams of—

"Remember when Gaoshun first brought us here?"

You hadn't realized that Jinshi made his way over until he was standing beside you. Robes lose over his shoulders and tugging on his top layer. Violet eyes were watching the water as if it were a canvas of memories in the long distant past. Something to be admired and viewed with daisies and smiles. Not to be addressed as anything but good or amazing. Not to see the truth of it all.

You press your lips together, drawing in a heavy breath, "I remember you pushing me in the water and Gaoshun having to pull me out."

Jinshi's face screws up slightly, a faint blush on his features as he almost looks around with shame. "Right...." He straightens, "I'm sorry."

You blink, "Huh?"

Jinshi glances at you with a small smile, "I, uh, never really apologized back then. Made you apologize like you did something wrong." He explains weakly.

You raise an amused brow, "I told you I wished you would drown."

"I kinda deserved it!" Jinshi counters, his lips cracking into a grin. That charming grin he gets that makes your heart flutter. Make you hopeful for terrible and wistful. "I'm real sorry."

You smile softly, eyes kind and soft as you regard him, "I forgave you a long time, Jinshi-sama."

Jinshi's expression faltered, "Don't call me...." He trailed off awkwardly, turning his attention back to the unrelenting waterfall. You watched him for that moment. That split second where it looked like he was actually going to say something that would make you lightheaded. His jaw working and the muscle jumping as he seems to contemplate his next words.

Say anything and I'll cling to it, You think, watching his lips part, I always have. I always will.

"I'm surprised you were the one that followed me out. I thought the Apothecary might've done it."

You tense. That was certainly not what you expected him to say. Of all the things he could say? The Apothecary.

The waterfall in front of you is suddenly much too loud and violent. The cave seems to darken and your eyes drag from Jinshi to stare at your bare feet. Of course. Of course. Why wouldn't he want Maomao? Why had you even came here? Who were you to get between whatever silent signal he was trying to send to the other girl.

Him and Maomao. It was nicer than him and you. Jinshi and Y/n.

You straighten, pushing down any ill thoughts and heavy feelings into the dark pits of your chest and mind. "I apologize for the intrusion. I thought it'd make more sense for me to accompany you, Jinshi-sama."

"Why are you apologizing....?" He trailed off and then made a noise that sounded eerily similar to that of a caught man. "No, wait, I'm really glad that you're the one who came! Like really glad!"

"You don't have to spare me, Jinshi-sama. I'm a woman now, not a little girl."

"I'm not—" He visibly slumps, closing his eyes and trying to collect whatever thoughts he has and place them appropriately. He draws in a breath and faces you, looking oddly serious compared to his usual self. "I'm not trying to spare your feelings. I was just trying to say that— Well, it's not— I want you here, Y/n."

He's sparing your feelings. He's being kind. He doesn't actually want you there. You can't be friends.

You don't spare him a response. Instead, walking further into the cave. You raise your eyebrows, looking at the gaping hole above you where light and the sounds of nature filtered in. What could possibly get you both out of there...?

Whistle. Sit.

Of course. Him.

Jinshi sighs, "I spoke to Gaoshun before we—"

You place your fingers in the corner of your mouth and blow. A loud whistle bounces off the cave walls and out of the hole. You wait and hope to hear a bark or see the familiar tall man, but there's nothing.

"What are you doing?" Jinshi asks slowly, glancing between you and the hole above.

"Hello?" You cup your hands over your mouth and shout as loudly as you can. "Is anyone out there?"

Jinshi frowns, staring at you uneasily, "Y/n, please, we don't want to attract them this direction."

In the mess of almost drowning and seeing peeps of Jinshi's bare skin, you'd almost forgotten that you both had been chased down here by some violent assassin. Rather foolish, if you were honest.

You place the tips of your fingers against your lips and try to force the blush spreading across your cheeks off. "Sorry." You offer a bow of your head, despite the position you both find yourselves in.

You receive no response which causes you to peek at him. The stare that he's leveling you with doesn't bring you any type of comfort. It usually meant he was about to say something that—

"Hop on my back and see if you can reach up there."

—you wouldn't like.

Your eyebrows shot upwards and you stared at him with wide eyes. If Suiren was here and knew what he just proposed, she'd positively lose her mind. No matter how long she had known you— she'd think it improper. He was your boss and you were his lowly servant. To be in an position above him or treating him like a mat, it was...

It was simply ridiculous.

"But—"

"If you're the one below, you'll get crushed." He jabs a thumb over his shoulder. "Do it."

And that's how you ended up here. Legs wrapped around Jinshi's shoulders and heads, hand reaching out for the dirt above. You dig your fingers in and glance down at the man below you.

"Are you sure I'm not hurting you?"

Jinshi sighed for what seemed the hundredth time that day, his hand on your thigh squeezing gently. "Y/N, please stop asking me that."

You grimace, "My apologies, Jinshi-sama. Sorry." You shakily raise from your place, ignoring the soft and deep grunt Jinshi gives as you stand on his shoulders.

You dig your nails into the damp dirt and begin to tug yourself up.

This is it. Finally, you could get into the open forest once again. You're not going to be suffocated by his presence. Everything will return back to its rightful places—

You froze when it smacked you in the forehead.

You tried to keep calm as you felt the slimy breathing thing rest on your skin. Body tensed up and eyes staring widely at the bright sky above.

"Y/N?" Jinshi softly called, noticing the way you tensed.

"F—Frog." You utter, jaw clenched tight and you felt it shift as you take a deep breath. "A frog."

Jinshi blinked, looking up at you with his own wide eyes, "Hey, don't-don't freak out! Just shake your head and it'll hop off."

You shake a little, but follow his instructions. However, you may have overestimated the shake as you lose your grip on the dirt and begin to fall back.

"Hey!"

The tumble down is short and not all that hurtful, like you had been expecting. You had closed your eyes in anticipation, fear of having to watch the ground quickly approach too much for your tiny heart. You expected to feel the damp mud to be seeping into your clothes and little bits of stone and bark digging into your skin. However—

Nothing.

There was nothing except the soft silk under your fingers. The scent that resembled a sweet fruit, one that you had smelt quite often in the mornings. In the noons, the evenings, the nights, repeat. You knew that smell and that familiar beat against your own chest.

Peeking your eyes open, you find that Jinshi is already staring back at you. The first thing you notice is that you both are extremely close to one another. His breath fans against your dewy face, making goosebumps raise off your skin and a shiver sent down your spin. Next is his tender expression, Eyes gentle and twinkling. His expression isn't filled with pain or anything that would indicate that he was uncomfortable with the very short distance between you both. The last thing you notice is the fact that your body is pressed against his.

Your complexion flushes and you blink down at him.

He's warm. Incredibly warm. A sharp contrast to his damp clothes, which are open and pooling under his shoulder blades, revealing his bare chest to you. Your breath is ripped from you as you stare at the plump skin. You've seen it a million times. Every day as you help him get ready for the day. It should be normal. Should be something that doesn't make you lightheaded.

But it does.

He's right there. Right against you. You can feel his heartbeat ramming against his chest and into yours. You can feel every small breath he takes—as if hanging onto this moment with, what? Trepidation? Unease? You weren't entirely sure but you knew that you felt light.

Was it so bad that you felt nice in this moment? That this warmth was wrong? Was it so out of your reach that you simply couldn't imagine a man wanting to embrace you in a way?

You are to give your life to your master. Any inappropriate behavior will be punished, severely.

Yes. It was.

You clenched your jaw, ignoring the tender look in Jinshi's eyes as you try to bring your mind into the present.

The frog.

It wasn't anything that you wanted to touch, but Jinshi was your master. Your discomforts and fears must be pushed away for his sake and needs.

Reaching down, you feel for any signs of the frog. It wasn't large, but it wasn't entirely small either. It wouldn't be hard to find in all it's slimy and— There it is.

Your hand brushed it and you feel almost elated to find it. Your hand cupped around the bulge from Jinshi's robes. It feels much bigger than the average frog that'd been on your forehead. It was unmoving to, except for the small twitch it gives as you rest your palm down. You gripped it.

"Hng," Jinshi grunts, his eyes close. You're a little shocked as his hips shift, his hands at your hips dig into your flesh, almost too eager. You snap your eyes upward to his suddenly sweating and flushed face. "I-I'm sorry, but... but could you move your hand? It's making things, um, rather difficult."

Difficult?

You grip onto the twitching frog below you—

"U-Uh—" Jinshi moans in a deep and guttural way that would make anyone, especially you, malfunction. It doesn't help that his hands latch onto you harder, pressing you closer and releasing a stuttering breath against your ear.

Why was he squirming so much? Why was his face so red and dripping with sweat? Why was his chest heaving and his hands flexing around your skin? And why was this thing twitching and getting bigger in your hold....

Oh.

You are to give your life to your master. Any inappropriate behavior will be punished, severely.

You felt a little sick at your intrusion. At the gall. You couldn't believe yourself. You had violated one of the single rules you were ever given. You violated Jinshi's space. His entire being. You were to be punished and hated— ousted from your position.

Disgusted with yourself, you slowly stand up. Jinshi's softly panting from his position on the ground, running a hand through his mused hair.

"S-Sorry, I haven't— I'm a bit—" Jinshi's obviously embarassed and uncomfortable. Look what you've done. You've ruined it all. "Hey, where are you going?"

Before you could think much more as his hands grip your hips once again and pull you down.

You're sat on his his lap and you could feel it.

"J-Jinshi-sama, I'm so-I'm so sorry!" You tucked your head down, shaking with trembling lips.

Jinshi's hands fall to your thighs, limp, "Eh...?"

"What I did was truly inappropriate and-and I will take any and all punishment!"

"Punishment...?" He sounded terribly confused, still a bit breathless. You keep your head ducked and he remains unmoved. "Why would I... you're not getting punished."

"I give my life to you. Any inappropriate behavior will be punished." You repeated softly under your breath, tucking your hands against your face to hide away from his gaze. From the judgement and hatred. "It's only just."

There's a longstanding silence between the both of you and you're hopeful that he's coming to his senses. That you'd be released and freed. That you would finally accept the gap and space between them. To fall away, finally, to the shadows.

It was tarnished the moment Jinshi wraps your hands around your own, gently prying your hands away from your face.

He doesn't look vengeful or angered. No. No, he looks kind. As he always has been. Kind and considerate. Honest and open. He'd always been so...

He'd never really been angry with you. Not without sadness being overbearing. Always so quick to forgive you. To push everything away with a smile and crinkle of his eyes.

"Y/N..." His words are as soft as his expression.

Your hands shake, "Please... Please hate me." You pleaded quietly, pressing your forehead against his hands as if he were a monk to be begged to.

"I'm not going to punish you or... or anything of the sort. Why would you want that?"

You draw in a watery breath, shoulders shaking, "It's easier to let go that way." You admitted.

"Let go of what?"

"Of my love for you."

"What?!"

His shout echoed off the cave walls. Your humiliation and embarrassment was quick to follow once it bounced back at you. Made you flinch back and try to push yourself back from his lap. Why did you say anything? Fool. Disgusting fool.

"Hey, hey, hey," Jinshi's hands wrap around your wrists and tug you forward a bit. You refuse to meet his eye. You refuse to be humiliated and demeaned— "Don't do that. Don't close off."

You clench your jaw and try to push the humilation deep within you, taking a deep calming breath as you stared at his bare collar. "You're so kind and so... you. I'm sorry if I make you uncomfortable or disgusted, but I need to tell you. And then I would hope that you would let me go."

Jinshi's eyebrows shot up. "Let you go?"

You've been thinking about this for some time. That it all would be better if, in the end, you were to serve someone else. That you were pawned off for some soldier instead of this slow torture. This uncomfortable, unbearable tiptoeing.

"I would like for you to offer me to a soldier or anywhere else."

The reaction is instant. The way Jinshi's complexion darkens and he stares at you with wide eyes. He slumps into the damp ground and almost turns into putty. His hold on you slackens and gives you ample opportunity to move away. But you're frozen in your spot.

"Why would I do that?" Jinshi's voice is quiet, slow, "You're... You're mine."

A blush takes over your cheeks, "Jinshi-sama, It's not appropriate! I shouldn't be like this with you."

"What if I like it?"

You blink at him. "Huh?"

Jinshi leans forward, his thumb gently skirting against your skin. "What if I have some love for you too? What if I don't care about what's appropriate or follows the rules."

I would ask who you are. You were tempted to say but your mouth was clamped shut in shock. Following the rules had been completely him. He was put in his current position now to ensure the rules in the rear palace were being followed diligently. The thought that he would love someone like you when there were people like Maomao or princesses out there. People much more deserving of his devotion. It wasn't right.

As if sensing you're not believing him, he pulls away and presses his lips thin. "Okay, I'll convince you." He straightens up and takes a breath. "I spoke to Gaoshun not too long ago. Before we came here and I know everything now."

A pause. Everything. He knew everything now? Everything is so much. Everything is... well, everything. What exactly had Gaoshun told him?

"What's everything?"

"That my mother didn't want you around anymore. That Gaoshun told you that you weren't allowed around me anymore. That you stopped being my friend and became my employee."

Your stare up at Jinshi with wide eyes. "That's not...Us being friends wasn't right anymore."

Jinshi frowned, shaking his head and his hands slide up to your arms. "If I had my way, I would've had you by my side all that time. Not as some lady-in-waiting, but as my equal."

You shake your head, ignoring the erratic beating of your heart against your chest. "Don't say that. Don't say things you don't mean, Jinshi." You beg softly.

Jinshi reaches out, wrapping his hands around your own, pressing it against his chest. "I mean it with everything in me. If it were up to me, I wouldn't have ever been separated from you. Forget what my mother said." His words were sweet, tempting. They made you lightheaded. So did the sudden brightness and tender smile on his face. "That's the first time you've called me Jinshi since we were kids."

"What? I've always called you Jinshi."

"No, you've always called me Jinshi-sama."

"Oh."

You suppose you had.

"Jinshi," You utter, unsure of what else you both could say.

Jinshi's expression, if possible, softens further, leaning forward an inch. "Yes?" He whispers back just as softly.

Your eyes trail between his eyes before moving to his lips, parted and glistening, "Jinshi..."

Jinshi's hand slides up your thigh and his lips are ghosting against yours, "I'm here. I promise." He whispers before pressing your lips together delicately.

Your heart soars. Your hands shakily press against his cheeks, drawing closer as his own press your hips together. He's soft. He's tender. He's cautious and all encompassing. Filling your senses and making you lightheaded.

As you both part for a breath, he flips you onto your back. His hand grips the underside of your thigh and presses you close enough that he lets out a soft and broken sound.

His eyes are heavily lidded as he gazes down at you, lips pink. "I just want you. No one else. I promise." He utters.

You twist your hands into his hair, eyes fluttering. "You're it." You pass back.

His lips are back on yours. Wet and eager. This is sudden. Fast. But you've been waiting for so long. Had been clinging onto the smallest of things. Desperate to have this closeness that you had now. To feel his skin against yours. His breath mixing with your own. Everything him and everything you intertwined.

You just wanted to cherish this—

WOOF!

You and Jinshi both tense up, jumping. Looking over his shoulder, your eyes widen upon finding a familiar dog staring down at you both, wagging tail eager and happy to see you.

Jinshi's eyebrows furrow, "Huh...?"

There's not much warning before the dog is jumping down. Landing straight on Jinshi's back, causing the poor man to let out a pained sound. He's squishing you against the ground as the dog stands on his back, happily lapping his tongue against your cheek.

Vague disgust and disappointment wash over you, but you smile all the same. "Oh, boy!"

He barks again. A greeting you're sure.

Above, Lihaku and, surprisingly, Maomao appear. Both of them stare down at you with varying degrees of emotions. Lihaku looked excited and kinda like his dog, while Maomao.

Well, Maomao looked all too knowing.

"Well, you look rough!" Lihaku called down with a grin, "Glad to see you're not dead."

"As am I!" You huff out a laugh, then look to Maomao. "Hello, Xiaomao!"

"Hello." Maomao said flatly, she looked lower and her face screwed up distastefully. "Is Jinshi-sama okay?"

Lihaku then he spots his dog and slightly pales, letting out a sharp whistle. "C'mon, boy!"

The dog eagerly jumps off Jinshi, going to sit by your head and wag his tail. The man above you sighs in relief, pushing up off you. He sits up and you try not to focus on the bright blush on his face.

"Why did he do that?" The royal asks.

"Must've thought something was wrong." Lihaku rubs the back of his neck, frowning down at you both. "What... exactly where you two doing?"

You and Jinshi glance at one another, furious blushes flushing over you both. Despite anything that Jinshi said, there were things that you weren't allowed to do. Rules and laws that forbid something like this form happening the public eye. For a man like himself from being with a woman like you. A servant with a beautiful prince.

Protecting him was the priority.

"Nothing!" You shout back, ignoring the eyebrow raise that garnered from both Jinshi and Maomao.

Everything was better left alone. A secret between the both of you. To cherish and hold for however long it may need. You could deal with the anger and longing later.

#✩࿐ t writes #jinshi x reader #apothecary diaries #apothecary diaries x reader #jinshi #jinshi x y/n #jinshi x you #Kusuriya no Hitorigoto x reader #Kusuriya no Hitorigoto #request #anon

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alkaline-wtr · 8 months

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Skipping Class

teen!Konig x stoner!reader Description: Reader teaches Konig skip class. Konig smokes weed for the first time. Genre/Warnings: Konig and reader are high schoolers, anxious!konig, stoner!reader, fluff, angst, Mentions of drug use, silly. WC:1k

My Masterlist

AN** Just a silly little Konig imagine, not my best work. Thank the lord for Grammarly. I was high when I wrote this and the autocorrect was working overtime. It was so bad I said, 'fuck it' and paid for premium. Anyways, enjoy.

Konig stalks through the halls as the other kids shuffle into classrooms. Konig looks around, making sure to go unnoticed as he pushes through the metal doors at the end of the hall. He walks across the courtyard to the field and heads over the farthest bleachers. Behind the bleachers is a metal wire fence separating the School from one of the main roads in town. You are sitting under the bleachers, legs crossed, as you lightly pack a pinch of marijuana into the bowl of your pipe. You look up when you hear the heavy footsteps pass you. You watch Konig curiously as he begins to climb the fence.

"Hey! Where you going?" You call over to him.

Konig freezes in fear and turns to you. A look of relief washes over him as he realizes you're just another student, not a teacher ready to punish him for ditching class.

"Home?" You ask, digging through the pocket of your backpack for your lighter.

Konig's eyes dart nervously around the field.

"No," He shakes his head.

"Usually, I just walk around. Or sit at the park." He responds, his thick Austrian accent coating his words.

You nod, humming in response

"So, why are you skipping?" You ask, raising an eyebrow.

Konig shrugs,

"I've just got some stuff on my mind."

You didn't need to ask the question on the tip of your tongue. The look in your eyes was enough for Konig to continue.

"I'm enlisting in the military after graduation. I'm just nervous about it, and I can't focus." He admits.

You nod your head understandingly. You were no stranger to anxiety, and with graduation coming in just a couple of months, you could see why he would be stressed.

You gently hold the pipe to your lips, covering the carb hole with your thumb. Konig watches you place the lighter carefully over the end of the Glass. His eyes stay on your hands as they sync effortlessly to time your hit. You toss the lighter down and drop your thumb, inhaling the smoke. Sitting back, you hold the smoke in your lungs and look up at him. Konig's fingers fidgeted with the hem of his shirt nervously. You exhale the smoke, his eye glancing back to the glass pipe in your hand.

"You want some?" You ask, holding the pipe up.

Konig hesitates but shakes his head. You shrug it off. Placing the pipe to your lips again. Konig watches, stepping further beneath the bleachers. As you exhale your second hit, You notice Konig standing closer now. You pat the ground beside you. Konig sits beside you, his knees close to his chest like he's trying to make himself smaller. You side-eye him. His eyes are still fixed curiously on the pipe. Finally, you break the silence.

"Have you smoked before?"

He shakes his head.

"Would you like to try?"

You can see the conflict in his eyes as he considers the question. Konig hadn't been around weed smokers and wasn't entirely educated on its effects.

"You know it's useful for anxiety." You say, noting his fidgety hands.

Konig perked up at this. Anxiety? he was always anxious. He glanced at the pipe and flicked his eyes up to you. You were looking at him. You were so relaxed and patient. Konig admired that and agreed to your offer, hoping to achieve a similar state.

He scoots a bit closer as you lean over to dump the bowl of ashes.

Konig watches your hands again. You pack the bowl with a small pinch, remembering your first time and wanting to spare him the struggles.

"Okay. So, you're going to hold this-" You grab Konig's hand, placing the pipe into it.

"Put your thumb here." You instruct, guiding his thumb over the carb hole.

"I'm going to light it. When I do, suck in lightly." The lighter clicks, and you hold the flame over the bowl in the same careful way you'd done before.

Konig watches intently, his eyes gazing down the pipe, touching his lips. After a couple of seconds, you diminish the flame and drop the hand holding the lighter. Your free hand cups Konig's hand he is using to hold the pipe. You watch Konig. He follows your instructions. The smoke fills the chamber, and you stop him.

"Okay. Take your thumb off, breathe in, and hold your breath for a few seconds."

Konig does as you say. Holding the smoke in his lungs while you take the pipe from his hand. He only manages to keep it in for about a second before the burning in his lung becomes too much, and he breaks into a coughing fit. You pat his back, letting him cough.

"Here." You lift a half-empty water bottle to him.

Konig takes the water quickly, downing a sip. You sit with him in silence as the coughing dies off. Konig stares ahead blankly. He can feel his head grow foggy, and the world around him slows as the smoke takes effect.

"How do you feel?" You ask him.

Konig thought about it for a moment. How did he feel? Turning his head to the side, he felt dizzy. Konig looked down into your eyes as you awaited his answer. For the first time in forever like his mind was quiet. He felt focused but completely unfocused at the same time. A warmth washed over him, and he smiled.

"Good." He responds simply.

Many thoughts were swarming his mind about how Konig was feeling, but 'Good' was the only word he could muster. He was tired, but not the kind of tiredness where he could sleep. Frankly, Konig just didn't feel like moving at all. Even his lips felt heavy, like it would be hard to lift them if he spoke. You must have felt similarly as you just responded with a soft nod, looking forward. Konig looked forward too. You both sat silently, staring ahead at the now fascinating metal fence. Konig wasn't sure how much time had passed when he looked back over to you. All he knew right now was that he felt a strange new sense of Calm. He liked it.

Konig realized that you were right about what you said before. This did help with anxiety. 'I should do this more often.' He thought to himself.

#konig imagine #konig fanfiction #cod imagine #cod konig #cod fanfic #konig au #cod x reader #konig x reader #cod mw2 #cod fluff #cod headcanons #konig headcanons #alkaline writes #☑️mstlst

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pep-rambles · 2 months

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Okay Here it is

Yup it's my stupid fluffy Valentine's day Huskerdust fic. Not my favorite thing I've written but I literally did it in a day.

As promised with 10 mins to spare. Here is the A03 link if you'd rather read it there or see the tags or whatever. https://archiveofourown.org/works/53805574

It was on the edge of midnight when Angel Dust finally made it back to the hotel. A full day of back to back clients. Sometimes causing Angel to run halfway across the city in heels and 20 minutes or less because Valentino couldn't schedule for shit.

Valentine's day: sex workers’ black Friday. Even if you were already dead.

All things considered, it usually wasn't the worst day aside from it being so busy, at least Angel didn't have to deal with Valentino directly. But this year, there was somewhere else he'd rather be. Someone else he'd rather be with.

Angel pushed through the doors of the hotel. The lobby was dim, most of the lights were off as most of the residents had gone to bed by now. The light of the bar on the other end of the lobby, highlighting the handsome bartender Angel wished he could have spent his day with.

“Heeey Husky.” Angel murmured, sliding onto a bar stool and laying his head down on one of his forearms but still glancing up lovingly at his, dare he say it, boyfriend. The two men had only been officially dating for a couple weeks now but they had been good friends for months, and Angel can't even recall how long he'd been pining for the old cat. He could hardly believe they were actually an item.

Husker took a second of Angel's hands in his, Angel helping him to lace their fingers together. “Rough day?” Husk asked, laying a soft kiss on the top of Angel's hand. A gesture that made Angel blush.

“Eh I've had worse” the spider shrugged and sat up. “I'm fine really. Just a bit sore as always.” He reassured his partner as he checked him over for bruises. This had been part of their routine for almost as long as they had been friends, Husk had well over stocked his first aid kit since.

“I sure missed you though.” Angel said flirtatiously before leaning in and planting a soft kiss on Husker’s forehead.

Husk chuckled. “Somebody missed you too.” He smirked as he opened the door to the bar and a little demon pig ran out.

“Nuggs!” Angel said excitedly as he leaned down to pick up the piglet. He scooped up Fat Nuggets with his lower set of arms and began fussing him with his upper set. “Hey there Nuggies! Did ya miss me? Did ya miss me? Did ya miss your papa? I bet ya did? Were ya a good boy for Husky?”

As Angel Dust continued to coo over his pet and pepper him with kisses, Husk looked over at the two of them with a smile. He wasn’t the least bit jealous that the pig was getting more attention than he was. He found the whole scene to be incredibly adorable and endearing.

“So, the usual?” Husk asked Angel once he had calmed down a bit with fussing Nuggets.

“Sure thing Husky.” Angel said, running a hand through his hair. As Husk prepared his drink Angel took out his phone and checked the time. “Just two more minutes of Valentine’s Day left, glad we’re spending it together.”

Husk paused as he was pouring Angel’s drink out. “Wait, it's Valentine’s day?” He asked, looking up at his Angel in shock.

“Wait, ya didn’t realize that?” Angel asked, surprised.

“I don’t know man you know I’m not into all that sappy bullshit. How’s one supposed to keep track of time down here anyway.” The bartender waved him off.

“Oh Husky!” Angel laughed, gently setting Fat Nuggets down on the floor before leaning in to kiss the now furrowed face of his beloved. “Well happy Valentine’s anyway, kitty.” Angel said sweetly smoothing back the fur on Husker’s head. Husk grumbled at the nickname but smiled anyway.

Angel sat back down on the bar stool. The two held hands as Angel nursed his drink. Not talking much, just enjoying each other’s presence.

A few minutes passed before Angel Dust spoke up again. “Well, it may be a the fifteenth now we can still do somethin’ together.” He smiled as he clasped all four hands around one of his partner’s own. “Wanna come over to my room?” Then added. “I mean just ta, like, cuddle and watch tv or talk or somethin’.”

Husk smiled and added his second hand to the pile of the five others. “Sure.” He said. “I could bring some snacks. Charlie and Vaggie made cookies I think.”

“Sounds good!” Angel replied. “Give me about 30 mins or so ta shower slip into something more comfortable, ‘kay?” He gave Husk another kiss before scooping up Nuggets and heading up to his bedroom.

------

There was a knock on Angel's door just about the time he got out of the shower.

“Be right there.” Angel called as he slipped a large t-shirt over his head.

When he opened the door there stood Husk dressed down to just a pair of pajama pants and carrying a significant amount of food in just his two arms. Three bags of chips, a handful of cookies each individually wrapped, and a bottle of soda in each hand and the box of Angel's favorite popsicles.

“Babe!” Angel couldn't help but laugh a little. “Ya could've asked for my help.”

“I got it,” Husk grumbled.

“Sure ya do Husky.” Angel smiled as he scooped up the snacks in his four arms. And walked over to set them down at the little set up he had made for the two of them. (Well three, as Fat Nuggets would most definitely be snuggling up with them.) A pile of blankets and pillows. In the center of the pile, facing the television. was a cushion with arms that Cheri had jokingly called his “husband” which Angel sat down in front of, Husk joining him shortly after setting down the soda bottles in front of them. And leaning back.

“Soooo, ya like my husband?” Angel teased leaning into Husk.

“YOUR WHAT?!”

Angel laughed, running one of his arms along one of the arms of the cushion. “Ya, know because he's always holding me in his arms?”

“Hmph” Husk smirked as he wrapped his lover up in a tight hug. Angel leaned back against Husk's shoulder raising a hand to his cheek pulling him in.

The two men kissed softly for a few moments. Until Angel felt something bump against his lower set of arms. Looking down he saw Fat Nuggets nudging his way into his lap. Both men laughed as Angel scooped up the tiny demon pig.

With one hand holding Nuggs, a second scratching behind his ears, a third entwined with Husk's, and a fourth grabbing a cookie from the pile of snacks.

Angel looked at the various pink and red frosted frosted sugar cookie hearts. He smirked as he stopped fussing Nuggs for a moment to unwrap one of the red hearts. “So the ladies made these little heart cookies and ya didn't even realize it was Valentine’s day?”

Husk grumbled, “I don't know. Like I said I can't keep track of time anymore. And all that sugary mushy shit is just Charlie on any other day.”

“Fair enough.” Angel said as he took a bite of the cookie. He reached down and grabbed the remote. He turned the TV on but kept the volume low. “So, how was your day then?”

“Pretty dull. I wondered why Charlie hadn’t planned any activities. Now I guess it makes sense.” Husk laughed.

Angel listened intently as he flipped through the channels not really paying attention there was nothing but junk at 1 am in Hell. Or at any hour in Hell.

Angel and Husk talked and snacked well into the night. At one point Husk gave Angel a back rub. Angel had forgotten how stiff he was until he felt the bartender’s strong fingers kneading into his skin. Slowly throughout the night Angel began to sink further and further into Husker’s lap. With Husk leaning back more against the cushion.

Angel looked up at Husk talking about some occurrence at his casino from back in his overlord days. He couldn’t help but notice how Husk looked at him with a face that said he held the stars in his heart. Angel Dust had seen dozens of Valentines Days when he was alive, and almost three times as many since he died, but he never imagined he’d actually ever have one that was worth remembering. One where he spent it with a man who didn’t care that he was without make-up and just in boxers and a ratty old t-shirt, or that he had just stuffed his face with junk food, or that there were probably crumbs of said junk food still lingering on his clothing. A man who didn’t seem to mind when Angel paid more attention to the tiny demon pig now sleeping in his lap. A man who saw Angel as someone magnificent, not just something to be used and discarded.

Angel reached a hand up to touch Husk’s cheek softly.

“Hey… what’s up?” Husk leaned into the touch as he reached his own hand up to gently touch Angel’s.

“Nothin’” Angel replied trying to hide the tears he felt welling up behind his eyes “I’m just happy” He smiled. “Happy belated Valentine’s, Husky.”

“Yeah, uh…” Husk coughed and blushed, not used to such sappy sentiments. “Y-you too.”

“Hey Husky?”

“Hmmm?”

“I think the popsicles’ve probably melted.”

Husk looked surprised for a moment before both of them laughed and embraced each other. P.S. This is a husband:

The term husband is something my friends came up with in college and I want to try and make it a real thing.

#huskerdust #hazbin hotel #Angelhusk #angel dust #hazbin hotel husk #fanfic #my fic #my writing #fat nuggets #valentine's day

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bluethepineapple · 1 year

Note

10 and 11 for weird writer asks!

10. Has a piece of writing ever “haunted” you? Has your own writing haunted you? What does that mean to you?

The most recent bit of work to haunt me is from @whinlatter's Beasts (which I highly recommend)! Specifically this piece:

They tried, I think, but couldn’t manage it. Some of them are really upset.’ Hermione leans down to try and pick up Crookshanks. He mews at her, before trotting meekly away. ‘Where were you tonight, anyway? You weren’t at dinner?’ ‘No, I went to Hagrid’s.’ Ginny leans down as Crookshanks approaches her, weaving himself between her legs before trotting off to settle down on the end of her bunk. ‘He made a pie. It was almost edible.’ Hermione, it seems, is not really listening. Instead she watches Crookshanks stretch his front paws out on Ginny's old blanket. 'What happened to them?’ she asks, after a pause, gesturing at the other beds. ‘Your dorm-mates?’ Ginny glances over at the bunks, bare, save for Crookshanks and her beloved Nimbus. She points at the bunks in order. ‘St Mungo’s, after Azkaban. Transferred to Beauxbatons. Dropped out, maybe being home-schooled, though I doubt it. And - still missing.’ She looks soberly at the last bunk. ‘No-one’s heard anything from her in months. Her parents are Muggles, they must be going spare.’ They’re quiet as they both get dressed for bed. As Ginny finishes feeding her owl, she looks over at Hermione, sat up in bed. There's a Muggle paperback book open on her lap, though she doesn’t seem to be turning many pages. Her eyes, instead, are fixed on a sleeping Crookshanks on the other side of the room.

For such a quiet scene, it felt so suffocating. Her relationship with Crookshanks here is this very tangible evidence of Hermione no longer fitting into her previous life. There is that very deep sense of having been left behind, of being replaced, of no longer fitting into her home. I will be honest, I found this part difficult to read. There is this very visceral sense of lostness and missing that I felt keenly with Hermione, and I have been thinking about it ever since.

For my own work, I recently re-read Sweet Summer Scents, and two lines come to mind for me :

“I can cook,” she said, willing and failing to keep her voice from choking. “It could even be delicious. Potions need quite similar skills to cooking I would have you know.” She brewed a NEWTs level potion at thirteen. Curry could not possibly be more complicated. She could do it. She could help. They still had time. They must still have time. “Of course.” He hesitated. Then a look so soft came over his eyes, as if she had revealed something precious to him. He smiled at her fondly. “I’m also quite certain you would rather be getting on with your book.”

As well as

There was a rustle of leaves and stupidly she wished that it was her dad coming back. Maybe a scream did escape her. Maybe he would demand the truth, and she would not lie. Maybe he would carry her up the stairs and tuck her into bed as if she were five and with a fever. As the pulse in her side turned into a full-blown blaze, she wondered if she could smell her own corpse again. She hoped her dad would not have to. In the pain, her hand spasmed. The wreath broke, her wilted privets scattered in the wind. The pain eased. There was no one.

The intensity of Hermione's longing is haunts me I suppose. It's that ghost of a home. The fact that her father is right there but is nonetheless unreachable to her anyway makes the resulting loneliness so visceral to me.

11. Do you believe in the old advice to “kill your darlings?” Are you a ruthless darling assassin? What happens to the darlings you murder? Do you have a darling graveyard? Do you grieve?

While I love imagining such scenarios, I have never actually written one. I think I would if it would serve the plot or the theme, but I've never actually tried, so I can't say for sure!

#ask games

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kit-fisto-obsessive · 1 year

Text

Captain Rex Is In Trouble

Chapter 15: Captain Rex, Or Fun Rex?

AO3

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Summary

Rex wasn't thinking about Kit Fisto.

Notes

Hope you enjoy this chapter! Hardcase is talking about some stuff that is very personal to me, and very relevant to my current situation. Maybe that's why I've had so much trouble with it!

Thanks to @ssoundwavee for the beta <3

Rating: T

Warnings

N/A

Rex wasn't thinking about Kit Fisto.

Instead, he was thinking very hard about how he wasn't thinking about Kit Fisto. It absolutely wasn't the same thing, he'd decided.

His datawork had never been more professional or needlessly detailed. His and Kix’s shared quarters have never been neater. He’s never had the training and shift schedules planned out so far in advance. Usually that’s because something comes along to disrupt said schedule – the current galaxy wide war comes to mind – and so Rex never bothers to plan for more than a month in advance, and rarely more than a fortnight.

In the past week he had planned for the next six months. It’ll probably come in handy, even if it does get chopped and changed when they get their next set of orders.

Usually, Rex would have distracted himself by hanging out with Ahsoka. By hanging out with, he really meant training her in hand-to-hand, military tactics and command practices – but it was fun all the same. Unfortunately she was helping General Yoda babysit some even babier Jedi, and so Rex was shit out of luck on the distraction front. It was probably for the best. She would've been able to tell something was up with him instantly. She also would have asked him what was up, matter-of-fact teen that she was, and he wouldn't have had an easy answer for her.

Other than Kix, who'd been there for Rex's breakdown, only Anakin had figured out something was up with him. How could he not, when every form Rex had filed went straight to his datapad? Anakin, being mostly an adult, had asked if Rex wanted to talk about it. When Rex had said no, Anakin had clapped him on the shoulder and walked off.

Adults!

After coaching Rex through his panic attack, Kix had also not asked him what was up. He had, however, started to spend a lot more time in their quarters. Not talking – Force, never talking – just working together in silent companionship. Rex was grateful, both for the silence and the companionship.

Now though, he was alone in his office.

Before Ahsoka had joined the 501st, Rex had had a combined bunk room and office to himself. She'd needed her own space more though, so Anakin had given her his solo bunkroom – no desk space – and moved into Rex's. Rex had moved into Kix's double quarters with him and taken over Anakin's office. Anakin preferred to work in his bunk anyway, so it worked out well for all of them.

Rex stared down at the form on his datapad, then brought up the chronometer function. The two troopers he was supposed to be meeting with weren't technically late yet. They still had forty-five seconds until the clock ticked over to ten-oh-one, but Rex had been ready and prepped for this meeting for the last fifteen minutes.

He was in danger of thinking about the thing he was trying very hard not to think about.

Luckily for Rex – and the troopers – they arrived with seven seconds to spare.

"Hey," Jesse said, sinking down into one of the chairs opposite Rex without asking for permission. "What's this about?"

Hardcase hopped into the other chair.

“Is this a meeting with Captain Rex, or Fun Rex?” he asked.

Rex stared at him.

"Oh," Hardcase said, "Captain Rex then."

"The worst one," Jesse muttered.

Rex rolled his eyes at them, and they both laughed.

"Seriously though, what's up?" Jesse said, settling back in his chair. "You didn't say in your message."

"It's time to send the next pair of troops for ARC training," Rex explained. Both Jesse and Hardcase tensed, glancing at each other.

"I know I said it last time, but I think it bears repeating," Rex continued. "I sent Echo and Fives instead of you two, not because you didn't deserve it or because you weren't ready, but because we needed continuity of leadership. The battalion has to come first."

Jesse's shoulders fell. Hardcase didn't really react other than to shift in his chair. Rex kept talking.

"Now that Fives and Echo are properly integrated, have more leadership experience and better prepared to cover your positions while you're away, it's you guys' turn to go. If you're still interested, that is."

"Seriously?" Jesse said, leaning forwards. "We can go?"

"Yeah," Rex said, grinning a little. "The reason I didn't send you last time is because I was worried about how we'd survive without you, but I think Fives and Echo are more than capable of filling in for you. That – and I was concerned about how the battalion would react to two relative newbies in command positions. But they did well during the Ryloth campaign and everyone is well used to taking orders from them – I hate to say it, but we'll be fine without you. Do you want to go?"

"Yes!" Jesse shouted, jumping up from his chair. Beside him, Hardcase was suspiciously quiet. "Yes! When do we leave?"

"Two days."

"Awesome! I'm gonna go tell the others!"

Rex watched him bounce from the room, smiling fondly. Then, his eyes tracked to Hardcase. He was frowning, slunk low in his chair with his arms folded across his chest.

"And you?" Rex asked.

Hardcase shifted, frowning.

"I don't think I should go," he said quietly.

"What?"

"I don't think I should go," Hardcase repeated, hunching his shoulders. "I don't think I'll be good at it."

“But you’ve always wanted to go to ARC training!” Rex exclaimed.

Hardcase shrugged, looking away. Rex stared at him, completely aghast.

“I’m confused, ‘Case,” he said, leaning forward. “As long as I’ve known you, you’ve wanted to do ARC training. What changed?”

“C’mon, Rex. Don’t make me say it,” Hardcase muttered, still refusing to look at him.

“Say what, ‘Case?” Rex held out his hands, “I’m completely lost here. Help me out.”

Hardcase sighed, then looked at him. “I’ll only let you down,” he said. “You know I can barely even do my datawork. How the hell am I supposed to pass the written exams to become an ARC trooper? I only just scraped through basic training. What's the point in going if I'm just going to fail?”

Rex stared at him, and Hardcase glanced down again. He started to fidget with the edge of his red fatigues, the bound edge already frayed and picked apart.

"You don't know you'll fail," Rex said quietly, reaching across the desk.

Hardcase's head snapped up. His face – usually covered in a grin – was twisted in anger.

"Don't Rex," he spat, "don't try and spin this into some kind of – ADHD is a superpower” bullshit. Don't tell me what I can and can't do. You have no idea what my life is like."

Rex swallowed. "You're right," he said. "I don't."

Hardcase wiped an angry tear off his cheek, scowling.

"So tell me," Rex continued.

"What?"

"Tell me what it's like. Help me understand."

"You really want to know?" Hardcase asked, staring at him.

"Yeah, of course," Rex said. "Of course I do."

"Alright then."

Hardcase shifted, swallowing.

“At any given moment I am barely hanging on.”

He took a deep breath.

“Five minute, simple fucking tasks take me hours – if not days,” he continued. “Sometimes – when there's something really important I need to do, like the weapons requisitions, I put it off for days and give myself fucking panic attacks and then when I finally do it, minutes before the deadline, it only takes five fucking minutes and I hate myself but I do it over and over and over again.

“I can never focus, unless it’s something interesting and then I get too focussed. I’m either not present or too present, there's no fucking middle ground. I lose all sense of time, I blink and I’ve lost… fucking hours. And the worst bit is… the worst bit is…”

Hardcase took a deep breath, wiping a tear from his cheek.

“Sometimes I have no idea who I really am,” he said, looking down into his lap. “I feel like… I feel like… I'm always performing, just to try and seem more together than I really am. And if I’m always performing, then who the hell am I? Really? I'm – I don't feel like I'm real, half the time. I sure as shit don't feel like I deserve to be where I am, I have no idea what I'm doing, I'm just – I'm just a fucking mess, Rex. All the time. And I just… I feel like no one really knows that… I feel like no one really knows me."

Rex stared at him, frowning.

"I'm sorry, ‘Case," he said quietly. "That sounds really hard."

Hardcase wiped his eyes again, staring down at his lap.

"And I'm sorry if I ever made you feel… bad, or –"

"No you – you're actually great," Hardcase said, looking up at him. "You always give me the time I need, and you… you're fine. It's just –"

He stopped, taking a deep breath that shook his chest.

"Go on," Rex said softly.

Hardcase sighed and leaned back in his chair. He hunched in on himself and folded his arm.

"It was my quarterly check up last week – I had a new medic, kid was real shiny. Anyway, we got on to the mental health shit and he was asking about the ADHD stuff. He said that he'd heard that ADHD could be like some kind of secret superpower, like it was some good thing I've been blessed with and… it's just been bugging me.” Hardcase ran a hand over his bald head sheepishly. “Sorry, you didn't deserve the rant."

“It’s okay,” Rex said. “I had no idea… you know you can talk to me whenever you need to, right?”

“Course I do,” Hardcase said. He leaned forwards, folding his arms and resting them on the edge of the desk. “It’s just… sometimes I don't even know I'm doing it. The masking, I mean… it’s hard.”

“Well then I’ll make more of an effort to ask.”

Hardcase ducked his head, cheeks colouring slightly.

“You don’t have to,” he mumbled.

“Course I do,” Rex said.

Hardcase smiled at him, and Rex smiled softly back. After a moment, he cleared his throat and wiped the last of the tears from the corners of his eyes.

“So, do you have an idea of who to send instead?” he asked.

“Oh, no, I’m still sending you.”

"What?" Hardcase exclaimed, his mouth hanging open. "Weren't you listening? You can’t send me, I won’t be able to deal with all the fucking exams and I’ll –”

“‘Case! ‘Case,” Rex said, holding his hands up. “Did you really think I wouldn't realise you'd struggle with the testing aspect? C'mon, ‘Case, you know me better than that.”

Hardcase blinked at him.

“I don’t understand,” he said slowly. “If you know I’m going to struggle with all the testing, why are you still sending me for loads of testing?”

“I’ve got it all worked out with Seventeen.”

“The Alpha who runs the ARC training?”

“Yeah,” Rex said, leaning back in his chair. “He’s been sneaking shit past the longnecks for years, especially clones who are… non-standard.”

“Do you mean neurodivergent?” Hardcase asked, one eyebrow raised.

“I mean… yeah, but not just that,” Rex tried to explain. “It’s… I mean I didn't hit a single height or weight target until my ninth year. I would’ve been decommissioned if not for him. He figured out how to get around the Longnecks’ testing procedures before I even slipped out my growth tube.”

“I still don’t really get what you mean,” Hardcase said slowly. “Like… how will that help me?”

“Well, I'm not going to lie – there will be a testing element. Seventeen isn’t going to give you ARC creds if he isn’t happy with you, but it’s his standards you need to worry about, not the Longnecks’. I mean, to be honest, they’re higher but… they make more sense.”

“You aren’t filling me with confidence here,” Hardcase said dryly, and Rex grinned at him.

“The main thing is, ARC training isn’t like normal trooper training. It's more about developing your personal skill sets and specialising. Identifying your own strengths and weaknesses. That’s why Echo did a lot of more advanced slicing and Fives did a lot more stealth and evasion stuff. The reports he sends to the longnecks at the end of it… they’re pretty much bullshit.”

Hardcase kept staring at him, face twisted in a disbelieving frown.

“My point,” Rex ploughed on, “is that the tests are pretty non-standard anyway, and mostly practical. But Sev isn’t going to make you do a bunch of timed written stuff, and he’s not going to make you learn that way either. We’ve got your back.”

“So…” Hardcase swallowed, “I can still be an ARC trooper? And I won’t have to do a load of exams that I always suck at?”

“Nah,” Rex said, leaning forwards again. “I mean as far as I’m concerned you and Jesse both already have the skills to be called ARC troopers, this is just… a formality. That sound good to you?”

“I can be an ARC trooper?” Hardcase repeated.

“If you still want it,” Rex replied evenly.

There was a beat, a moment where Hardcase just stared at Rex with his mouth open, and then suddenly Rex was being dragged into a hug across his desk. Hardcase’s biceps pressed his ears flat against his head, somewhat painfully, but the laughter and joy radiating from Hardcase was infectious.

“Oh my gods, oh my gods,” Hardcase stammered. His arms were shaking, even as they tightened around Rex’s head and neck.

“Choking me here buddy,” Rex said, patting Hardcase’s back.

“Sorry, sorry,” Hardcase said. He released Rex abruptly, and scrambled around the chair. “I’m – I’m gonna go tell the guys.”

Rex hadn't even caught his breath back and Hardcase was gone – running from the room and grinning wildly. Rex smiled to himself, scratching his chin and looking down at his desk.

Hardcase was going to do well at ARC training, Jesse too. Seventeen was going to love Hardcase in particular. A clone who had to work just a little bit harder than the average trooper, just to make it through the day. Even better, if those clones pushed themselves even harder for no good reason other than sheer spite to be better than the best.

It was no secret that Wolffe, Fox and Rex were his favourites. Or not so much his favourites, but just… they connected with Seventeen on a different level to the rest. Fox had struggled with anxiety and depression his whole life, Rex with anxiety after his batch bullied and starved him to the brink of death. Wolffe's dyslexia didn't affect him so much once Seventeen figured out that upping the blue tone on his datapads meant he could read more easily, and autocorrect helped him a lot too.

With Wolffe, Rex reckoned Seventeen just saw some of himself in there. A lot, actually. Someone who cared, so so deeply about those around him, but who couldn't show it with words. Grunts, more often.

Actions were the thing you had to look for with those two. Like the way that every time Wolffe was anywhere near Fox, he would inevitably end up with his arm over Fox's shoulder. It was like he had some kind of compulsion to constantly touch his little brother.

Not that Rex would ever tell him to his face, but it was cute as shit. If Fox wasn't there, it would be Rex or Cody. That kid Comet too, more recently.

Rex would bet his left arm that there were clones out there who didn’t even know that they owed their continued existence to Seventeen and the rest of the alphas. The amount of work they do behind the scenes – persuading the longnecks that scraps batches should be a thing, hiding badly injured cadets so they had enough time to get better again, quietly tweaking the testing procedures to help those like Hardcase and Wolffe.

Rex knew he’d probably be dead if not for Seventeen. Cody too, but mainly Seventeen. His original batch would have finally gone too far and beat him more than he could recover from, or he would’ve failed too many growth targets in a row and been decommissioned. Wolffe would’ve failed too many exams if Seventeen hadn’t put so much effort into researching dyslexia and then trying everything under the sun to help Wolffe.

Fox’s anxiety would have been noticed. Maybe he would have been fine – that anxiety had always driven him to get the highest scores pretty much across the board – but what good would a Commander who cried himself to sleep and occasionally had screaming fits be to their precious bottom line?

Hardcase had said he barely scraped through basic training, and Rex had to wonder if he actually did. Maybe some Alpha, maybe even Seventeen himself, had been quietly changing his test scores before the Kaminoans ever even got to look at them.

Their first generation, if you didn't count the Nulls (and Rex tended not to). The cruelty the Alpha clones had had to face as living experiments, pumped so full of growth hormones they’d lived in near constant pain – fully grown adults in just five years. At least they’d only been accelerated to twenty, and not twenty-five like the younger generations. The Kaminoans said they were too aggressive and unstable. Frankly, Rex was frankly amazed they weren’t even more so.

His thoughts had turned towards Seventeen himself, and how maybe that evening Rex should comm him and actually open up to someone about how fucking miserable he was, when his door slid open and Anakin barged in.

“Rex,” he said.

The tone of his voice filled Rex’s veins with ice in under a second. “What?”

“It’s Ahsoka,” Anakin said. “The gathering was attacked by pirates and the Council just lost all contact. We – we have no idea where she is.”

“Shit.”

Notes

I think if one more person tells me that ADHD is a superpower I will show them a short film called comorbid chronic depressive disorder, anxiety, and restless leg syndrome. It's a film of all my major panic attacks, sleepless nights, the times where I don't shower for weeks, with added commentary by my partner about my most manic episodes where neither of us get any sleep.

Hopefully see you all soon. <3

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#captain rex is in trouble #kit fisto x captain rex #captain rex fic #captain rex #madz writes

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pugwitharug · 1 year

Text

Wangshu Nights

A little one-shot I did to try and pull my brain out of the "scrolling through social media" hole, including one of my OCs that I've never shown lol (he will be getting a post tho bc he's my baby)

Fandom: Genshin Impact Characters: Thierry (OC), Xiao Word Count: 2.2k Warnings: None Extra: OC x Canon, fluffy, a little bit of angst but it's bonked out, brief mention of another OC, this is just a first draft so it isn't Pulitzer-prize worthy but I don't think it's half bad

Here's him for reference btw

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Dammit,” Thierry cursed under his breath as another drop of ink splotched the page in his book. He didn’t like the ink they had here in Liyue. Too runny, and it doesn’t work well with the thinner pages from the journal he purchased in Fontaine. It’s meant for one thick page with a brush, not many thin pages with a quill. It pained him to look at the starch difference in the cleanliness of the pages between when he was still in his home country and when he arrived in Liyue.

He shook his head as he continued to write down what happened that day. “Xingling, owner of Mingxing Jewelry at the heart of the Harbor, notes how the resurrection of the Chasm’s mining operations has done little for her store’s supply of gems.” He opened a smaller notebook, one he bought at the Wanwen Bookhouse, and flipped through pages covered in shorthand. “‘We’ve had advance orders on gems since the Chasm shut down, and even though it’s been up and running for months, we still haven’t gotten anything new,” says Xingling. “I don’t know if it’s a sudden lack of precious gems or the refiners we work with being slow.’”

He leaned back in his wooden chair, letting his head fall back to look at the ceiling. A dark wooden sky stared back at him, with no small holes to wink at him like stars. At least Wangshu Inn kept their rooms up to date. With it being the most popular inn in the nation, it probably has to be.

A small ache in his forehead made him close his eyes. Did he not drink enough water, or was the mark on his head acting up again? It was hard to tell sometimes. He should get some water anyways, it’s good to stay hydrated, it helps keep the brain working and writing good articles.

The lamp flickered slightly as he ran a hand through his emerald hair, sitting back upright. He got up and grabbed the water pitcher on the nightstand, filled up a small glass cup, cut so the bottom rim shone like a crystal, and downed the whole glass. Putting it back down, he glanced around the room. A comfortable bed sat next to him, its dark sheets folded carefully by the housekeeper from earlier. He was glad it was soft; it took a while for him to get used to the bed being so low to the ground, and it involved a lot of falling over. His desk was on the adjacent wall, covered in papers and spare ink and excerpts of the Harbor’s own newspaper. A small sitting area with a chair and coffee table in the opposite corner, also with a small pile of books on it. A window brought in the moonlight from outside, spilling onto the middle of the floor. It was a comfortable room, warm and homey.

He glanced at his desk, then glanced at the bed. “I’ll remember in the morning,” he mumbled as he took his purple tassel earring out and started undoing his vest. He was gonna go investigating again tomorrow, and he needed plenty of--

A rumbling from his stomach interrupted his thoughts. Crap, when was the last time he ate? Lunch? “Okay, fine, relax. I’ll get you something,” he sighed as he finished taking his vest off and threw it onto the bed. He left the room and started towards the staircase to the lower level. He thought about what he could make in the kitchen, or ask to be made if Smiley Yanxiao was still there. Why was he called that? He knew he asked that question once, but he didn’t remember the answer. Or if he even got an answer in the first place.

He stepped down the stairs all the way to the kitchen, where the absence of light clued him into the absence of the chef. This kitchen was available to guests, they just had to use their own ingredients. Well…he didn’t have that at the moment, he hadn’t gone shopping recently. But if it was just for one night, who would notice a few almonds gone? Oh, he should make some almond tofu.

The thought of it made him start to salivate a little. It was one of his favorite Liyue dishes. Soft and creamy, not too spicy like everything else is, and easy to make. It also reminded him of someone he’s grown to like recently. He smiled. Maybe he’ll see him again soon.

He entered the kitchen and turned on the light, rummaging around for fresh tofu and almonds. Firing up the stove, he began to cook. Chop up the almonds, make them into a sauce, then fry the tofu. The smell was pleasant, but not quite as mouth-watering as when it was made by the chef.

He looked up at the tall ceiling, wooden beams holding the structure up. Was he there, sitting on the balcony, looking over the marshlands and distant mountains? Should he make a second one, just in case? He glanced back down at the pan on the stove and turned off the flames. He didn’t want to waste more food than he already was. He placed the tofu blocks on a ceramic plate and cleaned the cooking equipment, but just before he left, he grabbed two forks instead of one. Just in case.

Quietly closing the door, he went back to the staircase and started making his way up to the top floor. The fresh night air was calming and made a meal like this more enjoyable. He peeked through the archway leading to the main balcony to make sure that no one else was there. There was, but it was one person he didn’t mind having as company.

Xiao stood right behind the fence, his back lit by the lights in the hallway. The light green tattoo on his left arm curled around his skin, while the spiked pauldron on his right shoulder shone, newly polished. The obsidian mask on his hip snarled at Thierry, daring him to come closer. The jade spear wasn’t affixed to his back, letting his pale skin show.

“I had a feeling you were here,” Thierry smiled as he came up to him.

If Xiao heard him, he didn’t acknowledge it.

That didn’t deter Thierry. He knew Xiao was like this. He stopped next to him--on the left side without the spikes--and set the plate of tofu down on the fence. “I didn’t really know if you were up here for sure, so I didn’t make you your own plate, but if you want to you can share with me.”

Xiao glanced over at him with his piercing golden eyes. He had to look up a bit since he was a few inches shorter than Thierry. “Why would you want to share? You made the food for yourself.”

“Yeah, but sharing food makes it taste better,” he chuckled as he took a fork and pulled off the corner, the metal easily sliding through the tofu. “And I’m probably not gonna eat it all, to be honest. It’s not good to go to bed on a full stomach.”

Xiao stared at the second fork sitting on the plate before uncrossing his arms and taking it. “...thank you.”

“Of course,” Thierry smiled. He looked out where Xiao was, over Dihua Marsh. He could see a few towers from hilichurl camps, but they looked to be empty. “Slaughtered any demons recently?”

“Are you trying to do small talk?”

“I haven’t seen you in a week, I’m trying to catch up. And I don’t think you have any hobbies.”

Xiao was silent for a while. “Yes. I purged some evil from Qingce Village two days ago.”

“That’s good, right?”

“No,” Xiao almost snapped. His brows furrowed, pinching the small purple diamond on his forehead. “It’s not good that there is still evil in this world. It’s not good that I’ve failed at my job.”

Thierry had to hold back a sigh as he put his fork down. “Xiao, you haven’t failed at anything. You’re doing your job perfectly. It’s not your fault that there’s still a bunch of shit in the world, it’s something beyond your control.”

“It shouldn’t be,” Xiao growled.

Thierry rolled his eyes. “Well too bad, it is. The best that you can do is take out anything that gets out of control and starts to harm people.” He reached out and puts a hand on his shoulder. It was cold and tense. “That’s what your job is, right? Not to save the world, but keep humanity safe.”

Xiao looked at Thierry’s hand, a few small splotches of ink on his fingertips--damn runny ink--and slowly started to relax. He looked back out to the marshlands and took another bite of tofu.

“That’s better,” Thierry sighed softly as he let go of his shoulder and finished one of the blocks. “Was there anything positive about this week?”

Xiao had to think for a bit. “I…saw some dogs.”

“Aww, that’s adorable!” Thierry grinned. “Were they cute?”

“The mortal understanding of “cute” is…hard to comprehend.”

“I’ll take that as a yes because all dogs are cute.”

“What about those born in abuse and strife?”

“Cute and brave and stronger than any soldier.” He paused. “No, most soldiers, I know a few that are really strong.” He pointed his fork at Xiao. “You still haven’t met Shui, have you? I think you two could get along.”

Xiao shook his head. “I have no interest in meeting other mortals.”

“First, I know that’s wrong for a fact. Second, I really do think you’d like her. You two are kind of similar.”

Xiao growled again. “I mean other mortals. I’m not talking about you.”

Thierry laughed and nudged his shoulder with Xiao’s. “I know, I’m just messing with you.”

The two stood in comfortable silence for a while, just looking out at the night landscape, the stars brightly lighting the way for them. Even though the stars shine so brightly, sometimes it was hard to see them in Liyue Harbor. It was the same in the capital city of Fontaine. Out here, at the Inn, you didn’t need to strain your eyes to see all the constellations.

When the forks scraped on an empty plate, Thierry stopped looking. “I’ll bring this back.” He grabbed the plate and forks. “Thanks for not running away.” He took a step back to the hallway. “Wait.”

Thierry stopped and looked back, watching as Xiao meet him in the middle of the balcony. A warm breeze blew through, rustling their hair a little. Golden eyes met gray as Xiao hesitantly reached up and, as soft as a baby bird’s feather, cupped Thierry’s cheek.

It still surprised Thierry every time Xiao willingly did this, but it still brought a smile to his face. He put his free hand atop Xiao’s and pressed his cheek into it, filling his cold hand with his own warmth. “You have poor circulation,” he whispered to him.

Xiao didn’t respond and just leaned up, tilting his head a little to the side, his eyes starting to close. Thierry met him in the middle and locked their lips together in a gentle embrace, still new, still mostly unsure. It felt…good. Like a promise he wouldn’t just up and leave when he got bored.

They separated after a few seconds, and Thierry rested their foreheads together, the two marks touching each other. A source of pain leaning on a source of freedom.

“I…don’t want to run away from you,” Xiao whispered after a few more seconds of silence, the first to pull away. He looked at Thierry with sincerity in his eyes.

“Nor do I,” Thierry said, taking Xiao’s hand in his and squeezing it a little. “And I won’t.” He let it go. “I need to sleep, I have a big day tomorrow. I’ll see you when I see you.” He gave Xiao a smile before heading back into the Inn, his lips still tingling a little.

~~~~~

Thierry lay underneath the covers of his bed, the lights out and his glasses folded on the nightstand. The darkness in the room beckoned for sleep to come, but as he started to close his eyes, a faint sound came from outside his window. High-pitched, almost like a bird, and musical. He kept his eyes open to listen closely, and he started to recognize what was going on.

An idea sprung into his head.

He dragged himself out of bed and turned the lamp on again, grimacing at the sudden bright light. He went to his desk and flipped over to the next clean page--or clean enough, given the new ink splotch on the corner. Dipping his quill in ink, he started to write.“On nights filled with unwanted mistakes, simple headaches, and midnight snacks with someone close, if you’re lucky enough, you can hear the song of a lonely yaksha calling out to his past. Past friends, past family, past memories. And if you’re even luckier, you’ll get to hear the song of the future.”

#genshin impact #new game yay #my writing #my characters #oc: thierry #genshin impact xiao #oc x canon #everyone thank my friend for letting me write along with her lol

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zweicurious · 2 years

Text

The Hunter's Chapel (1.2K words)

Have this chapter excerpt from my big ol (very heavily) bloodborne inspired story tentatively titled "Sanguine and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Hunt"

heres hoping it's at least half parsable

He awoke from a dreamless sleep. A funny thing it was, as he could not recall closing his eyes. It was disorientating, being back in the ruins of the stone chapel; the familiar dusty scent of ivy layering the memories of months past overtop the present. The smoke--always the tang of smoke--lingered around him, but as if coals of the firepit were stomped out, crushed, and sifted. Looking up, the moon shone brightly, streaming in through the broken lancet window. Sanguine squinted, used to the harbor haze that hung low in Carbrunne and cloaked the moon gently at night. Only a moment passed before the memory of when Lorcan first had taken Sanguine to this hunter's sanctuary overtook him.

Beyond the smell of ash, there was the stench of that horrible perfume from within Lorcan's locket. It was something Sanguine had noticed once before; and only when it was opened. But as the last of the beast blood worked its way through him, he could smell it through the silver. Perhaps if Lorcan had not been as close as he was, stitching up a wound on Sanguine's shoulder, he would not have been able to smell it at all.

As it was, he couldn't feel the sting of the antiseptic, and felt no more than a dull throbbing spreading through his collarbone. He couldn't see Lorcan-- or much of anything-- without his glasses, but he squinted anyway, trying to catch a glimpse of his face. His heart pounded, and he felt his blood hot underneath his skin. Lorcan was trying to talk to him, or he thought he was. The roaring in his ears drowned most of it out, so he just nodded and winced as the needle pierced his skin. If he closed his eyes, he could almost pretend it was the tide of the sea, washing him over with warmth.

"Sanguine,"

"Huh?"

"Why do you do this?" Lorcan's usual gruffness was absent, but Sanguine could not name what took its place.

"It's not," Sanguine took a moment to swallow, not realizing how dry his mouth had been. "how I've been intending to perform."

"It makes you reckless, you know." His voice was even, but he pulled on Sanguine's stitches a little too sharply as he tied them off. "There won't always be someone to pick you up and put you back together."

"Then why do you do it?" Sanguine asked. "Pity is no substitute for love."

"Not for pity, but not for love, neither."

Sanguine groaned. "Oh, don't tell me that, you'll ruin all the ideas I had about you."

"What, that I pity you?" Lorcan was focused on the wound, and yet Sanguine wondered why he couldn't spare a glance his way.

"I can find pity in abundance," Sanguine said, gesturing with his hand, the one he could feel. "No, that perhaps you like me after all."

Lorcan snorted at that. "It's just a favor I'm doing, that's all." The words registered on some level, and Sanguine silently gave thanks to the blood for both the numbing of the mind as well as the body. The distant sadness itched under his skin, but he was able to dismiss it easily.

Dawn light broke over them, and with it came a morning chill that left Sanguine shivering in his sweat stained undershirt.

"There," Lorcan said, slapping Sanguine on the arm casually, either not noticing or not caring about Sanguine's grimace of pain. "All finished."

"It's fucking cold." Sanguine chattered. "Where's my coat?"

"It won't do you any good, as shredded as it is. You're better off by the fire." Lorcan huffed, wiping his stained hands. Sanguine reached out an arm for support, and Lorcan sighed, grabbing Sanguine's waist and letting him toss his good arm over his shoulder. Sanguine clung to him and let himself be led, exhaustion weighing him down. He didn't struggle outwardly, but Lorcan's limp became more noticeable as he shouldered the bulk of Sanguine's weight. He held him close anyway, and Sanguine let his head fall on his shoulder, catching another hint of that repugnant perfume.

His stomach lurched as Lorcan set him down, the heat of the fire stinging his skin as he tried to warm himself up. He lay on his side, cradling his wounded arm, and watched the flames sputter to life as Lorcan fanned it. He fed it two logs, and sat down next to Sanguine, the two of them watching the fire climb up the wood slowly.

A hollow ache sat heavily on Sanguine's chest, unlike the pains he was accustomed to, brought on by illness. He knew what the name for it was, the emotion that plagued him. It made him wonder what it would feel like for Lorcan to touch him softly, different from the rough contact, born from the necessity of the hunt. He was close, perhaps closer than usual, and it would be so easy for him to brush a calloused hand against Sanguine's cheek. He was too tired to stop himself from thinking about it, as he often did. Longing for that closeness, he reached his hand out to the fire, feeling the heat as close as he could before it burned his fingertips.

"I should be heading back," Lorcan said, cutting through Sanguine's thoughts and grounding him in harsh reality. Though he left out the word home, Sanguine felt its implication. All the other hunters had headed out some time late last night, while Lorcan had stayed with him to stitch him up.

"You couldn't stay longer?" Sanguine cringed as he said it, his voice thick with the dejection of an infatuated child.

Lorcan shook his head. "You'll manage. And the blood will keep you alive anyhow."

Sanguine was at a loss for words; he couldn't tell him exactly why he should stay, or why Sanguine wanted him to in the first place.

Instead he said, "The fire's burning low." It was a desperate plea, and Sanguine knew it. He just hoped that it wasn't as apparent to Lorcan as it was to him.

"I'll build it up for you," and he did, arranging two logs parallel and vertically, and then two logs on top of those, laid horizontally. He did this twice more with smaller pieces of wood, and fanned it one more time. Sanguine watched him work, hanging on to the precious few moments he could steal. Disappointment stung him as he slowly came to terms with Lorcan's leaving.

He finished stoking the fire, and Sanguine stared into it, dread making him unable to meet Lorcan's eyes as he picked up his axe and his hat. He stepped through the threshold, into the cold, dark morning, without so much as a goodbye. Sanguine waited, unsure of the exact reason. What he wanted was a hopeless thing; for Lorcan to turn back around, and lay Sanguine's head in his lap, talking to him in a low voice until he drifted off. He wanted him to reveal a gentleness Sanguine had never known him to possess. He chided himself, knowing well Lorcan could never choose him over the life he lived outside the hunt. And yet the wanting left him sick, and deluded him into making his fantasies sound almost reasonable.

As the warmth of fire lulled him to sleep, Sanguine thought absently to himself that he preferred pity to obligation.

#STEALINK lizas formatting. yoink #oc

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gaoau · 5 months

Text

nyanza

it's the color of leaves.

is there color in your world? warnings — none. word count — 1.2k

prev. — next.

the last day before summer break let out early. club activities were off, since probably most clubs would spend their free time—which was a lot of it—working on them. for suna and the rest of his teammates, that meant they had no practice.

suna took the opportunity to head home as soon as the bell sounded. he scrolled lazily through his phone, trying to pretend the walk from the school building to the exit wasn't as endless as he was making it out to be. his eyes flew towards the empty benches and back to his screen.

the weather called for rolled-up sleeves and no blazer. the sun shining down on the cherry blossoms threatened a heatstroke for anyone that stayed under its rays. it made sense that [surname] wasn't waiting to give him a color. she had sent him one a few days prior, anyway.

as he walked through the gates, a sneeze managed to pull him away from his social media feed. suna spared a measly glance to the side before continuing the journey to his bed.

[surname]'s voice tangled around his feet to trip him on the sidewalk. "damn…" it sounded nasal and muffled, and a few sniffles followed her curses.

suna blinked. was [surname] really crouching over some bushes or was the heat playing tricks on his exhausted brain? there was no way he was actually bumping into her outside the school, a day before summer started and they stayed away from each other for more than a month. what were the odds?

she hadn't taken notice of him, too busy mumbling intelligible nonsense to herself. suna could take his leave and pretend she hadn't made him stop in his tracks again. "[surname]?" but he went and called to her.

her mouth clamped shut at the familiar sound of his voice. she craned her neck, looking over her shoulder while brushing her hair out of the way. "ah, suna-kun," she spoke as if she didn't know, "headin' home?"

suna nodded. "what are you doing?" he realized the muffling of her words came from the facemask she wore. it accentuated her intense staring; it was all he could see.

"oh, come meet 'er." her fingers beckoned him to walk closer, like a fish being pulled in after it foolishly bit down on the bait.

"her?"

her, indeed. he stepped next to [surname], finding a cat eating hastily from between the grass blades. its fur boasted all colors; grey and orange and white and brown and black and suna understood why she liked this cat.

her long nails scratched the animal behind her ears. she didn't react as she kept munching her food. "meet nyanza-chan, she's a stray." her mask covered her lips, but he could hear the smile in her words.

"nyanza?"

"yeah, y'know." her eyes found his. they were crinkled as she raised her fist to imitate a cat paw. "nya."

suna cringed and didn't bother to hide his disgust. "don't do that ever again."

her cackles got lost when they bounced against her mask. she raised both hands in mock-surrender. "have fun on yer break, suna-kun." she forgot he couldn't see her smile as she offered him a grin.

nyanza couldn't possibly care less about the attention she was receiving. suna stood by with a confused frown. that was all, [surname] dismissed him like she hadn't been the one to pester him first.

"we have the inter-high preliminaries coming up," he blurted before he could stop himself.

"ah, i'm sure yer trainin' hard. have fun with that. yer strong so you'll manage."

"you'll be there to cheer, right?"

"maybe." she shrugged. "not like i've much of a choice."

"you don't like cheering for us?"

"ain't that. i think you guys could win without cheatin'."

that was a first. [surname] always taught him new firsts. "cheating?"

"when we start booin' and messin' up the other team's serves. it ain't like you lot dunno what yer doing, so i don't get why we do it. not my business, anyway. foxes're sly like that, i guess."

she seemed to have put a lot of thought into that answer. nyanza finished her food, prompting [surname] to stand up and make him bite his tongue. she pulled sanitizer from her satchel, rubbed her hands clean, and tore the mask off her face. her knuckles dug into her eyes.

suna realized the reddish hue glowing around her sclera.

"are you okay?"

"'m allergic to cats," she chortled, "but i figured nyanza-chan could use my help. she was injured when i found 'er."

"sounds like something you'd do."

the beam that crept onto her lips nearly melted his eyes. "ya think?" suna only shrugged. [surname] laughed, and now he could hear it loud and clear. "see ya after break, suna-kun, don't miss me too much."

"friendly reminder i have your number." yet he never messaged her.

"that won't do. i spend my summer breaks away at my grandparents' farm. not a very good signal there." her giggles flowed smoothly like crystal water in a river. "i won't bother ya for a while, so get some rest. have fun with yer volley stuff." the same fingers that had reeled him closer waved goodbye.

she fixed her grip on her satchel, cooing nyanza's name one last time before separating for the summer. the cat didn't even know she had a name as she clawed her fleas away. [surname] chuckled to herself and started her walk home down the sidewalk.

suna glared at her back while it moved far from him. "[surname]." he surprised himself sometimes.

[surname] almost tripped over her own two feet. she turned towards him, eyes soft and round. "yeah?"

"send me one more before you go."

"send…? a… color?" she mumbled. a frown wrinkled her forehead.

suna simply nodded in response. he really should learn to keep his mouth shut.

"oh. well. i guess nyanza works."

"the cat?"

"that, too," she laughed. "i named her nyanza 'cause she was covered in leaves when we met." her gaze fell onto the colorful cat.

he followed her. "so nyanza is green?"

"yeah, lemme just…" her phone popped out from the sleeve of her shirt. he watched as she tapped her thumbs on the screen to input her password; it seemed long. "wait, no." and then she locked it and hid it away.

suna's brows furrowed in a knee-jerk reaction.

[surname] pointed her finger up to the tree providing them shelter from the scorching sun. "these leaves're just right. nyanza's a light shade of green right in the middle of green and yellow. like these leaves."

"oh. thanks, i guess."

"well, my job here's done. see ya, nyanza-chan, suna-kun." she tossed a wave over her shoulder. her hair swayed as she disappeared down the street with weightless steps.

suna nodded and muttered, "see you." he wanted to stay under the rustling nyanza leaves for a second longer.

#is there color in your world?#Haikyuu #Suna Rintarou #Suna Rintarou x Reader #Suna x Reader #Haikyuu x Reader

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patxhwrk · 2 years

Text

Haha guess who my favourite genshin character is i bet you wouldnt

Anyways i got bored and my brain gave me a plot idea and praised itself for it so now its making me write it

-ˋˏ✄— Endearing

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳ Il Dottore x Reader

Pronouns: they/them

"Little trinkets from Il Dottore had always been endearing."

.navigation. // .genshin impact masterlist.

Sighing heavily, Y/n watched calm waves kiss at their feet, before retreating back to the ocean, who's reflections of the cloudless sky bring shimmering lights upon a sullen face.

How long had they been in Liyue? Surely Tartaglia had finished his mission by now.

'Why did I have to be here?' They asked to none but themself. 'I just wanna go back to Snezhnaya, the frost biting chill of Dottore's lab is more bearable than he scorching heat of summers in Liyue.'

Perhaps it had been months since they'd last seen the blue haired doctor, manically laughing to himself as his hands easily and swiftly moved around one of his mechanisms.

They missed watching him, from a safe distance, his eccentric coat wrapped around them, quietly tinkering with a small object that Dottore gave them weeks prior. They missed the hums of interest as the man thought of hundreds or millions of ways to dismantle the ruin guard. They missed the little glances he gave them, giving himself assurance that they were still there, not near enough for his experiments to do harm to them, but not far enough so he would be assured that they were there, in his lab, safe with him.

They missed Il Dottore and his little endearing antics.

Waves rushed along the sand, the shoreline evident as the water rushed off to find a riptide, to return to the ocean where it lay home to.

Footsteps approached, and Y/n didn't spare a glance as they knew weary footsteps only belonged to one of Tartaglia's agents.

"My lord," the pyro agent bowed, standing a few feet back from where they sat. They never liked the title. With a role below the Harbingers but above all else, being called 'my lord' didn't sit well. "A package has arrived in Northerland Bank, from Il Dottore. I have brought it along with me, in case you would have wanted it now."

A hum, a glance over he shoulder with a raised brow, and a curious glint to their eye was all the pyro agent needed to know as he slowly approached them. Bowing, he presented the package with outstretched arms.

Gingerly taking the package, Y/n inspected the well cared for box, a ribbon with a familiar shade of blue keeping it closed.

They nodded, and the pyro agent disappeared into a cloud of shadows, swiftly moving away and back to his original post on Liyue Harbor.

Softly brushing heir hands against the blue ribbon, they lightly tugged at it, pulling it apart and wrapping it around their wrist.

Opening the box, they were met with an adorable little plush, blue hair in messy waves, red eyes peeking out from a mask, and sharp, toothy grin visible from its right side.

"How adorable," they said. "It's a little you!"

A note, familiar rushed handwriting scibbled in dark ink.

'For you, my dear. Press on the hand, you'll find a surprise. —Il Dottore.'

A chuckle left their lips, and doing as the note said, they gently pressed on the gloved hand of the Dottore plush.

"...Is this working?" They could hear his voice echo from the plush. "Hmm, it seems to be functional."

A cough echoed, and a manical laugh followed.

"Ah, my dear! It seems that another one of my experiments have worked, yet again!" Another cough, and Dottore's voice turned softer, a tone he'd only use around Y/n. "How are you faring in the land of the Geo Archon? Has Tartaglia troubled you at all?"

Y/n chuckled. Of course, the first thing he would do is ask how they are. Dottore had always been protective, especially around the ginger Harbinger.

"...No matter, you can always send me a letter back. This is a mere recording, after all. It has been torterous long weeks since I've seen you. It's agitating, really. I find my subordinates more incompetent, and days grow longer. How much longer do you have to be so far for? I've spent my remaining time tinkering with this device. But, it seemed like a mere recording box was a bit too little. So, I ordered one of the Snezhnayan toymakers to create this...plush of me. I paid them a more than fair amount, worry not. I've put the recording inside, hoping you'll have something of me during your remaining time in Liyue."

A long pause followed after, and Y/n assumed the recording had finished.

"...Come back as soon as you can and safely. Please."

It was quiet, lower than a whisper, and Y/n could sense the slight desperation in his voice. Sure, they had sent messages back and forth, but they were so busy and the distance bewteen Snezhnaya and Liyue was not small, so it was no easy task.

Y/n smiled, knowing that Il Dottore truly did care for them.

"I should probably tell Tartaglia that if he keeps me here for longer, Dottore might kill him."

Or, perhaps they would keep that to themself, see what the ginger would do under the doctor's sharp glares.

—PATCHWRK !

#genshin impact x reader #genshin impact #dottore #dottore x reader #il dottore #genshin x gn reader #genshin x male reader #genshin x gender neutral reader #genshin

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lipstickstainz · 3 years

Text

true lies - s. r. (14/15)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Series Summary: Spencer is furious, when you rejoin the team after a year and after you left him, when he got arrested. Little does he know, that you leaving him was the only option to ever get him out of prison.

Chapter Summary: Leaving is the only option - right?

Warnings: angst, blood (but not much), break up, drug addiction (mentioned), alcohol consumption

Word Count: 3.3k

A/N: hello lovies. I'm back and my mind is full of ideas! I hope you like it! gif not mine.

Series Masterlist

previous chapter

You watch the coffee in your cup as if it has all the answers for the future hidden in the caffeine. It's eight o'clock in the morning, and this is already your third cup of the sacred liquid, and you're sure it won't be your last. The shadows under your eyes are a sign of your nightmares that haunted you last night. The fact that you have them doesn't bother you, after all, you've been going through the procedure for months. What bothers you is the fact that you couldn't wake yourself up this time. You've gotten in the habit of pinching yourself when it would get too painful, but something stopped you last night. And the fact that you don't know what exactly bothers you the most.

"Y/N." Emily's voice pulls you out of your thoughts and you have to tear your gaze away from your coffee. "What do you think?"

All eyes are on you and out of nervousness you'd like to slide around in your chair, but suppress the urge. You haven't been listening for the last few minutes, too busy with your own thoughts and problems that you can't answer her. The case is supposed to be your last, and you're trying hard to enjoy it and value the time with your friends, but really you're just waiting for it all to be over. Most of all, you want to pack your things and leave.

You barely noticeably shake your head for Emily to continue, and turn your attention back to your coffee, which must be cold by now, but that doesn't stop you from drinking it down to the last drop. Without saying anything, you get up from your chair to get another one, paying no attention to Emily's annoyed look. As you fill your cup in the precinct kitchen, she stands right next to you.

"You're not being very helpful, Y/N," she says coolly as you take a sip. You know her manner is all pretense, because in reality she's incredibly concerned. She only needs to look at your face once to know what's going on in your head, but she doesn't address it. She knows you'll talk to her when the time is right. But you're not sure that will ever happen. "I've already assigned the tasks. You stay here and work with Spencer to gather all the important information that may be relevant to Penelope's research." The look on your face says it all. You don't want to spend any time with Spencer, and certainly not alone, but Emily gives you no choice. Before you can say anything back, she disappears out the door with the others.

With your coffee, which you now wish had a strong shot of vodka in it, you make your way back into the conference room, where Spencer is bent over the table, passing pictures and notes back and forth. You stop in the doorway and watch him for a brief moment, and only then do you notice the narrow, red scratch on his face that stretches from his cheek to his neck. You squint your eyes. It hadn't been there yesterday after all.

"What happened?“, you ask as casually as you can as you sit down and set your cup down on the table. As Spencer looks at you questioningly, you point to his face. "Looks bad." Indeed it does, though it's just a scratch. There's bloody crust in a few places, contrasting in color with his pale skin. Something really got to him.

"Cut myself shaving“, he replies curtly, glancing again at the pictures in front of him. You haven't seen him in two years, don't actually remember who he is exactly, but you still know when he's lying. And when to stop asking and let it go. When Penelope calls, you discuss some stuff and you see Spencer scratching over the wound until it bleeds, which he doesn't seem to notice, which is why you stall Penelope on the phone and grab his hand as soon as the line goes silent. Astonished, he looks at you before looking at his fingers.

"Come with me“, you say briefly and don't even wait for him to follow you. You approach an officer and ask for a first aid kit, which is immediately made available to you. Spencer follows you uncertainly into one of the washrooms, where you already put on the disposable gloves from the box - you don't want any bacteria to get on the wound - and wet a towel from the towel dispenser. Reluctantly, Spencer leans against one of the sinks, waiting for your instructions.

"Tilt your head to the side a little, please." You take the damp cloth and gently dab along the scratch to remove the dried blood. Spencer has to swallow at the touch and you see his Adam's apple bob, and really it shouldn't be that attractive, unfortunately it is anyway. You have to concentrate because this is the closest you've been to him in years. You breathe in his scent, feel his warmth through your gloves, and can barely stifle a deep breath.

"How do you know how to do that?“, he asks softly as you disinfect the wound, and Spencer has to pull himself together to keep from reacting to the burning from the alcohol.

You look at him briefly before turning your attention back to the scratch. „Experience“, you reply, spreading some wound healing ointment over it before taking off your gloves and disposing of everything in the trash can. You then put the first aid kit back together. As you turn around, Spencer is standing right in front of you.

"You didn't tell me you were having nightmares“, he whispers, and confused, you look at him. There's concern in his gaze, and if you're not mistaken, a little affection too, but you push the thought aside, not letting yourself have hope. Hope has only harmed you lately you have not moved forward a bit.

You look once more at the scratch, and then into his warm eyes. "You didn't cut yourself shaving“, you count one and one together and clench your jaws. He doesn't need to answer. You did this to him, you just don't remember. The reason you didn't wake up is Spencer. He was probably holding you, reassuring you so much that your body turned off its protective mechanism. It had certainly been the last time he did that, and you hadn't been awake to enjoy it.

"Why didn't you tell me about this?“, he asks, wanting to reach for your hand, but you take a step back. You don't want him to touch you. You'd prefer it if you weren't in this situation at all. You'd prefer that you hadn't come back at all. None of this should have ever happened.

"It's none of your business anymore, Spencer." Your tone is cool and something in his face changes.

"I thought we were friends."

You have to suppress a laugh. Two years ago, you could have lived well with being friends with him. You were prepared for it then, wished it on him, and meant it sincerely. Only lately you've been through so much that you can't even imagine it anymore. The two years had been hell, but you are sure that you can't live next to him without being able to be with him. You can't watch him and Max be happy together, and even though his happiness is everything you want, you'd rather he be happy with you. But you can't tell him that, it would be unfair and selfish. So you just look at him.

Then you reach for the small suitcase and push past him towards the exit.

You're glad when the case is over and you arrive back at Quantico. It's been a week since you and Spencer spoke, and luckily for you, you've continued to be spared nightmares, for which you're quite grateful. Not that Spencer is going to join you in bed one more time to calm you down.

As you walk from the airfield back to the building, you fall back a bit, watching the team joke and laugh with each other despite their fatigue. Most of all, you'd like to leave right now without saying goodbye. Rip off the band-aid, without anesthesia. Short and painless. But your plan is foiled when Emily suddenly walks up beside you and puts a hand on your arm.

"We're going for a drink." She raises an eyebrow expectantly. Apparently she's waiting for you to decline the invitation, and all too gladly you'd like to meet her expectations, but it's almost certainly the last night you'll see each other, at least for an extended period of time, and short and painless wouldn't be fair to her - your best friend.

You smile at her. "You're paying for the first round."

Her eyes widen in delight, but before she can say anything back, Luke, who has overheard your conversation, interferes. "We're going out for drinks?" A grin spreads across his face, almost reaching his ears, and suddenly the rest of the team pricks up their ears. Luke's gaze is fixed on you. "I bet I can drink you under the table by now, Y/N."

„You can’t“, Matt replies, and you see Rossi smile to himself. "Last time you did that, you almost passed out after four shots."

"JJ got the drinks. Maybe she mixed something in“, Luke tries to defend himself, but the blonde raises her hands.

"I'm not responsible for your kindergarten drinking. But I'd love to see you try to drink Y/N under the table." She smiles at you and winks, and you can't help but grin. It feels good to know that all is well between you and the team, even though they know with a high probability that you won't be staying. You'd understand if they were mad at you, but that doesn't seem to be the case. JJ looks at Spencer, who is being less than forthcoming. "You coming, Spence?"

He risks a quick glance in your direction before adjusting the bag on his shoulder. He knows this will be your last night. And that you won't see each other again after this. "I think I'll sit this one out“, he replies curtly, but JJ nudges him and he gives her a dirty look.

"You can't avoid it, Spence."

You'd rather he'd gone home.

The first drinks are on Emily, as promised, and the ones after that are on Rossi, and it's actually not long before Luke is sitting at the table with a glass of water, wishing he'd slowed down. You grin at him from the dance floor where JJ and you are swinging your hips, and he sticks his tongue out at you before putting his head in his hands and sipping water through the straw in his glass.

JJ reaches for your hand and pulls you close before wrapping her arms around your neck. "I'm going to miss you“, she almost yells so you can hear her over the loud music. You smile weakly at her. There's a glint in her eyes, probably from the alcohol, and only now do you realize how much you're really going to miss her.

"I'm going to miss you too“, you reply, risking a quick glance in Spencer's direction. He's sitting next to Luke, looking completely out of place. You look back to JJ and without further ado, she puts her hands to your cheeks and presses a kiss to your mouth. When she pulls away from you again, she just grins at you. "What was that for?"

"I want you to know that we love you. We all do. Remember that when you're lonely, and call if you need anything. You are and always will be a part of our weird family."

You wait a brief moment before pulling away from her and disappearing into the ladies' room. As soon as the door slams shut, tears stream down your cheeks and you have to hold onto the edge of the sink to keep from breaking down. You were aware of how much the others would miss you, but hearing it from JJ only makes it more real. By leaving, you're not only leaving Spencer behind, but everyone else as well, and that's so selfish of you that bile rises inside you and you almost throw up. You wish you hadn't had those last two drinks.

"Y/N?" You don't have to turn around to know it's Spencer. You recognized his voice and can see him in the mirror above the sink.He's standing behind you, unsure of what exactly to do, which is why he buries his hands in his pants pockets and looks at you silently.

You wipe the smeared mascara from under your eyes before turning and leaning against the basin. "This is the ladies' room, Spencer. You're not supposed to be in here.“

"I'm right where I'm supposed to be“, he replies, but doesn't move from the spot. He watches you brush your hair out of your forehead and wipe at your hot face to get rid of the tears. "You don't have to go. You know that, right?"

You look up from your shoes, straight into his eyes. "Yes, I do."

You want to leave the washroom, but his fingers curl around your arm, holding you back. "Y/N ..."

"I can't stay, Spencer. I can't look at you without knowing that someone other than me is waiting for you at home. I can't watch you be happy without me. It's okay, really. It's just that I don't have the strength to watch it anymore." The words just bubble out of you, and for some reason you can't stop. But it feels good to say it out loud, even though you certainly shouldn't. "I love you, Spencer. I'll always love you. But I'm at the end of my rope." You shrug in exasperation. "I have to think about me. I can only think about me." Spencer's face contorts painfully, but you can't stop. "To think that you're about to go to Max's and do God knows what ..." You shake your head, as if it might drive the thoughts from your mind. "I feel like I - I - I can't breathe. Like I'm going to die. And I just can't take it anymore."

Spencer's hand comes away from your arm at your honesty, but only to grab your hand and pull you against him. You bounce against his chest, wanting to pull away, but he holds you tight and presses you to him with his other hand. Carefully, he places his palm against your cheek and gently strokes your skin with his thumb. "Please, don't go."

You look into his eyes, which have filled with tears. "Why not?"

You can practically see him struggling with himself. He wants to say something, but can't find the right words, so he presses his lips together and lets his forehead sink against yours. All he has to do is say it, and you'd throw all your plans out the window and stick around. Just a few words. But he doesn't say them. "I can't ..."

You take a deep breath before pulling away from him, disappointed. „Goodbye“, you whisper, before leaving him alone in the washroom.

Spencer sits uncertainly at the kitchen table, watching the tea bag with lemon balm in the cup in front of him. He doesn't actually like lemon balm, but he needs something to calm his nerves and get the trembling of his hands under control as he sits there searching for the right words.

The last time he had felt this helpless, Emily had just left his apartment and he had been about to make some phone calls. The first call would have been to a man who would have given him a different number. The second phone call would have been to a woman who would have transferred him. And the third number belonged to someone who would have given him what he was only too happy to get.

Many years ago, he had sworn to himself that he would never resort to it again. That he wouldn't need it. He would be stronger than the desire to feel nothing more. The only thing that had stopped him was that you would never wish that for him. That you had helped him then, had stood by him. He didn't want it to be in vain.

Spencer hates feeling so helpless, even though he actually knows exactly what he has to do now. That's why he sits in the kitchen in the middle of the night, cup of calming tea in hand, not daring to look at the woman sitting across from him. But he doesn't need to say anything either. She knows why he was at her door at such a late hour. They sit in silence, neither quite knowing what to do. Neither of them has been in this situation before. Spencer is glad she's the first to speak.

"So that's it." It's more of a statement than a question. Spencer nods silently, whereupon she purses her lips. "Because of her?"

Spencer looks up from his cup and looks directly at Max. Then he shakes his head. "No, not because of her."

She raises an eyebrow. "But what? Don't you dare give me that 'it's not you, it's me' tour. I've heard that one before."

Spencer has to think for a moment, find the right words, before he answers. "I've lost her so many times. I wouldn't survive it another time."

The two have known each other long enough. Max knows he's not exaggerating or meaning it metaphorically. He has told her about his addiction, and she had been very grateful at the time that he was so honest with her, even though they hadn't known each other long. Spencer knows that all of this is not healthy and psychologically quite far from reasonable and Maxine knows what she has gotten herself into. But no one could have guessed that it would end this way.

"I'm sorry." Spencer's voice sounds hoarse and raspy. He stands up and makes his way toward the apartment door.

"I hope you make it." There's so much honesty in her voice that Spencer has to smile sadly over his shoulder.Maxine doesn't deserve this. None of you deserve this.

The walk to Emily's apartment is short, but to Spencer it feels like an eternity. The train is late, which is why he actually starts running, afraid of missing his chance. He runs until his lungs are burning and his bag is banging painfully against his ribs.The few people left on the streets look at him askance, but he doesn't care. He's panting, barely getting his breath and wishing he was a little more athletic, but as he sprints around the next corner he can already see the building where Emily's apartment is located.

For a brief moment he considers taking a break, catching his breath, but he can't wait another second. Hopefully he's not too late.

He's not surprised that he can just walk into the building, even though he doesn't have a key. He sprints up the stairs, and runs down the hallways until he's gasping for breath and standing in front of the right door, his head high. He bangs on the door with a clenched fist, hoping it will open and he won't be too late. He can't be late. He can't be late.

Finally, the door opens, and for the first time in years, he can take a real breath.

"Y/N."

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#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid angst #spencer reid blurb #spencer reid headcanon #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fic #spencer reid true lies #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #Emily prentiss #aaron hotchner #Jennifer jareau #luke alvez #Matthew simmons

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sinswithpleasure · 3 years

Text

The Playgirl (ft. LOONA's Yves) [Part 2] [Female Reader]

---------------

Hello! I'm back with part 2!

Futa!Yves x Fem Reader, just in case ya forgot.

If you prefer, this is also on AO3 and AFF!

---------------

Yves shows up on time for tutoring, to your surprise.

"Hey baby."

"Don't 'baby' me."

"Sure. Let's start."

"Alright. Open up the textbook. We're starting from the basics. I've printed out some of the prerequisites for this topic, since what you did last time wasn't up to standard due to lack of practice of the basics. Now…"

Yves listens attentively. In fact, things go a bit too smoothly for the both of you. Yves doesn't make any cheeky quip, pull out any pet names, or flirt with anyone that passes by. The womanizing playgirl you knew disappears, and in its place is a focused, dedicated young woman. Sometimes, you even find yourself staring at her work on the problems in front of her. The change is… welcome, to say the least.

Your eyes roam Yves's styled hair, swiped back to expose her forehead, down to her beautiful large eyes, button nose, and full lips.

God, you're gay. Sure, you're literally admiring the beauty of the most insufferable bane of the universe, but you're just so fucking gay and hot people are hot, no matter how irritating they are, so...

When your eyes shift back up, you're met with Yves's smirk.

"See something you like, babe?"

Fuck.

"N-no."

"Liar."

"Fuck off." You rush to change the subject. "How're you doing?"

"I've been done for a while. You would know if you weren't spending the time looking at me."

You refuse to dignify her with a response, checking through the solved problems. With your coaching, Yves manages to get two more questions correct as compared to last time, but she still makes some simple mistakes.

"Okay, here's the issue. In question two…"

---------------

Yves continues to show up for every tutoring session. Somehow, a week passes by, and it is now Friday.

"Good afternoon, babygirl."

"Don't 'babygirl' me. How many times do I have to say it?"

"Mm, whatever. How're you doing?"

"Why do you care?"

Yves pulls out the chair next to you, leaning back on it, resting her legs on the table. She turns to you, grinning.

"Of course I'd care! You're my tutor, and if you don't feel good, you won't be able to teach me properly. If I don't get taught, I won't learn, then I'll fail, and I don't get to win. You know that I always win."

"I'm not sleeping with you."

"That's what you say, but not what you mean."

"Fuck you."

"That's what you'll be doing in five months' time."

"No I won't. Bring out the Calc textbook. We're going through Chapter 4 today."

"Alright, babygirl."

----------------

The change in Yves becomes apparent when she somehow is present earlier than you on Monday morning.

"Yves?"

"Oh, hey babe."

You sigh at the pet name, but having heard her call you that for quite some time now, it doesn't grind your gears as much anymore.

"Don't 'babe' me."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever."

Yves returns her attention to the papers she is working on, and the familiar math problems catch your eye.

"Calc?"

"Yeah. I promised I'll be the best student. Here I am."

"We'll see about that."

"You're looking at it right now." Yves rises from her chair, and in a flash, she has her arm around your waist, her face inches from yours. "I'm going to win, babygirl."

"G-Get off me!" Your face reddens instantly at the close proximity of your lips to hers. Memories of the chaste kiss Yves planted take front and center stage, and you can't help but look away from Yves.

"You're so pretty."

Yves has her gaze locked on your lips, then to your eyes. She is so close, too close, even. Heat flashes all over your body—every touch Yves leaves on you seems to burn.

"I mean it. You're gorgeous."

"T-Thank you."

The smug smirk never leaves Yves's face. She releases you from her smoldering gaze and grip, but she leaves you with a rapidly beating heart and a large distraction for the day to come.

When class begins, Yves tries to take the time to listen to the professor. However, she is soon back to her old ways, flicking paper balls at classmates and being on her phone more than she listens.

"Yves."

"Yeah, baby?" She meets your gaze, her tongue darting out to moisten her dry lips. Her hands carry on working on moulding another tiny paper ball.

"You're not listening."

"I am!"

"What was the last thing the prof said?"

"Um…"

You roll your eyes.

"Best student, my ass."

"I made that promise to you, not to him."

"You won't learn if you don't listen to him either. How're you going to be the best if you can't even do that?"

"Oh, so that's how it is?"

"That's right." You think hard about the words you want to say next, but maybe… maybe it is worth the risk. After all, Yves is still the bane of your existence, but she could be less of that if she keeps up her effort in trying to learn.

"You don't get to fuck me if you're not the best."

You watch as Yves freezes. She stares at you, her jaw hanging, before she steels her gaze to your eyes, staring deep into your soul.

"So this is how you wanna play, babygirl?"

"Yeah." You can feel your bravado slowly disappearing.

"Fine. I'll listen. I'll play by your rules."

Yves leans to your ear, her breath sending shivers down your spine. Her deep whisper makes you shudder.

"You will be mine at the end of the year, baby. I promise you: I'll ace my exams, and you'll love me for it."

Perhaps provoking your seatmate wasn't the best idea. Now you have to deal with the deep flush on your face and neck, as well as the heat between your legs.

---------------

A month passes.

Every week, the same things go by—tutoring, classes, more tutoring, more classes. However, what changes is how close you and Yves get with each other. By no means were the both of you friends, but she isn't as much of a thorn in your side anymore.

[yves💘 sent a message:]

Baby

I need a bit more help with the math from the last chapter.

Can I see you this weekend?

Saturday, 10am, Seoul U entrance?

[You sent a message:]

Sure.

I'll see you.

[yves💘 sent a message:]

Good.

Dress nicely, baby. It's a date.

[You sent a message:]

Fuck off.

You groan when Yves manages to charm you through text. Outfit ideas are already flowing through your head, and you sink your face into the comfort of your palms. Why do you even care about looking pretty for Yves?⁶

Well… that genuine grin she flashed after a muffled gasp of surprise when you wore a dress once in the past month was gorgeous on her. That was why.

You remember Yves actually having the slightest hint of a blush when looking at you, and she seemed to be a little less flirty that day, opting to take short glances at you when she thought you weren't watching. This newfound attention was… welcome. You couldn't deny feeling shy having Yves check you out. After all, you were just the nerd girl in class, and having this attention from a hot girl you could consider a crush not as much of a pain in your ass felt so good.

-----

Saturday arrives, and here you are, waiting outside Seoul University.

You choose to keep things simple: just a simple button-down dress with daisies printed on the fabric. Your hair is tied up in a cute bun. The pink backpack you carry completes the look, with a nice pair of flats.

The sun isn't too bright, and a cool breeze keeps you comfortable while waiting. You can't help but get nervous, though you know it is irrational to feel so. After all, this is just another study session. However, Yves's text to you earlier in the week keeps flashing across your eyes.

'Dress nicely, baby. It's a date.'

You know this is just a study session. However, a part of you dimly wishes that it isn't, before you hurriedly bash those thoughts with a hammer and then set them on fire.

The revving of a motorbike catches your attention before it zooms down the road. You can see the bike move across the lanes, then slowing to a stop in front of you. The rider, clad in all black leather, complete with jacket and boots, seems to freeze in front of you, before slowly drawing the helmet off their head.

"Hey, babygirl."

Yves grins at you, her eyes sweeping over your body. Her gaze lands on your legs, moving up to your torso, your chest, and then to your eyes and hair.

The next words she mutters are meant to be kept to herself, but you hear her anyway.

"Fuck, you're gorgeous."

Your heart takes off, pounding against your chest. You try to hide the flush on your face by staring at the ground, but you field a gaze to Yves, who looks a bit like a deer caught in headlights. She looks so handsome, so cool, and downright fucking hot at the same time.

Hmm… What would it feel like being pinned under her again?

The intrusive thought you have gets stamped out instantly, but the effect lingers—you can't help but check Yves out, feeling a rush of heat deep within your loins.

Her agreement with you was starting to look more and more appealing. Maybe you do have to teach her well.

"Get on."

"What?"

"Let's go. I gotta park the bike, and the cafe isn't close by. Get on."

Yves hands you a spare black helmet, and you hesitantly take it.

"Don't kill me."

"I won't." She grins. "I like you too much to think about doing that."

Your breath catches in your throat. It's not uncharacteristic of her to say things like that so easily, but maybe… just maybe… you want her to mean it.

You get onto the bike as Yves holds it steady. You don't know where to put your hands, but Yves grabs your arms, pulling them to wrap around her waist.

"Hold on tight, babygirl."

"Okay." You can't believe what's happening right now.

"I'm gonna go."

The engine revs.

-----

Yves trails behind you as both of you make your way to the cafe. Yves is quiet along the way, unlike her usual flirting if she caught you staring at her. When you glance back to her, you see her eyes dart away from you, staring at the floor as she swipes her hair back.

Weird.

"Hey, are you okay?"

"Oh, yeah. Never been better, baby." Her reply is unconvincing, especially with a forced grin, but you don't want to really push her for a reply.

"Er… Okay. Sure."

Both of you make your way into the cafe, stopping by the counter to grab the menu. When you sit down at a table, Yves sits across you, her eyes locked onto you as you peruse your options.

"You're staring a lot today, Yves."

"Oh, um, er…" She looks away, her voice soft. This is very unlike her.

"Are you really okay?"

"Yeah, baby. I'm feelin' great, ready to learn, and get good." She leans back, resting her hands on the armrests of her chair.

Oh.

She has a crop top on.

Oh my fucking God, she has abs.

You short circuit.

Two columns of defined muscle greet your eyes, as if to mock you. It wasn't like she was someone you didn't find hot. Now, you have to find out that she also has abs?!

Your mouth dries instantly, and you grab your bottle, taking a swig. The cool liquid quenches your physical thirst, but your mental thirst…

"Don't look too much, babygirl. You might get hypnotized."

Yves tilts your chin up with a finger, moving to lean close to your face.

"My eyes are up here."

Holy fucking shit, she's so fucking hot.

You wonder how you didn't notice them when she had that fishnet and crop top combo. Maybe her pants covered them, maybe you were blinded in your dislike for her. Whatever, you've seen them now. No reason to stop… respectfully staring, especially when you can.

"Look at me."

You meet Yves's smoldering gaze.

"Keep your eyes up here, babygirl." Her warm breath against your lips makes you yearn to lean in and close the gap. "I don't want them anywhere else when they're so beautiful."

You whimper involuntarily, and Yves chuckles.

"You're so fucking pretty, you know that?"

The shame that burns when you squeak and break your gaze to hide in the pretense of reading the menu is something you don't want to admit that you feel coursing through your veins, but it's there. When you lower the menu, Yves has her chin in her palm, her head tilted to the left, a satisfied grin on her features.

"I mean it, baby. You look really pretty today."

"T-Thank you."

"You're welcome. Let's order, I'm starving."

"Okay."

"Oh." Yves leans towards you, lowering the menu to stare into your eyes once more. "You'll get to see what you want to see when I ace the exams. Be patient, babe."

You groan.

-----

That night, you toss and turn on the bed incessantly. Every time you close your eyes, you can feel hot breath across your lips, smell the scent emanating off Yves, and sense her burning gaze on you. Yves's handsome features are burnt deep into your head, and just the thought of her sends your heart pounding and temperature rising.

You think of her abs under her clothes, the defined muscle jumping out to your eyes. She already looks so good, so delicious, and yet, things only go up from here.

The rush of heat between your legs doesn't help things.

You turn again, ignoring your basest desires. Bedtime it is.

#kpop fanfic #kpop fanfiction #loona yves #ha sooyoung #loona fanfiction #loona fanfic #female reader insert #female reader

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yakultberry · 3 years

Text

✪ summary: your roommate is keeping you up and you try to take matters into your own hands. ✪ pairing: rocker!yuta x reader; very brief mention of frat boy!jaehyun ehehehe ✪ genre(s): angst, fluff, roommates to lovers ✪ word count: 1.6k words

✪ a/n: hello everyone, i've returned once more to post a fic i've written for my love's, @haechanblr, birthday 🥰 happy happy birthday, my spouse, i hope you had the best day today <3 i love you!! also this is the first time i'm posting for nct aaaaa i hope you all enjoy!!

[1:35 AM.] The screen of your phone illuminates the dark room, and you let out a frustrated groan when you see that it’s already been 40 minutes. And he’s still just tuning his guitar. You shuddered to think how long his subsequent practice might be. You throw the covers over your head in hopes of muffling the electric strums, but you still feel them vibrate through your walls. “You gotta be kidding me,” you mutter to yourself, now layering one of your fluffy pillows on your head without much more luck.

For the past year or so, you considered living with Nakomoto Yuta as one of the best decisions you have ever made. Sure, he could wash his dishes a little more often and sure, he could fix his sleeping schedule so that you don’t wake up at 4am to hear him writing another song for his band. But you didn’t really care about all that; not when he was the one that comforted you through your toughest days. You wouldn’t even have to say anything, and suddenly Yuta would be there with takeout from your favorite ramen place and that dazzling smile of his.

Who knew a rocker with bright red hair and leather jeans could have such a soft side?

You realized about six months ago that you had fallen in love with him; the butterflies that incessantly fluttered every time he brushed past you in the kitchen and your heart that burst every time you made him laugh made no doubt of that. This was a major problem, you had decided. Feelings like these never ended well. Not for you anyway. And you’d be damned if you let them get in the way of having Yuta in your life.

So you pretended like the feelings did not exist. And for the most part, it had worked; you and Yuta lived together as usual. Each day, you got to wake up excited for whatever adventure Yuta would bring into your little apartment without the fear of scaring him away with whatever mess was happening in your chest. Until a month ago when he brought home a stray cat, claiming her name was Brie (after the cheese). At that moment, you knew you had to take extra measures to tame that relentless heart of yours before it got more out of hand.

That’s why you’re here, trying to get some sleep so you could wake up at the ass crack of dawn to go hiking with Jaehyun from your English class. It would be your second date with him, and for a frat boy who isn’t quite your type, he did help you suppress your feelings. You had told Yuta about your early plans, and usually, that would have been enough for him to stay quiet for the night. And yet, you have a strong feeling that you could be in for a long night if you don’t intervene right now.

With a huff, you throw off your covers and pillow and stomp over to the room next door, unceremoniously letting yourself in. His room is messy as always with clothes and instruments strewn about; you don’t even bother trying to navigate it, and instead stay by the door. Yuta, who is sitting on his unmade bed, barely spares you a glance before he’s back to toying with his guitar, only fueling your frustration more.

“Yuta,” you say sternly. He answers with a non-committal hum, which at least gives you the impression that he knows you’re there. “I need to wake up early tomorrow, remember?”

“You do? For what?” he mumbles, most of his focus remaining on his guitar. You gape at him. You had definitely told him about your date over dinner and he had definitely said ‘okay’, or something along those lines. So why the fuck was he being so difficult?

“For my date with Jaehyun? I have to leave early so we can see the sunrise or whatever.”

“Oh.” He frowns at the strings he is still strumming, absolutely refusing to make any type of eye contact with you. “You’re still going to that?”

“I-- yes, I am,” you say, brows furrowed. He is being so weird. “So I would very much appreciate it very much if you could keep it down for tonight, because I’d rather not look like a zombie when I go on my date.”

Finally, Yuta looks up at you, his expression now indiscernible. “Why?”

“I mean, I don’t think it’s odd to want to look nice for a date--”

“No, I mean,” he lets out a sigh, “why are you going out with this guy?”

At this point, all you can do is stare at him incredulously, unable to help the frustration slowly coming to a boil under your skin. “Wha--What do you mean?”

“Do you even like him?” The question hits you like a punch to the gut, leaving you speechless as you scramble for some kind of answer. Suddenly, the air in the room is thick and it slowly seeps into your lungs when you open your mouth to reply, but no words seem to come out. “Well, do you?”

Your mouth feels dry. “W-why does it matter?”

“That isn’t an answer.” It wasn’t, but to you, it really didn’t matter whether you liked Jaehyun or whoever you went on a date with or not. That wasn’t the point. He helped you forget and that was a good enough start for you. But you couldn’t exactly tell Yuta that. Now, your roommate looks straight at you, his gaze piercing you as though it sees right through you. “It’s just… why would you date him if you don’t like him?”

“Who said I didn’t like him?” you retort all too quickly.

At that, Yuta lets out an amused scoff. The smirk he sends your way nearly makes your knees go weak. Why does he have to make this so difficult? “Oh come on. A frat dude? We both know that that’s not your type.”

The intensity of his gaze suddenly causes heat to rise up your neck to your cheeks-- whether it is from irritation or from the fluttering in your stomach, you aren’t quite sure. Either way, there isn’t any denying that Yuta is right, but you couldn’t let yourself fall apart so easily. You barely stammer out a reply. “I-- What if I just wanted to try something new?”

“Look,” Yuta says, setting his guitar aside so he can stand and face you. “It would be fine if you did like him. But you don’t, and that’s what’s been bothering me. Why would you go out with this guy that you clearly don’t like when…”

For the first time since you had met him, you think you see Yuta hesitate. As an aspiring rockstar, Yuta always seemed to ooze confidence no matter what he did, whether it was performing a new song on stage or trying to convince you that he can bake cookies without burning the entire complex down. So the way his voice tapers off and the way his eyes shake while he continues to look at you with that unreadable expression is a foreign sight to you. It makes you want to go to him, to be nearer to him, but you opt to stay in place as always.

To your surprise though, you’re the first to break the silence. You realize that you had been holding your breath. “...When what?”

“When I’m right here.”

You aren’t quite sure what you had expected him to say, but it definitely wasn’t that. The four words, so simple and concise, seem to take ages to process in your head. Are you dreaming? Did you actually fall asleep earlier and this is just some cruel trick your subconscious is playing on you? Does he know the meaning of his words? In your daze, you don’t realize that Yuta has made his way to you, and you nearly gasp when you feel how close he is-- it’s the closest you’ve ever been to him. Though he’s not touching you, you feel the warmth of his body, and for once, you let yourself stay.

“Yuta…” you start, but you’re at a loss for what to say.

“Or have I been imagining this whole year? I… I care so much about you, daisy,” Yuta says earnestly. The way he says his nickname for you is so tender, so sincere, and you realize that this is real. This is happening. “I know we haven’t said anything out loud, but I just thought that we were both feeling something. Was it just me?”

You quickly shake your head, and something in you is courageous enough to take his hand in yours. “I felt it too. I just… I just didn’t want to lose you.”

“Baby, you have me.” There it is again: that breathtaking smile that somehow eases all your worries while also being the very source of them. Slowly, you smile back, unable to process all the emotions rushing through you, and you only realize that you’re crying when Yuta reaches up his free hand to softly wipe your tears away with his thumb. He can’t help but chuckle fondly at the sight of you, and that’s when he says it. “I love you.”

At the moment, you know the only feeling that really matters is the one that you share with him. You sniffle. “I love you, too.” And with that, all of Yuta’s hesitation disappears. He pulls you to him and fits his lips over yours, as though they were meant to be there all this time. You instantly press closer, unable to get enough of the sweet kisses that you must have imagined a hundred times over. You definitely prefer the real thing.

A bit later, you text Jaehyun to let him know that you wouldn’t be able to make it in the morning. You do still end up staying up for the sunrise though, the bright rays gently seeping through the sheer curtains of Yuta’s windows as you lay happily in his arms.

#nct #nct 127 #nakamoto yuta #yuta scenarios #yuta angst #yuta fluff #nakamoto yuta scenarios #nct 127 scenarios #nct fanfic #nct scenarios #nct imagines #yuta x reader #i only come here to post the fics i've written for sab #LIFE HAS BEEN BUSY BUT I'M ON MY FEET

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greenygreenland · 3 years

Text

Dream A Little Dream Of Me: Norman x Reader

-MANGA SPOILERS! READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!

-NOTE: YOU’RE BOTH AGED UP SO DON’T START TELLING ME FBI’S GONNA COME TO MY DOOR 😂😂

-THE TIMELINE IS A BIT MESSED UP SO JUST IGNORE IT COMPLETELY AND DON'T ASK ME LOL

-also, is it just me or do thick eyebrows look really cute??? Norman has pretty thick brows compared everyone else and I think they're cute

WARNINGS: Kissing lol

Summary: You finally see Norman again.

Life had to be the scariest thing you'd ever faced. It threw the bad, the good, the everything your way until you could barely stand. Until you were left broken and mangled and shattered. Life was scary. It was cruel. Yet somehow, today was different.

You thought it was a dream. After all, how could it be reality when the boy in front of you died a year and some months ago? He had been shipped out, left for dead because it was a part of his stupid escape plan.

So how was it he stood before you? Breathing? Smiling? Living?

The office door closed behind you with a soft click. It bathed the room in silence, as if for a moment, the world decided to give you a second to breathe. A second to take in the wonderous sight before you.

The boy's name stuck in your throat. He had changed, not only in height, but stature and appearance. Norman was older, and he grew up to be more handsome than any runway model could ever be.

"(Y/n)," he gently said. "I'm glad you're well."

That was all it took. One sentence and you tackled him in the tightest hug your trembling arms could muster. "Norman...!" To have his arms around you, to hear the beating of his heart--it was a relief. A miracle sent by the gods. "You’re so stupid!"

No, he was more than stupid. He had to be the dumbest boy alive to think that it was okay to sacrifice himself for the sake of your family. You all were supposed to escape together just like Emma said. No one was supposed to be left behind, yet Norman--bless his heart--acted on his own.

You hugged him as if he would disappear if you let go. "We were all supposed to leave together. But you--I thought you--shipped out--and then--!" You chocked on your words. What more could you say anyway?

You buried your face in the crook of his neck. The muffled sob that ripped through your throat was more than Norman could handle. His knees went weak and you both slowly sunk to the floor in a heap.

"I'm here." he gently said. "I'm not going anywhere (Y/n)."

Despite the steadiness in Norman's voice, his shoulders hitched, and he sniffled. "I'm here." he repeated. "I-I'm here." It sounded like he were reassuring himself that he wouldn't leave you so soon, as if he were scared too. Not for the way you sobbed and sobbed, but for the ache in his heart that seemed to beat in sync with yours.

Slowly, your sobs turned to quiet sniffles, which then silenced into nothing but tiny hiccups. You basked in Norman's warm embrace. He didn't hold you too tightly, as if he were afraid it would shatter you to pieces. Instead, he pulled you close to his side and leaned on his desk behind.

You rested your head on his chest, taking the time to memorise his scent. Parchment, the woods, and old books. You liked that, it was comforting to know he still smelled the same. On the other hand, his voice wasn’t as smooth or rounded as it once was. It was icy. No one seemed to notice that tiny sharpness that hit the end of each note he spoke. You wondered what could've made his kind heart harden.

Sure, Norman was still the same Norman you remembered, but something about the way he acted seemed off. He was clingy, much more than he ever was. Maybe he just missed you? No, that couldn't be right. Norman acted as if he were running out of time. He held you close and gently, as if these would be the last moments you'd see each other again. As if there wouldn't be a tomorrow.

You slowly pulled away to get a good look at Norman's face. His chin was slightly pointier, his cheeks less chubby and full. His lips twitched upwards into a comforting smile. It didn't quite reach his eyes because he looked so overwhelmingly tired. Your poor boy probably worked day and night to keep the hideout on its feet. It must be hard on him, you thought. Especially since he was revered as a god.

Norman's brows raised. "What's wrong?"

You took his thin hands in your own and gave them a good squeeze. "It's nothing. What about you?"

Ah yes, small talk. The perfect way to avoid any question thrown your way. Norman knew you well, sometimes even more than himself. When you asked simple questions such as these, that meant your mind laid elsewhere in a land he could never reach. Norman took that as a hint to drop the subject.

For now.

He wondered what invisible weight laid on your shoulders. Was it something as heavy as his? Perhaps your weight was worse and it ate away at you. Norman wished he could take that weight away and relieve you of that pain. He'd carry it all if he could, and it didn't matter to him if he'd die trying. This was you he was thinking about. He'd do anything for you.

"I've been okay," Norman vaguely responded. "But I have been busy, so I find it difficult to sleep sometimes.”

Norman liked to be honest, but you knew it was because that helped him figure out what was wrong with you. It was a game of tag. In this case being 'it' meant figuring out each others' worries through a back-and-forth match.

"You haven't been sleeping enough?" Your voice came out rather quiet as you traced invisible circles over the back of his hands. "Is that because you have so much work? Or do you refuse to get help?" Norman sat in a still silence and you sighed.

Of course.

This was your Norman after all. He always shouldered a burden too big for his shoulders to carry. It was always something so heavy, so terribly hard to balance by himself. If that burden grew any bigger, it would collapse, and that would be his downfall. But you wouldn't let that happen to your Norman. No, no, no. You'd take that burden from him, steal it if you had to, and be his crutch.

"What have you been doing here?" you quickly added. "As 'William Minerva', I mean?"

Norman looked unbearably uncomfortable. That little frown tugging at the edge of his lips was a tell-tale sign. “I’ve been getting a lot done." he carefully said. "In fact, I’ve figured out a way to end this. Once and for all.”

Norman began by explaining the first phase of his plan. The first phase had long been in motion. It started with the indiscriminate burning of cattle facilities, then the gathering of information, and continued on to pave the way for all the other phases you didn’t care to hear about.

The first few steps weren't too bad, but the final act in Norman's plan made your skin crawl. You half-wished you hadn’t asked him anything to begin with. Maybe it would have spared your appetite. Your grip on his thin hands loosened and loosened until your hands rested on your lap.

Norman wasn't so little anymore. He had grown up just a bit, but not in the way you wished to see. How could he think of something so cold-hearted and cruel? The extermination of all demons in Neverland was an act of genocide. If you re-called correctly, it was also considered a war crime.

Norman was smarter than that. He understood the consequence he'd have to face if that were the path he walked right? He understood that there were still other options right? Maybe you heard him wrong.

No.

You had to have heard him wrong. Norman wasn't ruthless like that. He was a ball of sunshine that made you smile whenever you were together.

"I see..." You tightly smiled. "So that's your plan on freeing everyone?" Norman nodded with a seriousness that took you back to the time he left everything to you and Ray and Emma.

You weren't mistaken then. Norman truly meant everything he said.

"Yes, that is my plan. It's been taking me a little longer than expected to set it in motion. I've decided to officially start tomorrow."

Tomorrow?

Your breath hitched. "Don't you think that's a bit hasty? What if...what if something goes wrong?" Norman smiled. It was hollow and wry and everything that he wasn't. "Don't worry. Fortunately, I've always been pretty good at getting what I want." You didn't return the smile, and you didn't want to say why.

Norman was quick to catch on. But of course he would catch on so quickly, this was Norman. Your Norman.

"Do you have a problem with my plan?" he inquired. You shook your head. "No, it's...it's not that." Yes, it was that. Your plan is dangerous even if it is good, you thought. Innocent lives wouldn't be spared, and that would spell an unfair fate for the demons who ate to survive.

You wanted to tell Norman why his plan was wrong, and why he didn't have to be so unforgiving about it. But then what? Why would he listen when you didn't have any better ideas? He seemed to have his mind set anyway, so no half-baked ideas would make a difference. And besides, he was the smartest person you knew. Maybe that was the only way out of the terrible fate all you cattle children faced.

"If you're okay with my plan," Norman said, "then what's bothering you (Y/n)?"

"It's still a lot for me to take in," you admitted with a plastic smile. "I guess I'm just shocked that you're, well, here." Norman smiled, this time with a genuine warmth. "I understand." He leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on your lips. "I'll see you at dinner."

Your cheeks burned. How bold of him. "Y-yeah, I'll see you at dinner." Norman let out a cute little chuckle that made your heart beat a little louder than it was supposed to. You hauled yourself off the floor and made your way to the door. Norman followed.

You flashed him a nervous smile, one that mixed in with your muddled worry and anxiousness. You glanced at his bright eyes. For a moment, they seemed to dim like the setting sun. It reminded you of Mama. When no one looked at her, she didn’t smile. She always looked so sad when she sat by herself, and maybe that was because she was.

"(Y/n)?"

Your fingers brushed against the doorknob. “Hm?”

"I want nothing more than to protect you and our family. I know you don't fully agree with me," his expression darkened. "But this is the way--the only way we can save everyone without spilling a single drop of blood."

For a moment, you forgot who you were speaking to. This wasn't the same boy you begged to run away with before he got shipped out. This wasn't the same boy who gently tucked a piece of hair behind your ear and sweetly complimented you. This boy--did you truly still know him? Was he still the Norman you grew up with and fell head-over-heels for?

You blinked and that dark look washed itself off his face. He strode up to you and placed a hand on your cheek--just like the day he was supposed to be harvested. Norman’s eyes were soft, softer than any blanket, and his lips pursed into a gentle frown. With his thumb, he wiped a stray tear away.

Why were you crying?

"Norman..." You couldn’t find the right words. There were none that could explain the suffering you endured in silence. You worried, not only for Norman, but your family and all those other people in the world you didn’t know about. Norman’s plan--oh how stupid it was--had it changed him? Had it forced him to guard his heart to keep a still mind?

You wondered what he endured while you went on your crazy adventures. At least you had your family, and Yuugo, Lucas, and all your friends. But Norman? He didn’t have anyone but himself. He carried the whole world. Alone. Had he been scared? Worried? Angry that no one came for him? Your heart clenched at the thought.

"Smile,” Norman said. “It’s okay, I promise. I'm here." He gathered you in his arms and you didn’t have the heart to protest. “How?” you whispered. “How were you able to do all this on your own?” Norman helplessly shrugged. “You could say I have connections, either that or I’m just lucky.”

“What will you do after this is all over?”

Norman went still again, as if he couldn’t answer your question. You heaved in a shaky breath. If Norman wasn’t going to give you a straight answer, then you’d squeeze it out of him. “Did anything else happen to you? I’m sure there’s a catch, isn’t there?”

It was like someone flipped a switch. One moment, you were a mess of tears, sorrow, and anguish. Now, something menacing laid in your voice. It was almost threatening, as if you were indirectly telling Norman to dare avoid the question. “I don’t want you dying trying to be everything at once,” you said. “Here you’re revered as a god, and if I know you, then it’s plain that you set yourself up like that. Don’t tell me you plan to die on us again.”

He stiffened.

“I know you Norman, don’t forget that. And because I love you, I don’t want to see you destroy yourself. I admit, I don’t know why you act like you’re going to leave again, but I’ll do everything in my power to stop you.” You pulled away and took his hands in yours. A small smile of reassurance made its way up your lips, but Norman didn’t return it.

No, he couldn’t. And despite all he did, he couldn’t lie straight to your face. Not like this.

Dinner cheered you up. The smiles and laughter that your family shared with Norman made you feel just a little bit better. But how long would it last? And how long would those smiles stay present? All the questions swarming in your mind made you feel sick to your stomach. There was too much to think about, and too little time to answer them.

You forced down the last of your food with a sigh and brought the plate to its respectful place. Everyone was too busy chatting and catching up to notice, but that was fine. It was better that way.

You made your way to a secluded walkway. It was in one of the calmer areas of the hideout that overlooked the lower levels. It was quiet, save for the distant chatter of Hayato and his friends. He let out a bright laugh that echoed through the vacant walkways. What a shame it would be to hear that disappear.

“So this is where you went.”

“I told you she’d be here.”

You whipped around in alarm. “Ray, Emma!”

Ray sharply looked you up and down. He raised a brow and you squirmed under his gaze. He gently bumped shoulders with you. “What’s wrong with you?”

You absentmindedly shrugged. “Nothing.”

“That’s what someone who’s not okay would say.” Emma noted. She settled by your side on the railing and flashed a bright smile. “You were so quiet at dinner today.”

You shook your head. Que another absentminded shrug and plastic smile. “I guess I just wanted to make sure everyone was okay.”

Ray sighed. “Everyone but you?” He leaned against the railing next to you. “Did you and Norman talk at all?”

You froze. ‘Yes’, was what you wanted to say, but no sound came out. The image of Norman’s matured face, the way his his soft lips hit your own, and his stupidly tall build crossed your mind.

Emma let out a gasp and slapped a hand over her mouth. “Ah!” she cried. “You’re all red!” You covered your hands with your face, ignoring Ray’s curious stare.

“What did you two talk about in his office anyway? Or should I say, do?” The glint in Ray’s eyes had subtext you didn’t want to recite out loud. “Rayyyyy,” you grumbled, “shut up.” He sent you a teasing grin as Emma frowned in confusion. “I don’t get it.”

“You’ll understand when you’re older.”

“Yeah, it’s grown up stuff.”

You ignored the warmth spreading to your cheeks and elbowed Ray. “Don’t say it like ‘that’! Now you make it sound like something else!”

He daringly raised a brow. “Like what?” You ran a hand over your scorching face. It was a miracle you weren’t on fire. “No, no, I’m not answering you!”

You shared a good laugh and a comfortable silence began to settle, blanketing your shoulders in a lightness that you hadn’t felt in a while.

Emma softly smiled. “I’m glad we found you.” she admitted. “You looked really sad all by yourself out here.” Ray nodded with a small snort. “Yeah, talk about depressing. But seriously though, did something..?”

Of course these two would see through your façade. Of course they’d understand something was wrong. They were your family, and they didn’t deserve your silence. Your smile shattered. “I don’t know if Norman told you about his plan yet, but it’s...it’s bad. Sure, the demons have done some terrible things to us, but that doesn’t mean all of them are guilty. I want to stop him, but I don’t know how.”

Emma nodded in agreement. “He told us earlier and I don’t like it either.” she firmly said. “Ray and I talked it over and we have a plan, but it’s risky. Like, really risky. It has to do with the Seven Walls and...”

You held on to every word Emma and Ray spoke. Risky was your middle name. Well, not actually, but it was something that became your friend. You and your family looked death in the face too many times to count. What would be another?

By the end of it, you were sure this new plan would change Norman’s mind, or at least convince him to give up the whole ‘genocide’ thing. It was decided by Ray that tomorrow, you’d all talk to Norman. Things seemed to be looking up. No, they had to be.

------------

The halls were empty and you were alone. How was it you got lost in the first place? You made sure to have every twist and turn memorised, so why did you end up in the wrong corridor twice? Ray would surely tease you for getting lost. What an absolute--

You slammed into someone’s chest. A yelp escaped your throat as the person in question lost his footing. He sucked in a sharp breath and went tumbling straight into you. Your back hit the ground as the boy threw out his arms on either side of your head to brace himself. You didn’t need a name to know who you had tumbled into. Light hair, soft eyes, fancy waistcoat and suit.

“Norman?”

He hovered over you with wide eyes. His lips were inches from yours and he was just so, so close.

Thump, thump, thump.

Your heartbeat was so gosh dang loud. Could he hear it? Could he see the way your face burned red?

“Uhm--I--I--uh--”

Why wasn’t he moving? Why weren’t you moving? Why was it so hard to look him in the eyes? A nervous smile broke out across Norman’s lips. He pushed himself off of you and offered out a hand. You gingerly took it.

“Sorry.” Norman said, helping you to your feet. “I wasn’t looking where I was going. Are you okay?” Your gaze darted from his lips to his dazzling eyes and then to his cheeks dusted in red. Your heart wouldn’t stop slamming against your chest. It kept going, and going until you felt like you were about to burst.

“Sh-shouldn’t I be asking you that?” you retorted. “I’m not the one who--you know...gets sick all the time.” You weren’t sure why you said it like that, or why that made Norman smile so cutely, but he was smiling. That made your heart flutter. You glanced around the corridor a few times, and somehow, you kept finding focus on his lips.

What was wrong with you?

Norman caught on fast--like he always did. “Oh I see,” he said with a low chuckle. You swallowed. His voice really did deepen (but you kind of liked it). For a moment, you thought he caught onto your staring, but instead of commenting on it, he intertwined his hand with yours and led you through the winding halls.

“Don’t tell Ray I got lost.” you muttered. Norman laughed and it was like the sound of happiness itself. “I won’t.”

The halls all looked the exact same: cream coloured paint, nature-like decorations, and numbered wooden doors. You forgot what number your room was, so that was probably why you got lost. Norman took a sharp left where you recalled should be a right instead. “Wait isn’t it that way?”

“I have something to give you, so we’re going to make a quick detour.” Norman’s cheeks dusted pink and he looked the slightest bit nervous. “What is it you want to show me?” He flashed you a contagious smile. “It’s a surprise.”

“What kind of surprise?”

“I can’t tell you,” he said with a chuckle, “that’s why it’s called a surprise.”

When you got to his office, you were nervous. Surprises were fun, yes, but in a world where nearly getting eaten by wild demons fell into the category of ‘surprise’, you learned not to like them very much.

Norman closed the door behind you and it softly clicked shut. Okay, you thought. So he was locking the door and making his way over to his desk. Okay, that’s fine. Norman shuffled through a cabinet, that nervous look still on his face. Okay, okay, nothing wrong here. He gently shut the drawer, and as he walked out from behind his desk, you took note of the small little box he fiddled with.

Okay. Okay. Box. Nervous. Locked door. Did he not want anyone to interrupt whatever he was about to do?

Norman heaved in a deep breath. A really, really, really deep breath. “(Y/n), I have never met anyone else like you. You’re the strongest person I’ve ever met, and you’re beautiful and kind.” He sunk to one knee and opened the little box. “Will you marry me?”

“Yes!”

---------

You jolted awake with a start.

“Sorry,” Norman said. He scribbled a few words down in his notebook. “Did I wake you?”

Ah, that’s right. After you talked with Emma and Ray, you all met up with Norman and hung out for a bit. But when had you gotten to his office? Much less, fallen asleep? You rubbed your eyes with a shake of your head. Judging by the tired look on Norman’s face, it was way past bedtime.

The heavy cloak around your shoulders offered a welcoming warmth. It smelled like books. It smelled like parchment and ink. It smelled like Norman and it was comforting.

He glanced up from his notebook and curiously met your gaze. “What are you smiling at?” The dream popped up in your mind and your smile grew. “I had a good dream.”

“What was it about?” he inquired without looking up.

“You.”

The scratch of the pencil froze and he met your gaze. “You had a dream about me?” Your cheeks flushed. “Yeah, and you proposed.” Norman’s back went rigid and he turned as red as an apple. “I-I pro--proposed to you?” he stammered. You snickered, a smug smile tugging on your lips. “It was really sweet. And if you’re wondering, I said yes. I was going to kiss you, but then I woke up.” You stood up with a sigh. “It was disappointing, but that’s okay.”

You let out a small laugh and neatly folded Norman’s cloak. You left it on the couch and made your way across the room. “That’s a nice notebook.” you said. “What’re you writing about?”

Norman stilled and closed the book with a smile. “It’s nothing special.” He put the pencil down ever so quietly and stood. “Do you seek my affections?” he inquired. You settled on the wall. “Don’t you have work to do?” Norman looked down at you. His fringe brushed across his eyelashes, and he loosened his tie. Slowly.

Your heart steadily drummed against your chest. “What are you doing?” The false innocence in your voice caused Norman to chuckle lowly. He caressed your cheek with a feather-light touch. “Well, you did say you were disappointed right? Why don’t I make it up to you?”

He rested an arm on the wall with a sly smirk. Your lips connected and it made your stomach flip-flop. The kiss was slow, it was sweet. You found yourself pulling him closer, running your hands through his hair and yanking him over. "Norman?" He met your gaze with half-lidded eyes. "Yes (N/n)?"

"Where did you learn how to do that?"

He smirked and it was hot. The fact that he kept his arm braced against the wall didn’t help either. "Why?" he lowly inquired. "Do you like it?" Your breath caught in your throat and you found yourself wanting more.

Knock, knock!

Norman didn't look too happy about that. He ran a hand over your cheek and gently tucked a lock of hair behind your ear, that half-lidded look of his melting into warmth and love. He made his way to the door, tightening his tie and smoothing out his hair with a quick touch.

"Hello--?" Norman fell short mid-sentence. As soon as your gaze locked with the person on the other side, you understood why. Ray stood in the threshold, just as red-faced as you and Norman, with a sheepish look on his face. “I’ll come back later.” he muttered.

Oh great. Had he been eavesdropping? You glanced at Norman and he glanced at you, then Ray, and back to you. Ray sucked his teeth and stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Don’t have too much fun.” he said, a smirk twitching onto his lips.

You made your way to the threshold with a groan. “Rayyyy!”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t worry.” he coolly replied. “Do whatever, I didn’t see anything.”

PART 2 <--- READ PART 2

NOTE: I spent a WHOLE WEEK writing this. Please reblog so I know you guys like it :)

TIP JAR

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makoodlesarchive · 3 years

Text

when i was young i fell into a river

pairing: kirishima x reader

word count: 5k

warnings: none, really! a bit of angst, a bit of fluff i guess?

notes: hello, it's me, back again with some writing! it's been a long time and i'm very sorry about that, but i've finally gotten around to writing and posting my spirited away au! i'm v stressed with college so this turned out more vent-y than i had originally intended, but hopefully it's enjoyable anyway! thank you all for being so patient with me, i am endlessly grateful for you

The dream is the same as always, comforting in its familiarity.

A salt-scented breeze cools your sweat-soaked brow as you pause behind one of the sliding screen doors, the rice paper windows doing nothing to block out the chatter of the other workers. The bubbling noise of the bathhouse is constant, and the quiet little moments you steal away for yourself in the middle of the working day is the only solitude you’ve gotten since you came here. The work is physically back-breaking, but you know that you’re working towards a goal. It’s just a shame that you can’t remember exactly what that goal is.

One of the other girls calls your name, and you sigh as your unofficial break comes to an end. You slip back into the room, ignoring the way the frog spirits snicker and hold their noses as you pass. They like to complain a lot about your human stench, but it doesn’t stop them from threatening to eat you every time you make a mistake. Fear, you’ve found, is an uncomfortably successful motivator.

The days bleed into one another, full of scrubbing dark wooden floors and the rich earthy scents of the herbal mixes they use in the baths. The spirits that frequent the bathhouse, that once inspired so much awe and fear in your heart, become so commonplace that you hardly spare them a glance anymore. From the cackling masked spirits that always travel in threes to the grinning cat spirits to the sombre, unspeaking river spirits, you only go as far as to offer them a polite bow before scurrying out of their way. They never spare you any attention, anyway -- most of the time, the spirits’ eyes seem to look right through you.

All but one, that is.

He looks to be a boy around your age, but appearances can be deceiving around here. His red eyes are often dull and blank, but even so they have a certain ageless quality about them that no human twelve-year-old could ever possess. His scarlet hair sticks up in gravity-defying spikes, and his skin is as smooth and clear as running water. His face is often stuck in a carefully cultivated blank expression; the only thing about him that doesn’t seem intimidatingly otherworldly are the deep purple shadows under his eyes.

He helped you once, when you first came here. The rare act of kindness had stuck in your head, made even more remarkable in the face of the following weeks and months of harsh work and cruel co-workers. You wonder if he remembers; he doesn’t often look at you, but sometimes when he does you swear you can see a flicker of something in his eyes.

Two of the girls start yelling at each other, arguing heatedly over the way the work is being divided. A foreman appears to break up the fight, but then they both start shouting at him instead. You take the moment of distraction to relax, wincing at the pull of your tired muscles in the back of your neck. All the other girls working at the bath house are older and bigger than you, which means you need to work twice as hard to keep up with them and prove that you’re worth keeping around.

In the brief moment of rest, your eyes are drawn slowly to the corridor, where guests and workers alike bustle past as they travel to the treatment rooms and bathtubs deeper into the bathhouse. As if you’ve conjured him just by thinking about him, the boy stands in the doorway.

You straighten up on instinct, suddenly self-conscious of your sweat-soaked body and dishevelled uniform. He’s not even looking your way, preoccupied with the two girls who are still yelling at the frog foreman. Slowly though, his eyes began to travel the room, and you take a deep breath and hold it as his dull ruby gaze lands on you like a physical weight. You crack a nervous smile, feeling the muscles in your cheeks that have gone unused for weeks ache at the strain, and raise a hand to give him a tiny wave.

For just a moment, that blankness in his face seems to quiver and fall away. He smiles back.

You jolt awake, breathing heavily and coated in a light sheen of sweat. You’ve had the same dream, or some variation of it, regularly ever since you were twelve years old and while it’s become familiar to you, you still find yourself feeling vaguely panicked when you wake up after it, as though you’ve forgotten something very important.

Once your heartbeat has calmed down a little, you pull yourself out of bed and trudge into the kitchen to make yourself some tea. The weak, milky light of dawn filters in through the windows, lighting your apartment up just enough so that you don’t have to turn on a light to make your way around. You take your tea out to the balcony and sit, gazing out at the purplish early morning sky.

Most of the time when you wake up from those dreams you feel blessedly lucky to be living alone with no one to question or bother you, but sometimes you can’t help but be overcome by overwhelming loneliness. The dreams are silly and most of the time they don’t even make any sense, but in the aftermath of them you’re always left with a vague sense of unfulfillment, though you can’t put your finger exactly on what it is you’re missing. You always end up exactly like this; sitting outside on your balcony in the early morning light, drinking tea alone and desperately wishing for something more.

You sigh, and go back inside.

The dream is the same, but different.

The garden is in full bloom, greenery overlaid with bursts of beautiful bright colours. Camellias, rhododendrons, and oleanders wave and shiver gently in the warm breeze, and apple blossoms hang heavily from a nearby tree. The flowering garden is enormous and maze-like, and you have yet to see it in any state other than fully flourishing.

It’s a beautiful place, especially after the hot, cramped working quarters of the bathhouse. You inhale the sweetly fragranced air and feel the knot of tension in your spine unfurl; it feels like the first time that you’ve been able to breathe all week, but that’s not the only reason that you’ve found yourself outside.

At the bottom of the garden, the grass drops off into a sheer drop. The cliff face overlooks a seemingly endless ocean, and you perch a safe distance from the drop before leaning back in the grass. The sky is an almost surreally deep blue and you watch as enormous fluffy clouds float by, looking as though they’ve been painted on a jewel-blue canvas.

It’s not the first time you’ve had this dream, and you know what you’ll see if you keep patiently watching.

It doesn’t take long — it never does. You time your lunch breaks precisely, all so you get to see this sight.

The clear blue sky makes it so much easier to spot the shiny white scales, flashing jewel-bright in the sunlight. The dragon writhes in the sky, streaking through the air like a great serpent caught in the wind. Even from this distance, you can see the knife-like teeth, the great sharp claws that gleam like pyrite, and the twisting horns that erupt from his head like daggers made from calcified bone. He looks deadly, a living weapon that swims through the air like a salmon in open water, but the sight of him makes something settle in your stomach.

You wonder what it would feel like to fall through the air with nothing but the wind to break your fall. You imagine it must feel like freedom.

The dragon flutters through the air, buoyed by the gentle sea breeze. If you didn’t know better, you might almost think that he was showing off — his movements are hypnotic, dreamlike, more like a dance than anything. His scales glow pearlescent in the midday sun, otherworldly and earthly all at once.

You could happily stay and watch him skim through the sky forever, but already the bell is being rung to call all workers back into the bathhouse. You heave a sigh so deep it feels as though your chest is about to crack with the force of it, before hauling yourself to your feet.

Your break is over, and now it’s back to work.

Sometimes you find it difficult to tell when you’re dreaming and when you’re awake. It feels as though everything is always happening all at once, in the present tense, forever. You don’t get to rest when you close your eyes and drift off to sleep, because the dreams just keep coming and coming. Sometimes you don’t feel like your life is real when you’re awake.

Riding on the train has always been therapeutic, especially at this time of the early morning. The sun rising lazily over the horizon sends milky threads of purple and pink across the cloudy sky, and you cradle your chin in your hand as you gaze out across the moving landscape. You love these little trips, feeling more at home in the creaky, overfull train carriage than you do in your own bedroom sometimes, though you can’t quite work out where that particular feeling comes from.

You know sometimes that stories end with “And then I woke up — it was only a dream”, but in your experience the story simply doesn’t end. You cannot fully wake up without the tail-ends of your dreams clinging to you for the rest of the day, and you never fully sleep. You just dream, dream, dream.

Sighing, you lean your head back against the seat that you’re slumped in. The train carriage is too full, and you were lucky to get a seat in the first place — from your vantage point, you watch as people sway in tandem with the motion of the train. It’s almost hypnotic, how they undulate back and forth with every turn, brushing against each other only to be pulled apart again by the lurching train.

Through the sea of bodies, you catch a man’s eye. It breaks the monotony of the morning commute and your own spiralling thoughts, and your spine straightens unconsciously. He quirks an eyebrow briefly, slightly, in such a way that no one would be able to safely accuse him of having done it.

You look away, startled for no good reason. Do you know him? He feels familiar in a way that you can’t quite put your finger on. The train rattles on, and it takes several long minutes before you work up the nerve to glance the man’s way again. He’s still watching you, but you’re ready for it this time. His attention isn’t such a shock, and you allow your eyes to wander over his face properly.

You must know him, you think. Your eyes track over his features as though they’re winding over a well-worn path, admiring the curve of his nose and the fullness of his lips and the arch of his eyebrows over his intense, watchful eyes.

He smiles at you, and it feels as though you’re sharing a secret from across the crowded train carriage. You smile back — it’s just a small tug of the corners of your mouth, but it’s the most you’ve smiled in months. Longer, maybe.

In the middle of the carriage a woman laughs at something her friend has said and sways backward, blocking your view of the stranger. It feels like a loss.

The train trundles onwards, and the carriage gradually empties out. You watch people step off the train with friends, with their heads ducked low, lost in thought, arguing over the phone, distracted with their book bags. By the time it comes to your stop, the man is gone.

You try not to feel disappointed as you step off the train — it’s silly, after all. You don’t know the man, and whatever you thought you felt as you looked at each other was surely all in your own head. Your head has been awfully full, recently.

As you step off the train you grapple with your bag, side-stepping a businessman who is busy shouting down the phone at some unfortunate coworker. You’re distracted, which is the only reasonable explanation for how long it takes you to realise that the man from the train is standing in front of you.

“Oh.” You blurt, startled. You had already begun to resign yourself to never seeing him again, so you can’t help but feel distinctly caught off guard at the sight of him standing before you. “Hi.”

“Hello.” The man says. He’s looking at you expectantly, but you have no idea what he’s waiting for — as it is, you get completely distracted by his eyes. You hadn’t noticed on the train, but now that he’s up close you see that they’re a truly unusual deep burgundy. He tilts his head when you remain silent, and bites his lip. Now that you’re really looking, you notice how sharp his teeth are. “You’ve barely changed at all.”

You blink at him. “Er…” You trail off nervously. You don’t recognise him, but you feel like you know him. Clearly, he thinks that he knows you.

“It’s fitting, isn’t it? Meeting again on a train?” He smiles, and it’s an impossibly knowing expression. You don’t think you’ve ever been on the receiving end of a look that intimate in your life, though you have no idea what he’s talking about.

Someone collides hard with your shoulder and you stagger for balance. You only look away from the man for a mere second, but it’s enough; when you look again, he’s gone.

You take to walking. There’s a wooded area behind the town, and you enjoy traipsing idly through the trees. Ancient roots erupt out of the dirt and fan over the ground like hairs, and the moss that covers the trunks of the trees is such a deep green that it almost seems like paint pigment. It’s soothing, being surrounded by nature like this. It reminds you of childhood — the simplicity of being able to jump over tree roots under a canopy of pale green leaves, of being able to leave all your thoughts and stress at the boundary of the forest.

It’s where you come after waking sweat-soaked and disoriented from a dream that clings to you like a burr, where you walk among the ferns and the needle-leaved weeds until you manage to shake the last vestiges of memory from your mind. You need it, especially in the mornings where you wake up with the acrid scent of herbal cleanser stinging in your nose or the bite of hard calluses on your palms from non-existent rough cloths. On mornings like that, you walk and walk until you no longer feel as though you’re more alive in your dreams than you are in reality.

Deep in the forest is a great red facade, painted a flaking, faded red. You wander by it frequently, admiring the overgrown greenery that crawls up the walls like reaching fingers, the mossy stone guardian that stands sentinel amongst the cracked flagstones that lead into the tunnelled entrance. You’ve asked around in the town, curious about what exactly this building was for, but most of the locals either don’t know what building you’re talking about or admit that they’re not sure. One man told you that the facade was built for a theme park in the 90s that had ended up going bust in the recession, and that the building only looked old.

You remain unconvinced on that front. The building has the kind of presence that only very old things have; it feels like it’s watching you.

For the most part, your walks in the forest are peaceful. Recently though, you’ve found yourself plagued by an insistent, irritating sense of deja vu. You don’t know where it’s coming from, and it hits you at the strangest of times — when you’re making tea, or in the bath, or cleaning your apartment, or on the train, or admiring the sky on a cloudless day.

The man from the train is the boy in your dreams. It takes you weeks to come to that realisation. You just wake up in the middle of the night on a random Tuesday, with wide eyes and clammy skin and his name slipping from the forefront of your mind.

It shouldn’t be possible, but once it dawns on you, you’re certain of it.

Even stranger is that once you realise it, it feels as though you see him everywhere. You see flashes of red hair when you’re walking down the street, when you’re grocery shopping, when you’re walking home late at night. It’s only ever the barest glance out of the corner of your eye, just overt enough for you to know it’s him, but subtle enough for you to question yourself immediately after.

One night, you travel to a local city to meet some old school friends. At night, the city seems to pulse. The music from seedy clubs spills out into the neon-lit streets, muffled shouted arguments echoes from alleyways and apartments alike, and the streets are peppered with people either scurrying or stumbling home, with very little variation. Though the perpetually overcast sky hides any trace of the moon or stars, the streetlamps reflect in the ever-present stagnant puddles littering the street, lighting them up in varying shades of sickly yellow.

At night, the city seems alive. Chronically ill and struggling to breathe, maybe, but clinging to life all the same.

The way the neon lights flicker in the gloomy darkness, just barely illuminating the shadows of people hurrying through the streets to get in out of the rain, reminds you of something you can’t quite remember. It sits in the back of your mind like a sour taste, but no matter how much you reach for the memory it remains just out of reach.

You spend most of the night staring out of the steamed up window of the pub, entranced by the sight of the night streets and frustrated by the memories that seem to dangle just out of reach. You know that it doesn’t make for good company, and you feel guilty for that. Your friends don’t seem overly surprised at your detachment. You’ve been drifting away for years, and though tonight was supposed to be all about reconnecting it seems clear that it’s not going to work.

When you eventually stand up to leave, with forced smiles and awkward goodbyes, you can’t help but feel melancholy settle over you like a second skin. As you slip out of the pub and onto the dark streets, the thought crosses your mind that you’re not used to being alone like this. It’s a silly thought, really; you’ve been alone for years. But sometimes, in those liminal moments between waking and sleeping, you swear you can hear the gentle drowsy breaths of dozens of people sleeping all around you, as though you’re surrounded on all sides. On those nights you wake up hot and claustrophobic and uncomfortable, but never feeling lonely.

It is probably your own fault, you reflect as you drift down the sidewalk like a ghost. It’s difficult to make an effort to know people when you feel as though you don’t know yourself. You don’t know how to bridge the distance between yourself and other people. You think sometimes that you’re missing chunks of yourself.

You pass an open shopfront that’s serving street food, and glance briefly in at the kitchen. The cook is illuminated only dimly in the smoky room, standing out as a shadow figure more than anything, and for a split second you could swear that he has six arms. You look away quickly and carry on walking — you don’t want to look again only to be proven wrong. You want to preserve that little second of magic strangeness for as long as you can.

The puddles on the street seem like they’re glowing with the light reflected from the neon streetlamps, and you weave your way carefully around them to avoid getting your feet wet. The night has a strange quality about it, almost as though it’s holding its breath.

Considering the combination of your pensive mood and the expectant air of the evening, you don’t feel surprised at all when you look up from the wet cobblestones to find the man standing only a few feet ahead of you.

He smiles like he’s nervous, his gaze tracking carefully over your face. In his hands, he’s holding flowers. Camellias, you think. It’s the first time since you first saw him on the train that hasn’t been a fleeting glance out of the corner of your eye— he’s here in front of you and he’s real and solid and sturdy. He seems more substantial than the streets around you, than your friends back at the pub had been.

“Do you remember me?” He asks, voice soft as though he’s afraid of the answer.

“Remember you?” You croak. It feels as though the words are catching inside your throat. “No. But I’ve seen you every night in my dreams for years.”

If that’s the answer he’s expecting, he doesn’t show it. He just keeps looking at you, your face, your body. You wonder exactly it is that he’s seeing. “These are for you.” He says eventually, holding out the flowers. “I didn’t- I wanted to bring you something, when I saw you again. And I know that you always liked the garden.”

He’s talking as if the places that you’ve dreamed about are real. It doesn’t come as the earth-shattering surprise you might have expected — rather, it feels like a key turning in an old lock. A click, and then a sense of yes, that’s right.

You take the flowers, and clutch them to your chest. They’re a fleshy pink, with a vibrant yellow centre. The petals are as soft as velvet. Holding them feels like holding a safety blanket. “Thank you.” It’s the only thing that you can manage to say right now. Your thoughts are too full, and nothing else makes it out of your mouth.

It’s rather startling, the feelings that bubble up in your chest. It feels like something has just been unlocked, as though you had stored away all this emotion somewhere deep in your ribcage and then forgotten about it only for it to resurface at this precise moment, for this precise person.

“Eijirou.” You croak. “Kirishima Eijirou.”

His whole face brightens, and his eyes sparkle. “Yes. That’s me. You do remember!”

They’re not quite memories, you don’t think. They come in dreamlike flashes — the garden, an ocean, train tracks, the feral snarling of a dragon with sharp teeth, hard work and hot food, friends.

“I’m sorry I took so long,” Kirishima is saying, his face open and earnest. “But I told you that I’d come and find you again, remember?”

You do remember, sort of. A flash of a warm hand holding yours, pushing you forward over a boundary between one world and another, and a goodbye whispered behind you that sounds like a promise.

“You saved me.”

Kirishima laughs, though his eyes look a little shiny. “It was the other way around, actually. I would have stayed trapped in that bathhouse forever, if it weren’t for you.”

“The bathhouse.” You murmur, wide-eyed. It was real, real, real.

“Things are different now.” He edges closer to you. He’s large and imposing and taller than you, but he’s hunched slightly in an attempt to make himself unthreatening. “That’s why it took so long for me to come for you. Things were changing. Me and Katsuki run the bathhouse now.”

Katsuki. In your mind's eye you see a boy with wild blond hair and a dangerous look in his eyes, a boy who gives you extra rice when he can manage and takes over parts of your chores when you get so tired that you’re fit to pass out.

“I didn’t mean to make you wait.” He says quietly, and the tide of emotion that you had just barely been holding at bay comes crashing over you. Before the first tear has welled over the edge of your eyelids, Kirishima has stepped forward and wrapped you in his arms. The flowers are crushed between your chests as you cry.

“I didn’t even know what I was waiting for.” You cry into his silk suikan.

“I’m sorry.” He whispers into your hair. “I’m here now. I’m not going to leave again.”

You don’t release your grip on him. You’re not willing to take the chance.

After a moment, Kirishima speaks again. “Are you ready to go?”

“Go?” You echo, finally pulling away. “Go where?”

“Home.” He says, and he means the bathhouse. He means the spirit world.

“You want me to work for you?”

“I want you to help us run it.” He corrects. The distinction is important for both of you — though the memories are distant, you both know what it feels like to have your names and voices erased so cleanly that it makes you wonder if you ever existed fully at all.

“I don’t know anything about running a bathhouse. Especially not one for spirits.” You say, but Kirishima just laughs.

“You were always a hard worker. You’ll learn as you go. That’s what we’ve all been doing.”

You want to say yes. The word beats in your head like a drum, and you can’t think of a good reason to say no. The bathhouse. Home. The chance to feel real and awake at the same time.

“Okay.” You say on a breath, staring at him with wide eyes. “Stay with me, this time.”

When Kirishima’s face lights up in a smile, it’s the first time that you think you can accurately describe someone as incandescently happy. “Good luck getting rid of me again.”

You laugh, feeling nearly delirious with relief and joy. It’s real. He’s real. He’s come back for you, and now you’re going back with him. You think you should probably feel nervous or hesitant, but this brief encounter has felt more solid and right than the rest of the night spent with distant school-friends made uncomfortable by your silences.

“So, how do we get there?” You ask, but Kirishima just grins at you like you should already know the answer.

The train station is tucked away down an alley just off a busy main shopping district.

“It’s easy to miss if you don’t know exactly where you're going.” Kirishima tells you with a sharp smile, and it’s easy to believe. The red brick building that housed the train station is unmarked, and the trains couldn’t be seen from the main street. The alley itself is home to many curious sights -- paper lanterns bob overhead (though they don’t seem to be suspended by anything in particular), a yellowed flyer from the 1950s advertising Marlboro cigarettes drifts along on what seems to be a breeze despite the noticeable lack of wind, and three magpies sit on a wall wearing little golden timepieces on chains around their necks and caw in time with the ticking.

“Ready to go home?” Kirishima asks quietly. In his hand, two train tickets flutter in a non-existent breeze.

A family of mice scamper past your feet, pulling a miniature suitcase between them. A tall, thin woman wearing a blank white mask assists them onto the train.

You laugh at the whimsy of it all — it feels as though you’ve stepped into a fairytale, into a dream, into your childhood. “Yes,” You grin, “I’m ready.”

Kirishima beams back at you, and holds out a hand to help you onto the train. Finding a seat was easy — despite all the passengers you had seen boarding, the carriage was oddly empty. As soon as you’re seated, you sigh. It feels as though you’re sinking into an old overstuffed armchair, comfortable and familiar. When the whistle blows and the train starts moving, you turn eagerly to watch as the train begins to pick up speed. Within moments, you find that you can barely recognise the landscape blurring past the window — It seems that you’re zooming passed a beautiful sea-view, despite the fact that the city the train station was located in was conspicuously land-locked. You sigh happily and lean against your seat.

You still don’t remember everything about your experience in the spirit world all those years ago, but you think you remember hearing someone telling you “Once you meet someone you never really forget them. It just takes a while for your memories to return."

You make eye contact with Eijirou, who smiles back at you so fondly that it nearly hurts to look at. He’s changed so much from the boy in your dreams, in your memories. His eyes are no longer glassy and distant — now they’re shiny and expressive and so bright. His hair is longer too; still spiked and wild, but longer and curling softly over the curve of his neck and shoulders. He’s the boy your remember from all those years ago, but he’s also a man now. Grown, like you have, but smiling at you gently just like you’re ten years old again.

Through the window behind his head, the sunrise begins to bathe the water in delicate pinks and yellows. You’ll wait for as long as you need to for the memories to return, but even if they don’t that’s alright. You can just make new ones.

#this is so cheesy lol but whatever i've been staring at this doc for too long and i want it out of my sight #kirishima x reader #bnha x reader #kirishima eijirou #ghibli au #kirishima eijiro fluff #kirishima x y/n #mha x reader

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escapist-dreams · 3 years

Text

Fix it ~ Invincible Fanfiction

Summary: Rex's hand gets damaged in a fight. No one is willing to help him, so he helps himself.

Warnings: spoilers for both the Invincible animated show(episode 7) and comics(issue #40) concerning Rex-Splode, injuries(nothing nearly as graphic as the source material)

Word Count: 2.3k

This is my first Invincible fanfic, and one of the first fics I've written in awhile! Nonetheless, I hope you enjoy! Feel free to tell me what you think about it! Constructive criticism would be appreciated :D

"We meet yet again, Invincible!" D.A. Sinclair shouted with his usual dramatic flair. He had escaped from the government facility a couple months ago and holed up in a sewer, making more of his fucked up 'reanimen' who the new Guardians of the Globe were now fighting.

His army of cyborgs were unleashed onto the fleeing crowd, more destructive than self destructive this time. Sinclair must've taken notes from his previous failures.

While they targeted the heroes, civilians were caught in the crossfire left and right. Dupli-Kate evacuated the remaining civilians while Shrinking-Rae fought off any cyborgs coming near. The rest of the team tried to disarm the cyborgs without killing them, which Mark made them agree to do before the fight.

Invincible went through one after the other, knocking out the cyborgs, one could tell he was holding back. Monster Girl knocked out a good chunk of them, but accidentally killed one or two with the strength of her monster form. One of them slammed her against a building, sending a big crack up the wall, no doubt affecting civilians in the upper floors. Shrinking-Rae rushed to save those in the building affected by the crack, while Monster Girl slumped against the wall, down for the count.

Rex-Splode made it past the wall of reanimen defending Sinclair and shot a projectile at his torso. He stumbled as the magnet hit his side and exploded, only grazing him but doing damage all the same. He cupped a hand around the wound, and when he regained his composure, looked directly at Rex.

"You'll pay for that!" With a movement of his hand, D. A. Sinclair ordered the cyborg to target Rex-Splode.

"Sure I will, asshole!" Rex smirked and raised his hand again, aiming for Sinclair's head. The cyborg intervened, lunging towards Rex, who dodged and backed away. He couldn't kill the guy, but he really didn't want to get beat to a bloody pulp today. He made a split second decision to shoot him in the legs to slow him down. He did so, but all he received for his efforts was the sound of a small metal impact. He'd missed the human parts, the projectile only slightly slowed the cyborg.

Just as he was about to shoot again, the cyborg grabbed his hand, crushing flesh and metal alike. Rex doubled over as a wave of pain hit him like a brick. He tried to push past it after a few moments, looking up just in time to see Robot come up behind the reaniman, knocking him out with a punch. Invincible grabbed a piece of metal from a street sign that had been crushed in the wreckage of the battle and bent it tightly around Sinclair, effectively trapping him. And since the cyborgs were all either knocked out or no longer under his control, the battle was over.

"You couldnt've done that earlier?" Rex complained as Mark tied up Sinclair, wincing in pain. Several members of the team gave him a familiar look of annoyance.

"Maybe if you weren't too busy cowering we would've finished this sooner." Samson stated.

"I wasn't--!" Rex began, but he doubled over again before he could finish, another wave of pain hitting him.

The rest of the team had sustained some injuries as well, but they were able to shake it off for the most part by the time they arrived back at the guardians' base.

"Hey Robot-" Rex tried to catch him before they fully returned to the group.

"It's Rudy."

"Right. Rudy, can you uh.." he pointed to his busted up hand, the blood dried onto the metal. Rudy made a wincing sound at the sight, then looked to their friends, who were in a group celebrating the won battle.

"Hm.. That's going to take a bit to fix, if you can wait I'll fix it in a couple minutes." he decided. Rex opened his mouth to protest, but closed it and nodded in agreement. The two rejoined the group.

They spent a few minutes having conversations in small groups, some about the fight, and some about completely different things. After about half an hour passed, Mark got up from his seat, explaining that he needed to get back home, as he had some homework to finish up. Slowly the group dissolved, rejoining their everyday lives. Rex ran to catch Rudy before he and Amanda left.

"Hey Rudy, can you fix this thing before you go? If you couldn't tell, it *kinda* hurts." Rex gestured to his hand, pulling the glove up a bit to show the broken metal and bloody skin.

"Can it wait, Rex? Me and Amanda are getting lunch." he paused, conflicted, "you can join if you want." he offered politely, but judging by the looks on his and Amanda's face, it wasn't an invitation.

"I'll pass." Rex sighed, unsure if he was more angry or sad about it at this point. Rudy shrugged as if to say "your loss", and he and Amanda left the base. Rex left as well a few moments later, Kate and Rae's conversation fading behind him as he made his way to his apartment.

Rex tried to ignore it, he really did. But god, it hurt. He must've been in shock before, but now that he had time to really think about and feel the injury, the pain set in. The metal of his hand had torn into his flesh and he was afraid to move it for fear of further lodging it into his arm. After awhile of trying to ignore the injury, Rex decided he couldn't take it anymore. If no one would help him, he would help himself.

Rex knew a thing or two about robotics since he got his powers from the devices in his wrists, and had been taught a bit at the facility for use in battlefield situations. So he got some spare tools he used for small repairs on his arms and got to work fixing his hand. It took just about all night, but by the end he was fairly confident that he'd at least helped the situation.

He must've done something right because next time the guardians fought a villain, he was able to shoot the projectiles from his hand. No need to ask Rudy for help. And the next time it was damaged, and he fixed it himself again. This time his aim was slightly off. He hit several walls, the ground, and nearly a civilian before his desired target, but it was fine, right? He hit the guy eventually, he missed the civilian, and it still worked decently well.

He continued to repair it himself, using the knowledge from his previous mishaps to improve upon it. It continued to have slight malfunctions, but it worked.

Until it didn't.

He aimed, and shot, but the small explosive wouldn't budge. It wouldn't leave his hand, something blocked it. The BB lit up as he tried to shoot, but it exploded in his hand.

"Fuck!" Rex yelled, throwing a magnet from his belt with his offhand and dodging out of the way of an oncoming attack.

The team made quick work of the enemy, but not before they got a few good hits in on Dupli-Kate and Monster Girl as well. Amanda was slumped against a wall while Kate Prime nursed an injury on her side.

Back at the base, Rudy was busy being at Amanda's side. She had a minor concussion, but overall she was alright. The excessive blood from a cut on her head made the injury look more serious than it was. They were thankful that she was alright, minus a bit of blood loss and a head injury.

Rex wanted to celebrate her quick recovery longer than he did, but hesitantly left after drinks were had and the party died down a bit. He knew he would have to work on his hand for awhile to get it in working order and get any sleep that night.

It was already much later in the day by the time he arrived at his apartment. Repairs went well for the most part. He had passed out before realigning the metal, but quickly aligned it before heading to the base that morning, presumably deeming it functional, which was an achievement in Rex's opinion considering how badly it was broken and lack of materials. He got hardly any sleep, but he wasn't exactly the type to usually get a full eight hours every night anyways.

The next day after training, Rudy approached Rex unexpectedly.

"Hey Rex, I noticed your hand got busted up pretty badly yesterday. Need me to fix it?" Rudy offered, glancing at Rex's barely-together hand with a hint of what might be worry. Rex scoffed.

"Oh no it's fine," he said, half proud of his work and half bitter at Rudy. "I figured it out."

Rudy gave him a curious look, pausing for a moment before repeating, "You 'figured it out'?"

Rex nodded, taking off his glove and showing off his hand, which he'd barely been able to peice back together the night before. "I figured it out."

He'd had to patch up the hand with spare metal parts and slightly off-size bolts, but it wasn't too bad of a job. From a certain angle, it'd look fine even. A bit busted up, used for sure, but functional. Now, from the angle of someone with as much knowledge in robotics as Rudy had, the sight was returned after a long pause with a vaguely annoyed, "this is going to take awhile."

"What're you two doing?" Amanda asked, walking into the workroom with a half empty carton of disguised booze.

"Rex tried to fix his hand. By himself." Rudy explained condescendingly after a pause that made it obvious he was focused on his work. Rex scoffed at the answer.

"I think I did a great job, thank you very much." And besides being proud of his attempt at fixing it, the way he phrased it made Rex sound like an idiot, as if he hadn't asked for help several times before deciding to fix the problem himself.

"You put the metal covering back in place just off enough to block the projectile, the bolts are all the wrong size, and part of it is still jabbing into your arm. This isn't even the right kind of.." he trailed off, clicking a new bolt in place before mumbling, "how did you even fight like this-?!"

"Well it's not like you bothered to help me when I asked.." Rex answered with the tone of an upset child.

"You didn't say how bad it was."

"I showed you! You saw it!" Rex nearly shouted, frustration and anger bubbling up in his chest and out his mouth.

"I would have fixed this easily if you'd asked sooner."

"I did ask sooner!"

"You could've asked when I wasn't busy." Rudy spoke nearly absent-mindedly, focusing intently on prying part of the metal out of damaged tissue that tried to heal around it.

Rex hissed in pain before responding, "When were you not busy? I asked you like three times, you told me to wait!"

"I just told you, I was busy. Why didn't you go to Cecil for this?"

"Oh yeah, like I'm asking some creepy ass guy from the government to fix my hand- No fucking way!" Rex tried to ignore the hint of fear in his chest at the idea of some shady government operative poking and prodding at him in a blindingly white room.

"You'd rather bother me than ask someone whose job it is to fix things for help?"

"I'd rather ask my friend for help!"

"You could have asked when I wasn't busy." Rudy repeated, obviously struggling to keep his cool. "I'm not going to drop everything for you, Rex!"

"Yeah? Of course not, but I bet you'd drop everything for her." Rex pointed at Amanda, who had a front row seat to the argument standing in the doorway. The two locked eyes for a moment, then Rudy looked away to glare at Rex.

"At least she offers something to the team. She's an invaluable asset and I need to keep her safe." He didn't need to shout, his tone and words cut deeper than raw anger could.

"Well pardon me for wanting to be able to use my fucking hand--"

"Excuse me?" Amanda snapped, glaring at Rudy. "Rex is my friend, and I won't reciprocate your crush on me just because you look like him and aged down for me. I don't owe you shit. And being a dick to the guy whose face you stole doesn't make you more appealing."

"But I--" Rudy was at a loss for words; a rare occurrence. Scrambling to regain his composure, he blurted out, "But I did this for you!"

"I don't owe you shit for that." she repeated firmly. "And if how you treat Rex is any indication, I wouldn't want to be with you, if this is how you treat a long time friend who needs help."

"Exactly!" Rex agreed, relieved that Amanda stepped in. Rudy glared at him before catching himself and looking back towards Amanda, who sighed angrily.

"He couldn't have asked Cecil!?" Rudy reiterated, grasping at straws trying to 'win' the argument he'd already lost.

"He's obviously uncomfortable with that, or he would've done it already. Something you would notice if you bothered to give him a second glance." Amanda snapped back. "He came to you for help, and you lectured him for it."

"I.."

"Let's go, Rex. This asshole isn't worth our time." she decided. Rex followed her out the door to rejoin the rest of the group with a satisfied sort of pride in his chest. It felt nice to be defended by someone other than himself.

The door slammed shut.

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