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controlmyfeet · 8 months

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i still feel everything when you are near - matty healy

matty healy x ex!reader

angst

warnings: exes, alcohol consumption, insecurities, jealousy (kinda?), pining, kissing, crying (lmk if there’s more i need to add!)

a/n: not sure about this. i think the last time i tried to write fanfiction i was 13, so feedback is appreciated but pls be nice lol. also, english is not my first language!

3570 words

it still hurts.

i didn't think it would hurt as much after 6 months, but seeing him in the flesh makes me realize it does. i thought i was already used to it, thought i was actually doing a good job moving on, if we ignore my slump in the first 3 weeks after the breakup, where i would just leave the house for work and groceries (that i would overbuy because i forgot i'd just cook for myself), i think i was doing pretty okay.

i should've guessed he would be in the city. he can't stay in one place for too long; if he has a few days free in between shows, he's going to look for a studio to work in. usually in london, los angeles, or here. most of the time, he ends up here.

but i never know where he is anymore.

i deleted twitter from my phone after 2 months. maybe because of the questions, perhaps because i didn't care, or maybe i was tired of reading all the tabloids and fearing they were true. maybe i care too much. whatever, right? it just means i haven't seen him in a while, even in pictures.

i'm sitting by the dark wooden bar counter when i first spot him. he's standing with charli and george in the vip section near the dj booth, surrounded by people as always. my friends noticed that he's here too, but they haven't said anything, which i'm grateful for. i'd rather pretend it doesn't affect me.

he looks different, though. his arms are bigger, and his hair is longer; soft curls fall over big brown eyes that crinkle whenever george says something funny. he still has that boyish smile.

lulu and bea went dancing and i said i'd join them in a minute. we go to this club every time we're in the city, but tonight it is more crowded than usual. my secluded spot at the bar being the only place i won't be pushed around. still, i feel bad. it's my best friend's birthday, and we came to new york together to celebrate, but instead, i'm drowning my sorrows with cosmos.

"you won't even say hi now?" i hear matty's voice from behind me and turn around, startled. he stands tall and confident as always, but his eyes no longer hold the same energy. here, up close, i can see that his eyebags look more prominent, and his stubble has grown slightly. he looks tired. i don't think i look any better.

"hi," i say, looking into his brown orbs, phlegmatic, as if the butterflies in my stomach aren't going batshit crazy right now "i didn't see you, sorry."

he grins cheekily, "it's alright, darling."

i don't really know what to say. he should hate me, honestly. it wouldn't be surprising considering how we left things, with all the yelling, name calling. with all the broken picture frames. it started with another rumor while he was on tour, another leaked picture. he was so dismissive and vague about it that i just couldn't find it in myself to trust him, and he could only complain about how childish all of it was.

i guess he doesn't, though. they have free drinks inside the vip section. i remember it from when we came here together. he doesn't need to come all the way to the bar for a drink.

"it-it's good to see you," i stutter, apprehensive now. fearing that maybe he really does hate me, and just walked over to tell me how much so. i mean, i would hate him, too, if i could. but no matter how hard i try, i can't. and believe me, i've tried.

matty is standing so close that the loud music sounds muffled now, and the warm, dim light of the bar reflecting on his silky skin makes me want to melt into his arms. so i try to keep my eyes focused on my feet.

he seems to notice that i'm struggling as i fidget with my empty glass.

"can i get you another one?" he asks amicably. my eyes shift from my feet to the glass in my hands and back to his eyes.

"sure," i reply shyly.

he asks a bartender polishing wine glasses next to us for another cosmopolitan. behind the man, shelves from the same material as the counter hold a collection of glass bottles of different colors with labels sporting french and italian names. matty sits on the barstool beside mine. "so…what are you doing here in new york? i thought you hated the city this time of the year."

and it's true, i hate new york during the summer. the concrete buildings seem to make the temperature much higher, and tourists crowd every corner. it feels claustrophobic. the subway also smells extra bad during these months. but i loved being here with him, no matter the season. i loved being anywhere with him.

"well, yeah. but it's lulu's birthday, and she wanted to celebrate it here, so here we are. the three of us."

"bea is here too?"

"she is, yeah."

him talking about my friends is familiar. many sunday evenings were spent on his couch sharing a bottle of red with my newest candle burning on the side. at the same time, i'd tell him about the most recent gossip in my friend group, and he would listen.

the barman places the new drink before me and takes the empty glass. i thank him and take a sip of the pink liquid. it's sweet and sour, and the vodka calms my nerves a little bit. he's staring at my lips. so i lick them clean.

he shifts, and suddenly, i feel his calloused fingertips brush against my elbow resting comfortably over the counter. much more tender than last time; my skin burns where he touches it.

"how's your writing going?" he asks, looking into my eyes now.

i tell him i'm still at the magazine, it's going alright. not a lot has changed since we broke up. but it's less exciting, more monotonous. i leave that part out. and he asks me about my own stuff, poems and essays hidden in my drafts.

it's just awkward small talk. so awkward. like we're just acquaintances. friends of friends being left alone, being civil to each other.

it's also a conversation we've had before. documents on my computer that weren't fitting enough for the editors or that i just wrote on a whim. he used to tell me to publish them either way, to leave the magazine and find people who actually appreciate my work, or to start my own thing. but it would be useless; they're not good enough.

"well, i don't know, it's been a while since i've written anything out of work." i take another sip, just to calm down a little. "haven't felt very inspired lately."

oh my god, shut up– i can't say this to my ex. it's embarrassing, pitiful.

"it happens." he takes my hand and brushes his thumb over my knuckles. i still shiver "you're really talented, love. you should be proud of yourself. i am."

even his praise hurts now; i miss hearing it daily. it's a stab in my chest, salt on the wound. so i just bite my lip and nod. afraid that if i say something, a choked sob will come out.

there's longing in his eyes, and he gets a look like he wants to say more. but his gaze flickers behind me for a moment, and he drops my hand and gives my left shoulder a squeeze, showing me a soft smile.

"i'll leave you be, then. it was nice seeing you, love."

there's a voice in the back of my head begging me to make him stay, but i know i can't do that, not when i recall why it ended the way it did. still, i want to reach for his hand and pull him back to me, just for a few minutes at least. but someone grips my shoulders.

"there you are!" lulu says excitedly, already a few drinks ahead of me. her dark blonde hair messy and her skin glimmering with sweat from all the dancing. bea follows right behind her. "c'mon, let's do some shots, you need to power up for all the dancing you owe me."

"alright." i force a giggle and down my drink as bea asks the bartender for three tequila shots.

a few minutes and many shots later, the three of us are on the dance floor, swaying wildly to the loud, thumping bass of whatever music the dj's playing. just being around my girls makes me feel less anxious, and the flashing lights, plus all the alcohol already flowing through my body are making my mind a bit hazy, which helps me let loose a little.

as i move, i can feel the beat of the music inside my chest, sweaty bodies pushing against me without a care. i even forget about matty for a minute. i don't think about how his hands used to feel on me when we danced together, not at all.

we dance for maybe 30 minutes. until lulu finds one of her many ex-flings, and, as they catch up, bea asks me to go to the bathroom with her. taking my hand, she leads me out of the crowded area and towards the door labeled "ladies' room".

the contrast from the mostly dark club to the bathroom's white walls makes my eyes squint. it's colder in here, quieter. i can hear the stifled bass from the music and high heels clicking against the floor tiles.

as i wait for bea, i brace myself on the sink in front of me and look into the mirror. everything is happening too fast. talking to matty, downing shots, and being dragged to the dance floor immediately. my head is pounding. i didn't have the time to process what is going on tonight.

my ears are ringing, and it feels like all the alcohol has suddenly lost all its effect. instantly sobering up, i grab a paper towel and dab it on my arms and face to try to get rid of the sweat. turning on the sink, i wet my hands and place them on the back of my neck to cool down and try to help with the dizziness. i hear the toilet flush, and bea comes out of the cubicle, running her hands through her wavy black hair. i reach into my purse and pull out my lipgloss, coating my lips evenly while looking at myself in the mirror.

"i'm going to the back for a bit," i tell bea as she approaches the sink next to me.

"you okay? do you need water?" she asks, concerned

"yea- yes, i just need to breathe a little."

"okay, text me if you need anything." i just nod and leave the bathroom. she knows me, knows i need to be alone.

pushing through crowded bodies, i head to the club's back door, leading to a narrow alleyway where the employees usually store extra liquor bottles. it also doubles as a smoking area, so i shouldn't be surprised when i see him as soon as i open the door. tattooed arms flexing as he lights a cigarette, probably not his first one of the night, and i turn back to try to leave before he sees me.

"leaving so soon?" i turn around again and already feel my cheeks heating up. embarrassed, like a kid caught eating dessert before dinner. "you can stay."

"it's okay, i'll go somewhere else," i wave him off mindlessly. he came here to enjoy his cig on his own, right? he doesn't need his ex-girlfriend plaguing his chill alone time "i don't want to bother you, i just need some air."

"please stay." it's not the first time he says this, but this time i do.

with pink-tinged cheeks and heels clicking loudly, i slowly walk down the three small steps in front of the door and move to stand across him with my back resting against the club's brick wall. the warm summer air hits my skin, and i can hear the rustle of the traffic. "you could never bother me." i pretend i didn't hear him.

"i thought you were quitting," i motion to the burning cigarette between his fingers. the moonlight illuminated the alleyway, making the smoke around him look like some kind of silver aura. he smiles at me.

"i'm trying," he says, taking a drag and blowing it out by the side of his mouth, and i laugh.

"it sure looks like it," i reply, still smiling. i'm not as nervous as i expected i would be in this situation; maybe the alcohol hasn't worn off as much as i thought.

he shrugs, running a hand through his hair. "well, you know me".

my eyes follow his every movement, long, calloused fingers holding the rolled paper limply and bringing it up to his red, pouty lips. i start to fidget with the end of my skirt, trying to distract myself by looking at how my fingers twist the fabric. busying myself, so i don't remember how those same lips used to feel against my own or on the curve between my neck and shoulder.

i look up again when i hear matty step on his cigarette– putting it out– and he starts to walk in my direction. my breath hitches. we are face to face now, noses almost touching. closer than we were at the bar. i can see every freckle on his face when he's this close. i can see the chapped corner of his mouth and the grey that's starting to show up on his now tousled hair.

"why did you leave?" he's straight to the point. his voice comes out low, almost a whisper. at our position, there's no need to be louder than that. there's no hatred in his tone; still, he's not smiling. a flash of hurt appears on his face for a moment. "didn't i make you happy?"

"of course you did, matty." i build the courage to look into his eyes, honey pouring out of them. "we've already talked about this."

he lifts his right hand to rest it on the wall beside my head while letting out a scoff. "but i don't get it," his tone is a little bit louder now. he's not aggressive, but he's not whispering anymore. "what happened?"

"it was for the best." i've stopped whispering too. i place my hands on my forehead. as if to avert the impending headache that will follow this conversation. i don't really know what happened either or when it started happening. i feel sweat droplets running down my hairline, not sure if it's from the summer heat, our closeness, or my disquietude.

"for the best of who?" he questions, lifting an eyebrow, "i don't feel any better!"

"we were fighting all the time, you know this!" there's a lump in my throat, and i can already feel the pressure between my eyes, working hard so the tears don't fall. i lower my voice again. "it was only a matter of time until one of us left, i just left first."

his gaze softens– probably after seeing my flooding waterline– and it's a while before he talks again, as if he's gathering his thoughts. thinking before he speaks for once, "i could never leave you" it's a low, gravely whisper, and i probably wouldn't have heard it if we weren't this close. "i wish you'd stayed."

it's a blow to my chest. like a gunshot, blood running down my ribcage. and for a second, i don't think i can breathe.

"i wish you'd done a lot of things, matty." my vision is blurry now, and i feel a single tear roll down my right cheek. i wish he would answer my calls when he stayed late at the studio. i wish he would listen to me when i said i felt neglected. i wish he would give me more security when i felt jealous of the girls partying with him and the boys while i was on the other side of the pond. i wish i stayed. when i can't sleep because i suddenly realize that my bed is too cold, too empty. when i wake up, and there are no kisses on my bare shoulder. when i have to climb over my kitchen counter to reach the can of pasta sauce on the top shelf. when i'm so anxious, and there's no one to hold me… "sometimes i wish i stayed too."

slowly, his hands cup my jaw. long fingers run lightly across my skin and wipe the lonely tear on my face. the hairs on my neck straighten up, and my heart stirs, beating a little faster. he carefully traces his right thumb over my lower lip, giving me time to reject and push him away. and then, his soft lips lock on mine. no warning. i feel his stubble rub against my chin and let out a sigh. there's a flutter on my lower stomach, burning. i should have pushed him away. instead, my fingers trail up his neck, nails brushing against his skin, and finally into his hair as he coaxes his hot tongue into my mouth. he tastes like cigarettes, of course. i can also taste the rum and lime from the mojito he had earlier. one of his hands travels down and he pulls me by the waist, bodies touching fully now. matty groans into my liquored mouth and i preen; it's good to know i still have that effect on him. that i can still make him let out those pretty sounds with just a kiss. it might be selfish, but we both are. because i bet he's proud too, that every touch of his still sends shivers down my spine. i pull out for air first, lungs already starting to burn. my fingers are still buried in his curls as he rests his forehead on mine, both breathing heavily.

"i need you, love," he whispers against my kiss-swollen lips, voice cracking. there's a smudge of lipgloss on the side of his mouth. it was no use reapplying it.

"matty, i can't," my voice comes out weak, just like how i feel.

"why not? you got somebody?" matty frowns, starting to sound a bit agitated.

i shake my head lightly "i don't."

"what is it?"

"i already told you" it's my turn to cup his face now, scuff prickling against my palms. "we already had this fight before, you get annoyed because i can't trust you, and i start yelling because you don't take me seriously!"

"of course i take you seriously!" he defends, already becoming increasingly exasperated. i just shake my head; there's no use going through this all over again. it hurt enough the first time. however, i still close my eyes, knowing that if i keep looking at him, the chances of me believing him are higher.

"i'm not built for this, matty," for being away from him, for time zones and phone calls, for pretty girls throwing themselves all over him "i'm not strong enough."

"look at me, baby." his hands moved from my waist up to cup my face again, thumb brushing lightly over my cheekbones. "please," i open my eyes.

"do you love me?" he asks. i realize his eyes are glossed over now "because i love you. so fucking much."

it will be easier if i say no, break his heart all at once. give him a reason to give up. it takes me a while, but i nod.

"yeah?" there's a glimmer of hope on his wet iris.

"i do, but-"

"then we'll figure it out" it's not that simple; just figuring it out is not enough. we hurt each other.

"we'll just end up in the same place, matty," i explain firmly. at this point, tears stream both of our faces. his chest heaves, and i try to contain another sob. he turns his face slightly to press his lips to my palm, just for a second.

"stay with me, please." our noses touch, and i can no longer distinguish his tears from mine. "i'll do better, i swear."

"it's not going to work."

"just for tonight at least, please," it comes out ragged, and he grazes his lips on mine, leaving a gentle but salty peck. "just for a little bit."

this shouldn't be happening. it's a mess, all of it. no matter how hard or how many times we try, even if we start all over again, we'll just end up in the same place. i know how i am and how he is. our love is tainted, a ticking bomb. so no matter how much i love him, how much i want him, i know we'll just go back to those screaming matches and broken pictures.

but if we keep doing this again and again, maybe then we won't have to say goodbye. at least i won't have to spend an entire lifetime missing him. so maybe just one night won't hurt, right? i've done it a million times. staying for just a little bit won't hurt…i think.

okay, just for a little bit.

#matty healy x reader #matty healy angst #the 1975 #matty healy fanfiction #matty healy fic #matty x reader #the 1975 fanfic

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yoursweetwife · 3 months

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Rivals to lovers with Ruan Mei

Warning: gn reader, fluff, cheeky reader, headcannons

Your relationship with Ruan Mei can only be described as passive-aggressive.

At first glance, it can't be said that there is a mutual dislike between you and Ruan. You study and conduct various experiments together, but your motives are completely different from hers. Very often, these disagreements lead to severe conflicts, where both of you continue to push each other, continuing to defend your own ideologies. At this point, it is completely useless to try to stop you.

Nevertheless, you keep coming back to each other. No one but you two understands why this is happening.

Ruan Mei will always remember the day you angered her. She wrote down your words in her notebook, which she uses for important notes. Although even the scientist himself does not know why she recorded your birthday and some facts about you.

Over the years of working together, she's gotten used to your presence, arguments, and cheeky comments on your part. Without this, her day can hardly be called full-fledged, on the other hand, your desire to learn more about the phlegmatic scientist and her hidden past did not let you leave.

Mutual interest does not prevent you two from acting a little childish.

Harmless dirty tricks have become almost a tradition. It all started with the fact that you decided to treat her to a cake, which was, to put it mildly, terrible. You couldn't stop laughing. Of course, then you got a reply from her, but Ruan Mei's shocked look was worth several hours of cleaning the office of various plants. This went on for a while, until what she was neutral about soon began to give her pleasure.

Maintaining a long, awkward silence is not uncommon. Ruan Mei is very rarely the initiator of a wordless battle, but due to her ability to quickly lose interest, she almost always remains the winner. The next day, Ruan may come up to you as if nothing had happened and talk about a new study, or he may not talk to you for several days until you come up to her.

Ruan Mei is not someone who likes to tease, but even she enjoys seeing your emotional side. She remembers every awkward situation that happened to you and uses it to her advantage. Usually, May doesn't even need an excuse, she says what comes to her mind and watches with a grin as your face turns red.

#Some thoughts about Ruan Mei #I'll write about Ration too hehe #It's more about partners who don't like each other #but...#hsr x reader #star rail #ruan mei x reader #ruan mei #honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #hsr

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2cutie · 3 months

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Since you're opening requests, bi han x fem reader truama bonding over their daddy issues😁

anon, why must you call me out like this? im not saying bi-han could fix my daddy issues, i'm just saying he's very pretty & would probably make them worse. i'd still tap it.

Your relationship, if you could call it one, to your father was strained. Connection was minimal; you were left with an absence in your heart. In your upbringing, you had been brought into the Lin Kuei for being a potentially successful warrior. You were brought in relatively young, so you had mostly grown up with Bi-Han and his brothers.

But after time, the future grandmaster and you had an upspoken bond that you didn't share with others. You two never spoke much about it, but the parallel connection was there. You knew his father for a long enough time before his death to see how alike it was to your own, and the strain he put on Bi-Han. His life seemed akin to yours, specifically with how yours had molded you.

The past trauma you constantly buried down was weighing on you. So you sat alone in one of the gardens of the temple, where you knew minimal people visited. You were in your thoughts, your memories and past, and allowing yourself to wallow solemn. It was your own form of growth.

Bi-Han had been wondering the halls. His mind was rampant with alike thoughts and couldn't focus on his work. He's no better at healthily dealing with emotions, so instead of trying to manage and work through them, he decided to walk and let the thoughts drift off naturally.

He ended up passing through the gardens and saw you there, sitting on the bench. He didn't pay much mind at first, instead quickening his pace since he wanted minimal interaction in his avoidant state.

But you weren't moving. Barely blinking. You were typically a bit more on the hyperactive side. He wasn't used to such a… phlegmatic stance from you.

The more he looked, the more he saw the barely-there glaze in your eyes.

Bi-Han may not have the greatest grip on emotions but he could identify them in another person. He found himself approaching you. He eventually sat beside you, though you didn't seem to notice right away.

You didn't state anything, but he seemed to know where your thoughts were,; as if yours and his mind were intertwining. It's like he heard your unbridled emotions you never spoke to, ones he knew. It gave him a reason to sit and reflect.

As he stayed, he looked to you. He thought to the past you shared. About how much had changed, and how much older you were now. It was something he never took the time to think about, but your silence was so off-kilter that it made you seem too old. Too hurt and scarred for your age. He never would admit that he preferred your normal persona to this absent visage of you.

But mostly, he didn't want you to be like him. To become what he was, vacant and distant; the byproduct of his father's teachings. It didn't suit you.

Your eyes blinked then, like you heard his rampant thought. A gleam shone in them, even if it was faint. You moved for the first in quite some time. You met each other's eyes and there was an understanding there. As if your eyes could speak the memories that haunted you, as if they were displaying each of your younger selves that you both hid away, and still hid deep inside that stayed sheltered.

Your thoughts were between your father and life before the Lin Kuei. You had never even found solace in Bi-Han's father, either. There was a mutual estranged relationships there.

But the reciprocal bond had subjected you both to an understanding of the other. He could speak with his eyes and you could speak with yours, with no need for words. There would be no need to display emotions you both hid. The volumes your eyes spoke were parallel to each other's suffering. You were in sync to each other without having your problems being exactly the same.

You saw how Bi-Han never accepted his father's teachings. How he grew indifferent to them, and seemed outcasted by his father. It was why he wanted to break tradition, and it seemed only you had noticed that. Only you respected that. And that brought solace to him; a peace he could not find in anyone else.

You then moved closer to him, just a bit. Just until both of your arms would press against each other. It was ever subtle, but it was an evident sign of trust. Of comfort. For both you and him.

Bi-Han's eyes would follow the movement. It was a simple gesture, but it resonated within him. He was devoid to expression, but even he could be affected by such a simple gesticulation. And yours were one he could never deny. One he could feel at ease with.

It was a elusive display that you both cared for each other, just not in an expressive way.

He would stay with you then, until you felt better. Until you gained yourself again, or even just a small fragment. He didn't care how long it would take. There weren't many words to say, even less that needed to be spoken.

You stayed alone in the garden together, in each other's mutual comfort of each other and that was enough for the both of you. To be vulnerable with each other yet still maintain a front. You both saw past each other's exterior. You were one of the same.

#mortal kombat 1 #mortal kombat #bi han x reader #bi han #sub zero x reader #mk1 #mortal kombat x reader #i hope this reads well because i started typing too much to try to be poetic but it may be a mouthful lol #my art

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azaleakoneko · 4 months

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༝༚༝༚ ༝༚༝༚ ༝༚༝༚ ༝༚༝༚

Sanji x Fem|Reader

A/N: This is for @vodkeii Loverboy Sanji Event! My first of the three entries ahh I’m so nervous, but I hope you enjoy it! 🙈 Title is based on lyrics from the song It’s been a long, long time — (covered by Kitty Kalen), which is also the song featured in the edit above :3

Plot: Y/n is the daughter of a farmer/merchant that has a deal with the Baratie to provide fresh produce. Usually her father would do the deliveries but when he got sick he put y/n in charge of the deliveries in his stead. At first she was nervous to be going to a pirate restaurant, but everyone seemed friendly enough and eventually she met Sanji and was immediately charmed. She started making weekly deliveries to the restaurant and saving up her wages to eat there herself and see Sanji more often, leading to a sweet cooking date! 🥰

Warnings: None, Just fluff 💕. Use of terms of endearment (Sweetheart and My angel)

Word count: 5.6k

Network: @enchantedforest-network

Please note that just because this work is fluff and appropriate for consumption of any age, that cannot be said about the rest of my blog. This is primarily an 18+ Blog and will stay that way, so keep that in mind, thank you!

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Three months ago

“Father please, you can’t be serious…! You expect me to go there alone? But they’re pirates… What if I’m kidnapped or killed… or worse!” You protested with defiance in your voice after what he had just told you. “Are there really no other alternatives?”

He informed you that beginning that next morning, you were to take over in his place taking his deliveries to the Baratie, commandeering a small transport ship that had been your small family’s main source of income for as long as you could remember; selling produce to pirates and marines alike, but mostly to the Baratie restaurant since it offered the best compensation. At least that’s what your father always said when he’d set sail, reassuring you he would return home safely every time. He usually did, which never did manage to ease your distaste, not even when he’d come home with leftovers of the best things you had ever tasted in your life. It just unsettled you with all of the stories of the ruthless, pillaging, heartless pirates you had spent your whole life growing up hearing — you couldn’t understand how any amount of berries would be worth it, and now it was your turn.

“Oh calm down, y/n. You act like I’m sending you off to a slaughter house or something. It’s a restaurant for god's sake.” Your father said with an amused guffaw that sent him into a flurry of phlegmatic coughs, urging him to grab the handkerchief off of the side table so he could cover his mouth. After he regained his breath he looked up at you with an extremely worn and rugged expression that he tried his hardest to hide with the warmest smile he could manage given the pain. “Please don’t argue. I understand how you feel, but you’re the only one that can do it. When I’m gone you’ll have to handle all of the business, not just the Baratie deal. I just want to make sure you won’t struggle sweetheart.”

You were bubbling with frustration, especially when he told you to calm down, and more than ready to pop like an overheated kettle about to boil over but were immediately snapped out of your streak of rebellion at the sound of his health issues acting up again. It always sent a wave of worry through your heart whenever he got like this and your body propelled you to his side, helping him up from his padded rocking chair and towards his bedroom for the night. “Okay fine I won’t argue, just please take it easy father… I understand. I’ll do it alright, if that’s the price for your peace of mind. Now go lie down and I’ll fetch you some tea and your medication.”

The past few years had been a steady decline for him, but you grew up learning all of the basics to get by from how to farm and how to haggle with merchants, all the way to hosting your own little fresh produce stand planted right next to his when you were younger until you were old enough to handle the flood of clientele that visited his on your own and learning how to handle and save household and business funds. It was a lot to learn and came with many conflicts between you and your father when you brought to his attention that other young women were out searching for potential marriage candidates and having fun with their friends instead of having a business thrust upon them. Still, your love and respect for your father kept you close to home and working to take over since he didn’t have any sons to pass his business onto. Love and familial obligation were your ultimate burdens to carry just like raising and protecting you alone all of these years had been his to carry.

So with great reluctance, when it finally rolled over into the early hours of the next morning, there you were loading up the little transport ship and cross referencing the corresponding item checklist.

It somehow bothered you that it was playing out just like a usual run of the mill delivery. There were no stormy clouds or end of times type of catastrophes foreboding a dangerous trip or stopping you from setting off, instead you were faced with the usual misty early morning fog that hugged the water before dissipating when the sun made its arrival. However, you would already be well on your way to the Baratie before the sun peaked, needing to have the goods delivered so they could be received by the kitchen and prepped before the restaurant opened up for that evening's diners. You just hoped they didn’t decide to put you on the menu since this was your first time engaging with pirates. It was silly to think of sure and possibly a bit outlandish for cannibalism to be your first fear out of all of this, since even pirates were still just people, but surely some of the stories had to hold merit. Despite these lingering fears however, you had promised your father that you would handle it so he could rest and that was a promise you weren’t about to break.

The seas themselves were relatively calm too as if to add salt to the wound of your overactive imagination, and any other trade vessel would’ve been praising whatever gods there were for the easy travel, but you stood at the wheel of the ship with knots in your stomach. The waves lapped at the boat and urged you closer to the restaurant, the fish shape of the ship immediately catching your attention. If you hadn’t known any better you would have assumed it was a fisherman’s boat, but the closer you got the clearer the word ‘restaurant’ became and your nerves were now at an all time high. You navigated your vessel towards the floating docks attached to the larger ship, docked, and began to tie up the safety rope just like your father taught you. It was a pretty easy task but it was made longer due to your trembling fingers.

When you were finished you gave the rough rope a good tug to ensure it’s stability before making your way back onboard to grab a few of the crates to carry them towards what you assumed to be the back entrance. Part of you wondered how your father had even made the deliveries as long as he had all by himself as you carefully walked along the creaky wooden dock so you wouldn’t drop any of the produce. All was well with only a few close calls as you levied the weight of the boxes between the wall and your frame as you lifted your hand and timidly tapped your knuckles against the door. It only took a moment of waiting before it swung open, the lively sounds of an already busy kitchen falling upon your ears as a portly, normal enough looking man in a standard white chef's outfit came out to assess the disturbance with a raised brow until he saw the boxes.

“Oh that’s right, I forgot it would be a new person coming today. Thank you kindly. We were wondering if we’d be able to stay on schedule today or not, but you’re just on time.” The man said with apparent relief in his tone as he wasted no time in helping you, grabbing the boxes like nothing. “I’ll go ahead and take these in and send some men out to collect the rest. Just go ahead and go through the kitchen and wait inside at one of the tables, I’m sure Zeff will be right with you with your payment.”

There wasn’t really room to protest and you recognized that name at least from what your father told you so you nodded your head with a polite but somewhat stiff smile. “Of course! I’m glad I wasn’t late. Oh okay, sure, I’ll go in then…” You said as you steeled your nerves once again to enter the pirate restaurant. You expected to see chaotic disorder and a mess of drunken old men, but what you saw was instead a very clean and professional kitchen with everyone already attentively prepping meats and vegetables of all sorts and colors. Everything smelled so good, especially when she walked behind a man opening an oven containing a fresh beautiful fluffy cheesecake. It looked like a pretty cloud on its own and you could already imagine what it would taste like melting in your mouth with a sweet cream topping and strawberries, but this wasn’t the time to think about food. You had to get your fathers payment and go home, back to where you felt in your own element.

It was a little calmer when you pushed past the service doors into the main dining room of the Baratie. The main doors weren’t open yet so it was just you and the staff getting the room ready, which somehow made you feel both at ease and also on display as you ogled the decorative room around you. The outside had been impressive enough, but the inside was intricately designed with paintings of far away places and long gone people adorned with golden inlaid frames on beautiful crimson walls, tables topped with plates of the finest hand painted china, beautiful centerpieces to accompany the arrangements, and majestic pillars holding up a secondary dining area. It was a far cry from the uncultured barbarians you had heard of and left your head swimming as you made your way to a table out of the way of the hustle and bustle, shrinking down into the nearest chair as you tried to make yourself less of an eyesore and obstacle for the workers. If anything you felt underdressed now.

“…” A soft sigh left your lips as you kept your hands on your lap, fingers fiddling with the little charms on the bracelet clasped on your wrist to pass the time as you watched people walk in and out of the kitchen. You had begun to wonder if you had been forgotten about in the process after you had grown weary of gazing around the establishment, but just as you were about to get up from your seat and look for someone who looked to be in charge, someone approached your table and set down a steaming cup of what appeared to be a decorative coffee with adorable little whipped foam hearts. “Oh I’m sorry, I didn’t order this. I’m not here to eat, just to get paid—” Instead of another homely waitstaff, or perhaps even the elder peg legged whiskered chef Zeff you were told about, before you stood a gentleman who looked not much older than yourself who wore a dazzling smile that was only rivaled by the sparkling deep blue of his eyes as he looked down at you. Truthfully it made your heart skip to suddenly be under such an attentive gaze.

“I know madam, this is just because I saw you sitting here by yourself and couldn’t help but bring you a little something sweet since you’ve already sweetened my day.” The charming young blonde man said with a wink as he refused to pick up the pretty steaming cup of enticing coffee until you gave it a try. “Please go ahead and drink it, it’s on the house. And here to be paid, you say? Ahh I’ll be right back. Don’t you go anywhere now sweetheart.”

You watched him turn on his heel and leave toward the kitchen again with a bewildered but intrigued expression on your face as your hands finally left your lap and held the piping hot cup with a light grasp, humming with delight as it thawed out your chilly fingers. “Well that was nice…” It seemed that the small show of kindness was enough to dispel the silly fears you had previously harbored because the cup was quickly brought to your lips, gulping down some of the creamy liquid experimentally and sighing happily as the delicious caffeinated beverage laced with caramel warmed you to the core. The cute little hearts dispelled against your lips, but it was a small price to pay for the delicious taste. “Mm, I’ve never had anything this good.”

You finished the drink quicker than you realized—an adorable pout adorning your lips when there was no longer a drop of your beloved coffee lingering. There wasn’t much time to be disappointed though, the kind stranger that served you before was already heading back towards your table.

“Sorry about that my lady, please allow me to take care of that for you.” He began with another charming smile, taking the cup from your hands and setting it on the tray he held placed off to the side of the table. “Chef Zeff was regrettably a bit busy so he told me to go ahead and give you your payment this time, I hope that’s alright. I promise it’s all there.” He said as one of his hands sunk into his pants pocket to produce a sizable stack of berries. He placed it in your hands gingerly, and he seemed trustworthy enough that you just nodded and carefully tucked the money away in your bag.

“Thank you, Mister, um… Sorry, what was your name?” You asked with a sheepish smile in return, feeling bad for not having already asked the first time around when he had brought you the coffee, although you hadn’t really had the opportunity to to speak much to him before he had left to get the money from Zeff to give to you for the goods.

“My name is Sanji, and it has been my pleasure to help you out this lovely morning. What shall I call you, sweetheart? Unless you’re fine with being called that.” The cheeky blonde man you now knew as Sanji asked with a playful and flirtatious smirk pulling at the corners of his lips as he waited for your response without a shred of shame; going as far as taking your hand in his and pulling it up so he could press a chaste kiss to the back of your hand.

“T-Then thank you, Sanji. It’s nice to meet you,” You stammered in surprise, being reasonably caught off guard by the suddenness of the action and the continued casual flirtation. “-you can just call me y/n.”

“Y/n… Now that’s a perfect name for a stunning angel like yourself.” He tacked on with a seemingly ceaseless supply of butterfly inducing charm that you weren’t entirely sure what to do with. Your cheeks burned from the compliment yet you couldn’t seem to avert your gaze from the man. “So tell me y/n, will you be sticking around for breakfast? You just name it and I can head back to the kitchen and cook it up special for you. I promise it’ll be the best thing you’ve ever had.”

“Breakfast…? Oh I wish I could stay longer, but I’m afraid my father is waiting for me back at home. Perhaps next time I can stay and eat here.” You said, not even sure if a place like this would really fit into your expendable budget, but also not wanting to tell him no when he had been so kind to you. “I look forward to getting to try your cooking, Sanji. If it’s as good as the coffee you made for me I’m sure my savings will be in danger…” You added on with a warm laugh. “But I really must be going, I wouldn’t want to be in the way when customers start arriving. It really was nice to meet you Sanji.”

Sanji was going to protest that it wasn’t possible for you to be in the way, but you had already gotten up from your seat, smoothing your dress down before flashing him a smile that made him hope you really would come back; even if it was just so he could see you when you came to make a sale again. “My cooking is definitely better than the coffee, sweetheart. You’ll just have to find that out the next time you’re here then—which is soon I hope.” He said as he reached forward and gently untangled the charm on your necklace that had gotten wrapped around the chain when you stood up. “There you go, and I hope you don’t mind if I ask to walk you out? Couldn’t very well call myself a gentleman if I let a woman sail off unaided.”

Needless to say you couldn’t refuse and found yourself being escorted back to your ship, safe and sound just like your father had said you would be.

You shared a little bit more back and forth, telling him when the next shipment was to be expected and assuring him that it would be you delivering it again the next time, much to his evident delight. Eventually you realized he had managed to trick you into staying longer than you planned with innocent questions and with reluctance reminded him you had to leave before it got too late. He seemed disappointed but conceded knowing he had no real reason to keep you, even helping to untie the boat from the docks while you made your way to the wheel. You waved each other off, and that morning you took home with you more than just berries; a changed perspective and a desire to come back with enough cash to taste his cooking.

Present Day

Delivery days to the Baratie had become your favorite days of the month the past three months much to your fathers amusement, not that you’d told him the real reason you had warmed up to the job. It didn’t take much for an old man to figure out though when he saw his usually glum and disinterested daughter putting more effort into her appearance for a simple delivery looking to be in much higher spirits. His daughter being happy was nothing he would ever complain about, so he wasn’t too concerned. If anything it was nice to see you unwind and enjoy yourself more often.

“Y/n, why don’t you go ahead and take out what I owe you when you get paid today, huh? Stick around the Baratie for a bit. Treat yourself and eat there and tell your old man what you think of the food at the restaurant, eh? You’ve been working too hard lately. I appreciate it, but you need to take a break too.” Your father said as he walked you to the front door of your shared home to wave you off. “I insist; and y/n…? You look lovely today, honey.”

“Thank you, but what’s gotten into you today, dad?” You said with a laugh as you gave him a tight hug before boarding the little transport ship like usual. “If you’re sure you’ll be okay, I’ll stay for breakfast at least. I have been meaning to for some time now. Do you want me to bring you something back?”

“What, I can’t compliment my daughter?” Your father grumbled as he tossed the rope onboard before supporting his weight with his cane. “I’ll be fine! You worry about me too much, I have food here at home. Be young, go enjoy yourself.”

The boat trip was as usual pretty uneventful, but you were thrilled to finally be able to stay for once instead of leaving after being paid and stealing whatever few precious extra minutes with the handsome cook that had effortlessly gained your interest that you could. You didn’t even mind unloading the boxes today, but you took extra care regardless since you had worn a pretty white dress that shimmered like stardust when the light hit it and you didn’t want to get it dirty before he could see you all dressed up in it.

The delivery went off without issue, and now you sat at your usual seat in the dining room as you waited for Sanji—heart thudding nervously in your chest as butterflies danced in your stomach and throat. Despite the flirting over the past few months, you still never got used to seeing the way he smiled when he saw you, and you were certain that today’s smile would inflict critical damage to your heart, but it was only fair since you were sure to do the same. It felt a bit silly dressing up just for these moments, but every smile and compliment was well worth a few lingering moments of feeling a bit ridiculous.

The moment he appeared in your peripheral vision you straightened in your chair and subconsciously began to fix your hair, but stopped fussing when you could tell that he had seen you. Then there it was, a breathtaking, awestruck, toothy grin like a kid being allowed to open their gifts early on Christmas that sucked the air right out of your lungs.

“Y/n sweetheart, you look absolutely ethereal this morning!” Sanji gasped as he wasted no time in showering the back of your hand in soft kisses; something that had become a usual greeting between the two of you yet never failed to set your heart rate pounding sky high. “To what do I owe the pleasure of seeing an angel in my presence…?” He cooed softly, laying it on thick as per the usual, but today you wanted to see what would happen if you let the casual flirting teeter into new territory.

“Aw Sanji, you're too sweet to me, thank you...!” You smiled shyly as you let your hand stay captured in his gentle grasp, enjoying his warmth. In your desire to see what would happen though, you squeezed his hand and rubbed your thumb over his while looking him in the eyes to answer his question. “Well, I wanted to see you of course; and I just had to finally see what your cooking tastes like.” With the incoming payment today, and expressed permission from your father to use the funds, you were more than prepared to pay whatever price you had to for the ‘best meal you’d ever had’ as Sanji had promised you the first time you had met.

It was clear for a split second that you had completely flustered the poor man by reciprocating even a fraction of the attention he was giving you from the adorable shade of pink that dusted his cheeks, but his happiness at hearing you would finally be dining on the Baratie and eating his food helped his temporary brain override right itself, instantly widening his smile and seemingly just encouraging him to go further with his affections.

“Just for me? Well in that case I can’t refuse, can I?” Sanji said as he carefully pulled you up from your seated position and began to lead you into the kitchen where everyone was working away. It earned you a few curious gazes but they ultimately said nothing as they watched Sanji take you to one of the industrial stoves to show off. Being Zeff’s adopted son had its privileges every now and then. “So what are you in the mood for today, my angel?”

“Are you sure it’s okay that I’m back here? I could’ve just ordered at the table, Sanji…” You asked anxiously, but were taken off guard when he plopped a hand on your head and gently ruffled your hair in a show of affection to make you stop worrying, but still making sure not to mess it up.

“Don’t worry about it y/n, no one’s gonna say anything to you for being in here.” Sanji said with a laugh before smiling brightly down at you. “Could’ve ordered at the table? Nonsense, I won’t have it. Don’t worry about the details, love. I’m going to be cooking for you personally, so don’t worry about paying, okay? Just let me know what sounds good to you and I’ll see what I can do. It’s the least I can do to make your day a little better after you brightened my day so easily.”

You were a bit baffled when he told you that you didn’t need to pay but you weren’t about to question him, especially not when he continued to make your heart skip with those pretty smiles of his. So you nodded in agreement, but it didn’t completely sit right with you to just let him do it by himself when you had come here to spend time with him. “Okay fine, but can I at least help you cook…? I would feel a lot better about not paying if you let me help out. Also, I was thinking maybe some strawberry crêpes? I know it’s simple, but I’m craving sweets.”

Sanji had been looking forward to wowing you with his culinary prowess, but hearing how cute it was that you wanted to help make something to satisfy your sweet tooth had him wholeheartedly agreeing to let you without any hesitation. “Sure, of course you can help me sweetheart. Follow me to the fridge so you can help me grab some things we need? Then I’ll make sure my sweet gets her sweets.” He said as he held his hand out to you, which you then took without a second thought.

“Mhm!” You hummed happily as you kept closely behind him, taking the items he handed you without a fuss or a worry in your mind. It was nice not to have to stress about rushing right back home, especially when things seemed to be going so well between the two of you right now. You even wondered if you could get him to eat with you as you carried the necessary ingredients to the nearby countertop. It wasn't anything too crazy, but it made your day knowing you got to share this time with him, helping him doing what he loved to do. “What would you like me to do next, Chef Sanji?” Your tone was happy and playful with a hint of flirtation.

“Ideally I’d love for you to just sit here and look gorgeous while I serve you, but since you insist on helping you can go ahead and slice some strawberries and make the whipped filling for the crêpes if you don’t mind.” He said as he began making the batter, then fired up the stove with an audible click of gas before flame started to lick the bottom of the pan and warm it until it was hot enough to make the layers of batter he poured into it make beautifully browned thin crêpes ready for the filling—more than plenty enough for just you.

You had finished slicing the strawberries into a neat bowl and were in the process of whipping the heavy cream and cream cheese with the sugar and vanilla when Sanji came up behind you to check on your progress, placing a hand innocently on your hip and letting his chin rest on your shoulder. The close contact made you freeze for a moment before relaxing against him and enjoying it for as long as it would last instead. “I’m almost done too! But it would be a shame to have to eat all of this by myself... Won’t you share them with me, Sanji?” You asked while running your finger along the edge of the bowl to collect the excess fluffy cream on your index finger, bringing it to your mouth for a taste. “Mm… Please? You definitely have to taste this.”

Sanji found it too cute to resist your persistence on sharing your special meal together, so he didn’t say no. In fact, he was definitely tempted to have a taste for himself—just not entirely what you were thinking. “Don’t mind if I do, my angel.” He said with a smirk as he gently turned your chin to have you look at him, leaning in to steal a quick kiss to taste the sweet cream lingering there from your own stolen taste of it. “Just the right amount of sweetness.”

At that moment you were certain that if anyone looked up ‘flustered’ in a dictionary it would surely have a photograph of you as its subject. Your cheeks burned hot, lips parted in shock and you almost thought you imagined it when he let go of you and took the bowl of sweet cream to begin filling the crêpes like nothing had just happened. Given the setting you didn’t want to question it, figuring you’d get a chance to ask about it later.

After everything was dished up onto two plates he grabbed a fork and cut off a reasonably sized piece, lifting it to your lips with an expectant expression. “Now it’s time for the ‘look gorgeous while I serve you’ portion of our morning.” Sanji said quite cheekily and didn’t relent until you gave in and ate from the dainty metal fork obediently. “That’s a good girl. There’s no better compliment you could give me than just seeing you enjoy the food we’ve made together, sweetheart.”

It almost made you choke hearing him call you that, but you attributed it to his tendency to use terms of endearment with you and tried to focus on the taste of the food in your mouth instead. It was by all means perfect just like he said it would be. Sweet but not too sweet with the buttery crêpe and freshness from the strawberries, but you had to admit that it paled in comparison to the sweet kiss he had stolen from you just a few moments ago. In the cheesiest way possible, that had been enough to satisfy your craving; not that you would say that and ruin how happy he looked when you took another piece that was offered to you without fuss and then another until it was gone. You’d eat whatever he offered without question, especially if he kept smiling at you like that.

“So tell me, was it as good as you had hoped it would be?” Sanji asked as he gently dabbed a folded napkin against your lips like you would shatter if he wasn’t careful with you. It almost made him laugh though when you looked a little disappointed, which he deduced was from his use of the napkin instead of a suave smooch, but he rationalized that the morning wasn’t quite over yet until you’d stepped on the boat to leave; and he had his own clever little agenda at play. If another kiss was what you were after, you were sure to get it and more as long as you just said yes to a separate question he had for you.

You immediately nodded but cleared your throat so you could contribute more than that—he certainly deserved praise for even bringing you back and cooking for you in the first place. “It was amazing Sanji, I definitely wouldn’t mind coming back and paying for a meal next time, especially if you’ll be the one cooking it for me… How can I repay you?”

“There is really no need for you to repay me for any of this sweetheart. I only request that you’ll allow me to accompany you back to your boat again? I’ve really come to like our time together you know, so I hope you don’t mind.” He said with another jello leg inducing smile that only allowed you to profusely agree, suddenly regretting eating the crêpe so quickly upon realizing it meant it was getting around the time to head out so he could get back to work.

However, all good things eventually had to come to an end so you reluctantly nodded and allowed him to escort you back to your ship. Once you got there he handed you a container with the leftover crêpes under the promise that you’d give it to your father as a thanks for not minding you staying out a bit later.

“Are you sure I can take this…? Aren’t you hungry? You didn’t eat any of it at all, just fed me…” You said with a concerned pout that only made him smile at your sweet consideration of him. “I just feel bad—”

Sanji gently pressed a finger to your lips with an amused shake of his head. “If you’re so worried about me eating something, why don’t you come back later tonight and we can have dinner together when I get off, my angel? If your father doesn’t mind letting you run off again that is.” He said with a smirk as he removed his finger from your lips in favor of caressing your cheek. “We’ll have a proper date, if that’s something you would like y/n.”

You subconsciously leaned into his touch and nodded, knowing that if anything your father would be annoyingly supportive and take the chance to remind you that you had once been practically quaking in your boots about even going to the Baratie once upon a time and now you couldn’t get enough, wanting to go of your own free will to see one of those pirates you had been so afraid of.

“I would love that, Sanji. I’ll be here, I promise.”

After that Sanji didn’t hesitate to cup your face with both of his hands and lean in to press one more kiss to your lips and then another, letting his lips linger against yours instead of pulling away right away since there weren’t a bunch of eyes on the two of you out here. It only made you even more certain that you would face whatever teasing you had to so you could make it back here tonight for a chance at receiving more of his addictive affections.

He eventually pulled away from the kiss and rested his forehead against yours with a soft sigh, pulling you into a tight warm embrace before he had to send you away like he didn’t even want to let you go. “I’ll see you tonight then, my sweet angel.”

All content unless otherwise stated belongs to: ©HauntedHeartHowl, previously HowlTheSanjiSimp. Please do not: copy, modify, translate, feed my fan fictions to AI, repost or promote my writing or graphics on other platforms. Please DO feel free to comment, reblog or follow <3

#Loverboy Sanji Collab Event #hauntedhearthowl #sanji vinsmoke x reader #sanji vinsmoke x y/n #sanji one piece #sanji fluff #one piece fluff #one piece fanfiction #one piece x y/n #one piece x female reader #|#| 𝐊𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐤𝐨’𝐬 𝐅𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟𝐲 𝐅𝐢𝐜𝐬

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vamqyr3 · 1 year

Text

↳ SIMON “GHOST” RILEY // DO YOU KNOW THAT? 𐚱

CW// ANGST, YELLING, HES NOT A GOOD BF, ARGUING, CRYING, GN!READER, ECT.

NOTES// shout out to Eric by Mitski for summing up the entire fic

His name is fitting. Ghost, The Ghost, untouchable, phlegmatic, glacial and dead. You’re dating the outline of a man. Rubbing elbows with half committed looks, restraining touches, you’re kissing the back that turns to you.

You’re in love with the man that buzzed your phone pleasing sympathy, begging mercy, asking for your love. In love with the way he shadows your moves, watching over you from room to room. With the man who helps you unstick lids, who opens doors and changes lightbulbs.

But The Ghost is illusive, he’s still somewhere back in Manchester, England, screaming for change bolted to a child’s mattress. That’s where he goes with every step father from a bullet casing. He’ll return there every time he bellows out of the house and drives off fresh from an argument.

It’s fine, Simon Riley will come back all the same. But Ghost is no where to be seen under the sheets. You could only hope to date all of that man.

“You didn’t even say anything about the new mugs I got for us, did you see them?”

“I told you I didn’t, I’ve been busy,”

Whatever came next died on your tongue. You could only hope to say, ‘Sorry, no Si’ I forgot.’ ‘You didn’t do that at all, you’re too busy.’ ‘You’re always busy.’

Simon Riley is, he is ever working, forever strained, eternally choked. Which is exactly why you sucked it up, untwisted your lashes and smoothed the ditches in your forehead. It’s a mug either way, just be patient with him.

And you’ll always be, you’ll play nice. You would choke down insecurity, regret, your needs, wants, ambitions and put them all together to mold a new man. He asked you as much, hoped you would hear him out in sincerity as he asked for your love. Wished you would return his hesitance with kindness, rigidity with sandpaper to buff out the deformities in the uncharted waters of commitment still newfound to him. You would do as much, as long as he loved you, gladly, you would do as much.

But as he smelt of frustration, looking everywhere but at you, blanched In the adrenaline of your most resent dispute; You were reminded once again of the carcass you bedded as he reversed in the driveway.

Every now and again you’ll have to solidify his affection in your eyes. Rationalize that there is in fact love behind his emotionless routine, his left footed dance around you and your relationship. Yet still it never felt like warmth, it felt like a schedule, like you were living with an object and you hated it. It didn’t even matter how far away he was from the house, it still felt dumb to cry. It felt foolish to hold your head about your fingers and cover your eyes, curl back into overcast of chair and sit devoid of noise.

You have no reason to move, you hold your breath and beat down any noise to break this palatable stalemate. There’s no reason to text him to come back, to apologize, go racing to the window and watch the headlights blackout. You don’t do anything. Next time he leaves you’d opt to say, ‘Simon, when you go- I know your angry- but just know, if you leave I can’t promise I’ll still be here.’

You would hope he would stop there, turn back, drop to his knees, kiss your eyes and apologize then and there. Realize all the times he’s made you loose sleep over his temper tantrums. You wish he’d peck at your hands and ask you to stay.

But with every aphonic, dusty stilled moment that passes it’s becomes increasingly difficult to ignore how he is in fact not doing any of that and how he probably never will. So, it’s pointless to cry, it won’t change anything.

You feel sick, there’s air running through your head and wiping clean any sense of autonomy. You’re sleepwalking between the minutes that pass as you remain placid in the chair. It’s a proper mess, whatever you were bickering about is irrelevant, you want Ghost back.

Times unintelligible by now, everything surrounding it white noise, unrecognizable and unimportant. You don’t care to move your numb leg, rub out the ache in your fingers, tend to the fingerprints in your temples. You don’t care hear for the crunch of rock under tire rubber, register the cry of the house door opening. It’s all a feedback loop.

He becomes level with the chair, looking, hoping to meet the eyes that disguise behind your shielding hand. You don’t move, you don’t care. He goes for your arm, shaking you a bit in the movement, no change. His face wrinkles and his head stretches higher, no dice.

“Love,” Still nothing.

“M’ sorry,”

“It’s fine, Simon,”

“Pleas-”

“I said it’s fine, Simon.”

Whatever guilt he held before in seeing you so defeated goes burning up with spark of your last response. He’s backing up and finding his words.

“I just told you m’ sorry, there’s no need for you to have a fuckin’ attitude problem,”

And he’s right, you think. He was angry, but he left without snapping. He needs you to have patience with him, like you have before. You inhale, backing into the chair and rake your hands into your eye sockets. Elbows pointed to ceiling fan, bottom lip chapped and shaking with the rest of your face.

“Shut up, Simon, fuck,”

He’s saying something back out of anger, standing upright looking down and digging into you. You hear it, but you don’t listen. You’re just feeling the strain of his dissatisfaction, the sore aftermath of him ripping you apart. Aching, churning, stretching farther into the back of the cushioned seat, trying horribly to close your eyes tighter and plug out your ears. You’ve forbid crying in front of him for so long, as if it would scare him away, it’s surprising to see you do it now.

“Please, please, please be quiet, please,”

“What the f-”

“I said shut up, Simon-Fuck, how hard is it?”

Your lungs are folding with your body, collapsing under the weight of every emotion you’ve swallowed. Eyebrows meeting over your look of sweat and distress.

“Fuck I just don’t even understand why you come home anymore, you see your work more than me, what am I even here for? decoration?”

“Love,”

“Simon please, I’m so fucking tired of pretending to ignore you, Why?”

It’s his turn to be silent. You spiral.

“Why, Simon, did you date me knowing you can’t even love yourself? I feel like a fucking idiot-shit, why did I agree? What did I ever do to deserve this? What the hell did I do wrong?

“Nothing, you didn’t,”

“Am I not pretty? Is that it? Too loud? What? What, Simon? Why don’t you love me?”

“I do,” he’s back down in the floor again, trying to take your cheek in his hands, “don’t you know that?”

“No, how would I? You’ve never told me it before, you don’t act like it. You don’t hold me you don’t spend time with me, talk to me, look at me, nothing. How would I know?” Your body’s turning away from him, escaping into the backrest, garbling nonsense drowning on salt and snot. “I love you, Simon, but I shouldn’t have dated you.”

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon riley x you #ghost cod #ghost mw2 #simon riley angst #cod ghost #angst #mw2

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miryum · 1 year

Text

Foundling Villa- Chapter 6

Royal!Charles Leclerc x Reader. Princess Y/n is arranged to marry Prince Charles. There will be many ups and downs that the author hasn’t planned out yet, but read along to find out more! (Yes, I know that sounds super cheesy) Warnings per chapter. Hope you guys enjoy!

Tag list: @notleclerc @sunsumonner

Warnings: swearing, open talk of sex, smut (but not in the sweet way you’re thinking of. A better, sweeter smut scene will come later)

ao3 link next chapter>>

“There you go,” Prince Charles mumbled, opening the door to his room. Tucked into the right corner was a large desk in which you could see scrolls of parchment laid out, held down by little figurines. On the left were two doors, one you knew was a bathroom, and the other was partially opened to a massive closet. A third door sat on the right side of the room, angled by a fireplace with a couch and a dark, soft rug. “It leads to your room.” Prince Charles pointed to the door. “They want married couples close by. Though I believe your room will be empty most of the time.”

“What are you implying?” You glared at him, wondering if he meant that you would be spending most nights by his side.

“Your sister told me about a villa.” Prince Charles shut the door and leaned against it.

You peeked back at him, flushing. You didn’t know Prince Charles had found out. But your eye caught something else. “What is that?” you asked, pointing to the wall behind him.

Prince Charles was the one to blush this time, stepping over to join you gazing up at the wall. “It’s you. I thought I should have a painting of my wife.” Indeed, there was a small painting of you in your royal gowns hung on Prince Charles’ wall. It was outlined with an ornate frame. It was one of the few paintings where you were seen smiling. The painter had brought in Ralph to make funny faces at you and joke around to get a genuine smile from you. Clearly, it had worked.

Before you had arrived, a servant had brought in three paintings, one of you in all of your heavy regalia, one with your entire family, and the one that was on the wall now. “I liked your smile,” Prince Charles said.

“Thank you.” You walked over to his desk, ignoring the large bed in the middle of the room. “Really?” You curled an eyebrow up at a list that was laid out. It was a letter written in your sister, Kaitlyn’s, familiar script. “When did you communicate with Kaitlyn?”

“I wrote letters to all of your family members,” Charles said. “I wanted to connect with them.”

Prince Charles, you scanned over the letter.

I’m very pleased, yet surprised to hear from you. I apologise for not being able to come to the wedding. I’m excited to see my little sister get married, especially with the prince of Enza. You asked for my suggestions and input on how to charm Y/n, but there’s little I can say. Y/n is a wonderful, kind, and smart lady with a tough shell. All you need to do is try to crack it. If you wish for brutal honesty, I shall give it. She doesn’t want to marry you. She never wanted an arranged marriage. Y/n wanted to choose her husband through love and hope, not through treaties and flat compromises. At first, she’s going to be phlegmatic and apathetic, and you have to be patient. If you come on too strong or harsh, she will clam up the moment you step into the room. I know it will be hard, particularly with our lineage. We were always handed things on a silver platter, but Y/n will slowly come to you on her own. She is something you can not force.

Think of my sister as a silver fox. She’s whip sharp and elusive. She’ll stake you out for a while, and if she deems you trustworthy, then she will come to you. However, if you try to go to her, she’ll run away, not before biting you.

What am I writing? You could practically hear her giggles. I’m making her sound like a villain. My sister is not a villain. Once you manage to catch the fox, she will stay by you until the ends of the earth and protect you with all her might. Do not let her go. I am putting my trust in you to take care of her. My sister is not one to let her needs be known. Read between the lines, Prince Leclerc, and one day I expect to see you and Y/n make a very happy couple.

Best wishes,

Princess Kaitlyn

You felt a mix of betrayal and pride. Who was your sister to expose you like this? She had no right. Yet it was sweet to hear what she thought of you. Kaitlyn had always been able to worm your secrets out of you, something that made you impossibly close to her. She was an empathic and true soul, so you knew she meant what she wrote.

“I’m trying to take her words to heart,” Prince Charles said. “I want to take this slow. I want to build up a relationship, not just force it upon us. So please, tell me about this villa.”

You sighed and sat down at his desk. Your dress bunched up under you. “I bought a house on the outskirts of Enza. It’s on Williams’ border.” Charles made a noise of acknowledgement. “I was going to move in after tonight.” You cleared your throat, saying, “I didn’t want to be stuck at the palace. I’m going to employ a small staff. It has an expansive field behind it. I’ve already got a stable master. His name is Lando.”

Charles felt a sudden, surprising pang of jealousy towards his man he had never met. You would be spending more time with a stable master than your husband. “Would you be living alone?” Charles asked lowly.

You looked down. “I have yet to decide.”

“Is there anything I can do to urge you in a decision?” Charles felt like a small child, asking for hesitant permission. He had never been as tentative or timorous.

“Yes,” you stood up suddenly. Your heart started pounding and you walked towards your new husband. “Have sex with me.”

“Pardon?” Charles’ face heated up. What were you talking about? Just at the prospect of it, he felt himself twitch to life. He licked his lips and swallowed in order to try and rein in his emotions. He noticed you glance him up and down. “Why?”

“For three reasons,” you stated. “First and foremost, it’s our wedding night and we must consummate the marriage. Second, do you honestly think that the wedding date was picked randomly? Prince Charles, sorry to be so improper, but I was bleeding a couple days ago. They want me to be suitably able and feeling like creating a child.” Charles’ eyes widened and he stared at the ground. “And third, I would like to get it over with.”

“Excuse me? You want to get it over with? What does that mean?”

“Can you please help me?” You turned around and gestured to the back of your dress. “I can’t get it off myself.”

“Um, sure.” Charles paced forward. He started at the very top and unclasped the first button. There was a long line to go; it stopped just below your hips. Charles wanted to curse whoever decided that the more buttons, the better. “Could you explain your wording, please?” he asked quietly, continuing to unbutton your dress. Everytime he popped a new one open, a bit more skin was revealed to him. It was like you were trying to tease him.

“I want to get it over with,” you repeated. “I’m normally not this crass, but I just need you to fuck me and be done. I need to get it out of the way so it’s not this event that looms over me, and I never know when the storm will hit.”

“Do you want to fuck or make love?” Charles clarified. His hands retreated from your back. You tried to struggle out of it, but were trapped by the confining fabric. You huffed and squirmed in the dress.

“Is there a difference?”

“Very much so, yes.” His eyebrows rose. He thought every girl knew the difference. But he knew you had no experience with any of this. For all he knew, this was the first time you had talked openly about sex.

“I want to fuck,” you decided.

“Then I won’t do it.” Charles shook his head and went back to unbuttoning your wedding dress.

Your shoulders slumped. “I understand why you won’t, but why can’t you grant me this one wish? I want to do this so the anxiety and foreboding of it all disappears and I know what to expect. Then, afterwards, maybe I’ll be able to enjoy it.”

“Your first time should be meaningful,” Charles objected. “You should feel a connection with the person; a loving feeling that you both share. A moment of trust.”

“Well, I don’t have any of that with you!” you cried out. Charles stepped back at your outburst. You finally had enough room to shuffle out of your dress. Charles couldn’t help but stare at your back, but managed to look away as you revealed your legs. You kicked off the garb, leaving you in your undergarments which consisted of a corset and stockings. “Oh, damn it! Prince Charles, could you also unlace my corset? I’m assuming that the position of the unattainable ribbons are on purpose.”

Charles exhaled and shrugged off his jacket. He felt severely overdressed compared to you. Now in a loose tunic and pants, coupled with shined buckled shoes, he tried to unravel your corset, silently wondering why women’s clothes were so complicated. “Fine, I will complete our royal duty.”

“And I thank you for that.”

The sex was, in retrospect, uneventful. There was no kissing, no foreplay, and no touching other than what was required. Hell, Prince Charles still had his tunic on. Like you wanted, he was only fucking you. There was no love involved.

You were awed by this new feeling you were experiencing, but knew it could be so much more. It was as if you were a locked door and Prince Charles held the key, but you were forcing him to sit back and watch the door, hoping that it would open without his interference.

Afterwards you were filled with want and the inkling of euphoria, but you would not allow yourself to trust Prince Charles to help you achieve the full feeling. Your legs sore, you fell asleep on the far side of the bed.

Charles stayed awake late into the night, sitting on the couch and staring at the fireplace. Every once in a while, his eyes would flicker to your portrait or to your sleeping figure. He was stunned at the difference. Your painting seemed lively and enthusiastic. He hadn’t seen you smile like that because of him. Charles wondered if he was the reason that you hadn’t smiled. If you were betrothed to a better, kinder prince, would you be smiling for him?

Would you ever smile for him?

#Foundling Villa #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc #charles leclerc one shot #charles leclerc imagine #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #lord perceval #smut #charles leclerc smut #marriage night #monarchy #prince!charles leclerc x reader #prince!charles leclerc

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razrbladekiss · 8 months

Text

Thirty-seven minutes | Tig Trager

A/N: this is just a shitty little angsty one shot, which i put together in like fifteen minutes. it's supposed to be helping me get back into the swing of things with writing, but it isn't! but anyway, here 'ya go!

WORD COUNT: 900 smth

PAIRING: tig trager x fem!reader

WARNINGS: angst, strong language. you're in your cunt era

Thirty-seven minutes ago, malevolence was rippling through your veins, surging through each and every artery like hot, molten lava drifting toward that village at the volcano’s edge.

You were mere seconds from an outburst, almost spattering your last morsel of equanimity when Clay’s pompous snarl reached the drums of your ears and all you saw was red.

Ripping the man limb from fucking limb would’ve been so gratifying, you thought. Causing him that same abundance of grief that he had inflicted upon you, making him hurt, was the one thing you could only wish to happen.

But slivering so deeply into Clay Morrow seemed borderline inconceivable. Because he was formidable, and tough, and you were yet to see him crumble under the wayward burdens bestowed upon him by his club.

Frankly, getting to him was simply impossible. And, if you could strike a chord within that phlegmatic prick, Tig wouldn’t even let you try.

It wasn’t worth it, he guaranteed that seeking revenge for the shit the SAMCRO President did to you—to the man that you love—wasn’t worth thinking about.

Because he might’ve made Tig dive head first into yet another ire-fueled, gun-wielding battle that could’ve ended a hell of a lot more bloody than what it did, but that was a part of this life.

You understood that. You understood what Tig’s life—his line of work—entailed, but it was tough. Coming to terms with it all—every last thing—was painful, and sometimes you wished that Clay didn’t depend on him so much.

But he did. And there was nothing that you could’ve done to change that, or put a stop to it. So you got along with it.

You got along with it until you couldn’t.

Ten minutes ago your face was reddening, rage dripping from every pore as you became privy to the events of the day. Eagerly—desperately—you awaited an explanation.

An explanation that never came.

An explanation that you needed, but one that you never got. And, for that, you were irrationally angry.

“I just hate that he’s got you wrapped around his little finger, Tig! It’s gonna get you seriously hurt one day!” You expressed your repugnance, stamping into the clubhouse.

Tig was hot on your heels.

“I’m sick of finding out through Jax, or Juice, that Clay has put you into yet another situation that you might not find your way out of—“

“Baby—“

“No! Don’t baby me, Alexander.” Pissed, you threw back at him as you stopped dead at the front door. “You’re not getting out of this by sweet-talking, or fucking me, like you always do.”

Being an authoritative figure suited you, he thought. Being put in his place by you was so sexy, he thought.

But you had also yelled at him—“humiliated” him—right in front of his club, and he was irked at your boldness.

The boldness that he lauded, of course, but the boldness that no old lady should’ve conveyed before the Sons Of Anarchy.

Because old ladies were supposed to be submissive. They were supposed to take orders, know their place, and abide by the rules set in place by the club.

That wasn’t your thing, however.

“I—I can’t take this anymore.” Frustrated, you retorted. “This fucking club—“

“Hey!” Tig yelled, pointing at you.

This unbending—frightening—look washed over his face, and for the first time ever, you felt yourself tremble underneath his gaze.

“Don’t talk shit about this fucking club!”

Your heart was pounding.

“I’m serious!” He barked, cornering you.

Tig was intimidating, everybody and their fucking dog knew that. Everybody knew what he did, or what he had the capability of doing.

But you weren’t scared of him.

Not anymore.

You puffed out your chest a little, refusing to be backed up against the wall. You walked a little closer to him. Two noses almost brushed against one another.

“And so am I.” You said, biting back tears. “I am so fucking serious about this—“

“About what?!” Tig was yelling again now.

He was so short tempered. But never with you.

Sucking in a deep breath, you began by saying “about how this club—more like fucking cult—is ruining our relationship that we have been trying so hard to rebuild!”

It was like a weight lifted, but it maimed him.

Because you hadn’t known Tig before the Sons, nor would you ever know that version of him. But he thought that you enjoyed him being part of such a tight brotherhood, a ready made family that supported the pair of you, not just him.

And there were benefits to Samcrow, there always were. But Tara had told you what it was like getting involved with them, and you chose to ignore the warning.

Until now.

“It’s like everything you do revolves around the club.” You say, as if it’s not the most obvious thing in the world. You take a step toward Tig, making him take a step backwards.

Fists clenched.

“We had something good, Tig. We really had a beautiful thing. But the Sons Of Anarchy have brainwashed you into thinking that, if you’re not here twenty four hours a fucking day, that some shit will happen and the club will crumble.”

He rolled his jaw.

“I promise you, nothing bad will happen if you take a day to spend time with your old lady—y’know, the woman you married.”

“You spend too much time with Tara—“

“And that’s such a bad thing?!” You hurled his way. “I spend my days in this shithole! I have no other fucking friends aside from the club and their wives, and it sucks! And now you’re mad at me for spending time with the only female in this gang that I can tolerate?!”

“Not a gang!”

“Oh, fuck off!” You stomp toward the front door, leaving a bitter taste in the mouth of your husband.

Tig couldn’t wrangle his composure. He couldn’t bring himself to go after you as your heels clicked along the uneven concrete, and you mithered to yourself about how worthless he was.

He didn’t care.

He couldn’t find a reason to care.

You disrespected his club, so he threw away the vows that he made to you.

Only temporarily, of course.

Because in thirty-seven minutes, he’ll be at your knees begging for forgiveness.

#tig trager #tig trager x reader #tig trager x you #sons of anarchy #sons of anarchy fic #sons of anarchy fandom #tig trager fanfiction #tig trager fic #sons of anarchy imagines

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myemuisemo · 15 days

Text

In both #3 and #4 of the Letters from Watson for The SIgn of the Four, Watson loses his mind and babbles when he's trying to have a conversation in the presence of Mary Morstan, and I'm here for it.

For the rest of these two letters, especially #4, I feel like I've stumbled into a story by Edgar Allen Poe or Wilkie Collins. Mr. Thaddeus Sholto feels like exactly what would happen if a colorful Wilkie Collins character -- say, the terrifyingly affable, rotund Count Fosco from The Woman in White -- stumbled into Holmes' world of deduction and logic.

Thaddeus Sholto had me digging for physiognomy texts, as that protruding lower lip feels like a detail meant to say something specific in an era that took "facial composition as a sign of character" very seriously.

The Pocket Lavatar (1817) gives us one possible interpretation:

When the lower lip projects beyond the upper, it denotes negative goodness.

Also, relevant to Sholto's watery blue eyes:

Blue eyes are frequently found in persons of phlegmatic character; they are often indications of feebleness and effeminacy.

Physiognomy and phrenology both had multiple rounds of being in fashion in the 19th century, with different gurus disagreeing on what exactly your nose or the shape of your skull meant. The whole field is, of course, wildly racist, with a garnish of ableism and a drizzle of classism. It was also a fairly familiar vocabulary to contemporary readers.

Meanwhile, I feel like every reference to Thaddeus Sholto's snobby little habits is meant to make the reader chuckle at his pretentiousness and poor taste, but I can't prove it.

Since the premise of this story seems to require acting as if plundering India for gems and wealth is okay, my hackles went up at referring to Major Sholto's long-time Indian servant as Chowdar. Turns out this was a common transliteration of a name we'd now render more like Chaudhuri.

(Major Sholto had had malaria, by the way, as evidenced from the quinine bottle present when he received his startling letter. It's likely that malaria contributed to his fragile health.)

Major Sholto's relationship with his manservant Lal Chowdar is solid enough that they hide a body together, but I have to raise an eyebrow at the major's naivete.

If my own servant could not believe my innocence, how could I hope to make it good before twelve foolish tradesmen in a jury-box?

His own servant saw how he behaved in India and probably has an accurate view of his ethics. That he'd kill out of greed happens to be wrong in this case (assuming a reliable narrator, which is a big assumption).

A face was looking in at us out of the darkness. We could see the whitening of the nose where it was pressed against the glass. It was a bearded, hairy face, with wild cruel eyes and an expression of concentrated malevolence.

My bet was "monkey," but then the Sholtos found boot prints, so either it's a monkey that wears shoes, or it's a man. Oh well.

My hackles weren't up about taking Miss Morstan's mysterious pearls from a "chaplet," but they should have been. I blush to admit that I was envisioning some sort of tiara -- but I googled before making a fool of myself and discovered that a chaplet is prayer beads. It's like a rosary, but not all chaplets are rosaries, and not all rosaries are chaplets. Is this an Anglican chaplet made from stolen gems, or were Sholto, Morstan, and their friends straight-up stealing prayer beads of another culture?

Honestly, I'm up for the Sholtos being actively cursed, but since Holmes is a rationalist, I'm also up for the more plausible outcome of their actions having brought mundane vengeance down upon their heads.

#letters from watson #sherlock holmes #the sign of the four

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inanisomnia · 1 year

Note

Hiiiii

Can you do some headcanon chishiya x reader where reader looks really arrogant but in reality is soft and shy?

Thank youuu!!!

lay me gently.

fem! reader x chishiya shuntaro

warning/s: mild profanities, slightly ooc! chishiya, mentions of ... (idk what's the term, someone tell me pls) forceful interactions... ??? WTF

ins.note: i'm currently reading tshoe (the seven husbands of evelyn hugo) that's why im not really active here in tumblr again... but no worries since i alr laid out the plot for entropy of chaos tot i'll upload it soon hehe

also if u enjoyed reading this, kindly let me know by liking or reblogging this post ^^ (only do it if its okay with u <3 ) ily all !!

- okay this is kinda tough but imma try

- we all know how deadly, and dangerous each game is in borderland and that's the beauty of this place – it brings out the human and true motives of each individuals ;

- and chishiya shuntaro, like the observant man he is, noticed you leaning on the beach's columns on the side, your left hand gripping your right elbow – away from all the jumping, drunk, wasted people on the dancefloor.

- you have a phlegmatic expression painted on your face, eyes lazily scanning each people up and down then switching to another individual then scoffing.

- someone randomly approached you, and he instantly recognized its someone that you're not close to since ever since you joined the beach, you never seem to approach anybody, seemingly annoyed at everyone's company.

- surprised, you looked at him up and down, eyebrows knitted together in ... is it confusion or irritation ? he can't seem to decipher what it is.

- you shook your head, and crossed your arms, and straightened your posture, away from him, signifying that you're not interested in whatever the man was saying to you.

- chishiya analyzed you closely ; you strike him as someone arrogant, and boastful – someone who's hyper independent, a woman who is a know-it-all when he first saw you at the beach.

- but are you, really ?

- the man paced a little closer to you, his drunken state visibly irking you as you step back the moment he got closer to you.

- you walked away from the man, eyebrows furrowed in annoyance, but you were grabbed by the wrist.

- chishiya didn't know what took over him, but he just suddenly picked up his pace towards you and wrapped his arms on your shoulder.

- "what seems to be the problem here, princess?" (but ofc in nihongo ++ with his hoarse, alluring voice, faints)

- you seem taken aback but you went along with it, "im sleepy. lets go?"

- wow

- just wow. chishiya was shocked by how your voice sounded so mellow, so soft, so tender - a complete contrast to his husky and gravelly voice.

- upon reaching a desolated hallway, he lets go of you. you thanked him and asked him how could you repay him, but he dismissed it by shaking his head.

- you smiled.

- and bid your goodbye.

- well damn. you were nothing what chishiya has thought.

- you have a tremendously soothing voice, the one that's not overly forced to sound like that, but naturally.

- ever since your encounter with each other, chishiya kept tabs on you every now and then, trying to make sure if you're okay and unhurt – from the games and the people here at the beach.

- sometimes he would go up to you to casually mention tips on how to win games in his own way. he would notice how surprised you would be when someone goes up to you unannounced, and how baffled and quiet you would be when someone tries to strike up a conversation with you.

- but with him, you seem to relax a little, and chishiya doesn't know why he's bothering to befriend you, he doesn't need anyone who'll weigh him down on his plan.

- but you're an exception, plus you're not a burden. you're intriguing and reliable, cunning, yet reserved.

- after a while, you seem to open up to chishiya, and god, he doesn't realize it yet, but he's falling for you, bit by bit. you were far from what he expected of you.

- he adores watching you analyze the world before you, he loves how tender your touch was on his skin, he adores your soft smile, the sound of your laugh.

- little did he know that he was abstractedly memorizing your features - the creases in your eyes whenever you laugh, smile, how your eyes sparkle -

- a part of him unconsciously swore that he'll protect you, and soothe you on all your anxiety-ridden days, hours, just as how you pacify all his inner demons that he himself couldn't understand.

- he just wished that he met you before waking up in this hell.

#alice in borderland #chishiya shuntaro x reader #chishiya headcanons #chishiya x reader #chishiya alice in borderland #chishiya x fem!reader #aib chishiya #aib s2 #chishiya my beloved #chishiya shuntaro #chishiya imagine #hozier #work song hozier #spotify

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accihoe · 2 years

Text

Arranged Marriage Pt 2

I am in a state utter turmoil. The news of the queen is drastically devastating. So I've decided to "slapdash" part two. The queen means a great deal to me- to all of us I'm sure. This is but a small commemoration to her. Rest in peace, your Majesty.

♔♔♔♔

Draco x fem!reader angst to fluff

Summary: Draco lashed out at his wife and now is trying his best to make amends.

Warnings: jealous Draco. Angst. Cussing. Y/N being slightly cosy around Theodore and Blaise. Not proofread.

The only night Draco Lucius Malfoy regretted his actions happened only a few hours prior. Needless to say, Draco was appalled. He stopped seeing his ex- and his wife, but the latter was not by choice. Y/N no longer bothered to come home early from work to do Draco’s laundry, greet him at the door, or cook for him. She no longer woke up early to make him breakfast or lunch. She no longer sent him a treat to his office every Friday. She didn’t even let him sleep in their bedroom anymore. Y/N was a kind woman, so she would greet him when they crossed paths, but that’s it.

Soon Draco found his laundry piling up in his bedroom, and he found himself longing for her homecooked meals (the sandwiches from The Three Broomsticks just weren’t cutting it anymore). And foremost, he found himself longing for her company. Her honey-sweet voice, her tender and warm presence, her loving gaze- which has now turned to his cold and menacing glare. Draco regretted his actions and words deeply. He was reminded of them invariably. Whether he be at lunch with the silly toasted sandwich or asleep at night. His dreams were haunted by images of her, in the arms of another man.

As more time went by Draco noticed more changes in her behaviour. For several weeks after his verbal assail Y/N would completely ignore his presence with a phlegmatic expression. However of late she had been coming home later, the previous emanation's emotions long gone. Sometimes she'd even have a smile on her face. Or be polite enough to cook him dinner- but oh how wrong he was. She was in fact not cooking for him.

When Draco entered the room that afternoon, almost staggered into the Bone China vase behind him at the sight of his beautiful madame home before him- pretty sundress wrapped around her figure, apron secure around her pretty body and dress as she made food. Having almost a "six sense" (more of a motherly instinct) Y/N sensed Draco's presence despite not having heard him come in. "Theodore and Blaise are coming over this evening. Go tidy yourself up and help me downstairs when you're done.

Too stunned to speak Draco nodded, more to himself, as he climed up the stairs and went to freshen up in the guest bedroom- his current place of residence. "Theodore and Blaise? What in Merlin's name would they be doing here?" Draco wracked his brain for any scheduled meeting with his colleagues. None that he could think of. "You took so long that I've managed to everything by myself." Y/N stated as she removed the apron from around herself. Draco stared at her in amazement- flabbergasted that he did not notice her beauty beforehand.

"What is going on with you today? You're acting extremely anomalous." Y/N asked as she crossed the room and stood by him. Just as Draco opened his mouth to speak the doorbell rang. "You obnoxious so-" Draco started but got cut short by his wife. "You are not about to insult our bloody doorbell Draco. Now, you must be pleasant at all times tonight. One scew move from you and you're into the dungeons. Understood?" Y/N stated firmly. "Understood." Draco grumbled as his wife made her way to the door.

The evening went on rather smoothly- aside from Draco's divaricating jealousy. To argue Draco's point Y/N had been a little too cosy with her guests, like touching their arms, winking at them, being over friendly- but all only to give Draco a taste of his own medicine. Which worked to a certain extent. Draco felt the emotional turmoil. He felt the hurt and jealousy. He felt to embarrassment. But at what cost? Y/N could almost visualise the heartbreak in his eyes. As his wife she picked up the slight tremor in his voice when he spoke. She noticed his hands twitching underneath the table.

Y/N surprised them both by sliding her hand into his and intertwining her fingers with his. "And I think that concludes our statement for Witch Weekly, Y/N." Theodore stated- snapping Draco and Y/N from their trance. "You work for Witch Weekly?" Draco asked. He had never felt more deceived than now in his entire life. "You know that you dunce." Y/N stated with a playful smile as she flicked his forehead gently.

Theodore and Blaise left sooner than Draco's busy mind processed. After half an hour of silently helping Y/N to tidy up Draco had conducted and concluded his speech of apology. Just as Y/N set foot onto the first step of the staircase grabbed her wrist. "I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me a few weeks ago. But I feel like I've gone insane without you. My mind races permanently when you're not here. I struggle to think at work. And- I'm going off topic now. But my point is Y/N that I'm terribly sorry for what I said. I've stopped seeing her-" Draco felt Y/N tense at his sentence "and just to clear something I haven't been seeing her in any intimate way. She tried. But I rejected her. I swear. Use Veritaserum on me if you please. But I am so incredibly sorry Y/N." Draco finished his rant.

Y/N sighed as she looked at his hand on her skin- Draco dropping it instantly when he realised. Signing again Y/N took his cool hands into her warm ones, "Come sleep in the master bedroom tonight. I think I've isolated myself enough from you now.". Before Draco could process her words she was upstairs. Later in bed with her Draco was hardly able to contain his excitement- until his thoughts got the best of him again. "Y/N?" Draco asked, fumbling with his hands underneath the covers.

Y/N put her book aside and looked at Draco "Yes Draco?". "Do you really work for Witch Weekly?" He asked, almost nervous for what her response might be. "Yes Draco, I do. I started working there a month ago." She said. "Congratulations..." Said Draco as his mind worked. "You aren't cheating on me are you?" Draco said thinking back to her behaviour with Blaise and Theodore- voice small and hoarse. Y/N let out a chuckle. "Sweetheart of course not. I'm many things but a cheater is not on that list." She said as she took his hand into hers.

Draco's eyes welled up and he looked away in embarrassment. Y/N surprised him once again by pulling him onto her and laying them down as she ran her hands through his hair- soothing his scalp and his worries. "I'm so sorry for what I put you through. You're not a word of what I said. You're the opposite. You're stunning and kind and beautiful and amazing. You're such utter perfection Y/N and I was too blinded by rage to see it." Draco truthfully apologised. "I want to give our marriage another chance at working again." Said Draco.

Hearing that was all the confirmation she needed. Smiling, Y/N answered "I'd love nothing more."

♔♔♔♔

Fin

I'm still in utter shock, but I hope you liked this.

Some of the tags don't work I apologise for the inconvenience please share this with them if you're mutuals.

Thank you so much for all the support! Over 600 notes!!

Dunno how to respond to multiple asks with one post so here's screenshots if you're the anon here it is!:

@hhesperidess @yournightmare-1987 @maylaysia109 @pockeymcmockey @budugu @sil-ver-shadow @amaliarosewood @gigihasenterthechat @mrsmalfoy1005 @venyan @theladylustrous @kmdg420 @cosmiclattea @marplest @imhereforagoodtimeandalongtime69 @abrunettefangirlnerd @kalpal-03 @kjhbsies @dracoswife85 @i-dont-even-carey-blog @clintsupremacy @teenyvee @daphgreen444 @marliepocket16 @browsingforfunperi @louyoursins @venomsvl @priyesstuff @crazylokonugget @jay-simp @ech0-in-the-f0rest @hadthemapplebottomjeans @maddyriddle14 @b-bewley1979 @sassybasketballfireplaid

#queen elizant ii #draco malfoy #draco fanfiction #draco x reader #draco angst #draco fluff

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myloveforfanfictonisendless · 9 months

Text

Ok this just came into my mind.... I have read a lot of stories where the reader is the verbal person in affection and optimus is more of a taciturn but still shows fondness for the reader.

How about High school or teacher (can't pick) human optimus x reader where optimus despite being the popular guy , have a timorous personality when it comes to you and have become quite a bit of a stalker (not yandere)of the you after one certain encounter. And now you are suddenly found yourself to be doted by the prime himself in secret.

Enjoy!!❤️

Human Optimus x reader

So as you are engaged in her extra curricular activities alone after school Optimus is peeking from far discreetly, just to get a glimpse of you.

As you are oblivious about your stalker's stares, Optimus keeps observing intensely at your every steps. Everything about you is making him have a stomach full of butterflies.

He thought he has become phlegmatic enough to not act like his past timid self. He is fine with everyone else just when it comes to you his confidence always ebbs away. Your eyes, your smile, everything about you is just so endearing to him. He can pass with flying colours if its about a full presentation above your bubbly personality and joyful spirit.

It's not like he isn't consciously abashed about peeking at you like this. He doesn't wish for his behaviour to come forward as ungentlemanly refined like this.

But he is hopeless.

How can he approach you? Strike a conversation without making fun of himself. That's all his mind can think of when he sees you. His brain always freezes in fear. How much he wishes that he gets the bare minimum confidence to just utter a single sentence in front of you without babbling or rambling or stuttering.

Just once will be enough for his poor soul.

Suddenly a voice breaths, just near his ear in a hussed tone.

"If she finds you like this, your reputation as her stalker will kill that 1% chance you are thinking of having with her dear friend

ohh and did I mention that it can ternish your current prestigious reputation in seconds as well, I hope you are ready "

Megatron's gravelly voice makes him flinch and snaps his head towards the direction with wide eyes.

"Megatron!" Optimus gasps softly but briskly calm himself to not let the anyone catch their presence.

"What are you doing here?" Scowling at his friend Optimus mouths each word, still keeping in mind to be incognito. On the other hand Megatron, biting his lips in an attempt to suppress his enjoyment , titters. He knows quite well what his beloved friend is doing but what triggered his amusement is he can see how his friend is not quite pleased with being caught red handed like this.

"everyone is asking for you, in the council room. We are supposed to have a meeting right now" he whispers back. Despite the enjoyment he knows better as to not get caught or else they both would be required to clarify what they were doing. On that if they babbled and couldn't come up with something solid it would not take long to manifest unrequited rumours about the two council leaders peeking around to see a student after school like perverts.

They both quickly take thier leave.

As they both march their way out of that location, they let go of their breath as now they can talk more openly without any huss huss.

"So, our prime has a crush on someone" Megatron can't help himself but to tease optimus.

"Ohh shut up! Please" optimus chides as they keep walking through the hallways. The mortification of being caught like that is settling in prime's brain, making him bashful. He knows he will be ridiculed by Megatron for at least a week

As right now it is making Megatron cackle with laughter.

"prime has a crush...prime has a crush ~~whom he goes to stalk as he is too much of a chicken to ask out~~~" Megatron starts to coral a bit louder much to prime's protest to keep it down and in between them.

Ohh how much Megatron wishes that he can tell his dear friend that everyone in the team is already aware and just waiting for the opportunity to mingle their single prime.

But for now he will just be entertained by Optimus's flustered face. It can now be easily compared with freshly ripe tomatoes as optimus rolls his eyes at an annoyance at Megatron.

Bonus:

Megatron: *smirks* if you don't do anything soon I may take my chances with her as well. I must admit she is quite a looker.

Optimus: *worried* you won't!?don't you dare?! *Growls*

@cyberrose2001 @techni-cal-writing @tfp-enthusiast @robot-horde @robotsaremymuse

Megatron: can't keep a promise that I will break prime...so get your shit together before someone else will woosh her right in front of your eyes. *Grins and walks ahead*

So as I can't pick up which optimus to continue this story

I want you to pick

#transformers #optimus prime #tfp optimus prime #tfp #optimus x reader #transformers prime #tfp megatron #highschool love #tfp optimus x reader #optimus prime x reader #optimus is in love #couldn't resist #now i can sleep #hope you enjoy

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jeannereames · 4 months

Note

How do you anticipate Alexandros’s and Hephaistion’s respective ways of dealing with each other in their “moments” to change over the course of your series? I think you pretty clearly established in your books that Hephaistion has to learn to carefully navigate Alexandros’s outbursts and spontaneous tendencies.

On the flip side, I wonder how Alexandros learns how to deal when Hep is angry or upset. Do you think it being more so along the lines of him expecting Hep to suck it up and deal, basically? Or would he take a different route? I just find the way you portrayed their dynamic in the series very intriguing and nuanced, and I'm curious to see how it might evolve as the characters age.

What an interesting question! And I’m delighted that you thought their interaction properly nuanced. One of my own personal criteria for judging a book is the presence of layered and complex characters, so I struggle to put them on the page in my own work. (Also, sorry for the delay.)

Among the key elements of the first two books is how much the characters change. It covers seven critical years as they turn from boys into young men. Hence the whole “coming-of-age” thing. Ha.

Because they’re teenagers, they’re inclined to drama, especially in the first book where little things can set them off—but it happens early in book II as well. Hephaistion flails and causes a scene just because Alexandros is busy so often and he, Hephaistion, is insecure. His behavior is silly (and Alexandros calls him on it), but the emotions that drive it are very real. That’s always the struggle, when writing teens. They just haven’t lived long enough for much perspective, so everything’s a crisis. Emotions are BIG, driven by wildly pumping hormones and all those extra neurons in the front of the cerebrum. Yet the author must take seriously whatever tempest in a teapot has them riled up, in order to portray it fairly (for them), even while keeping a bit of distance to signal to the reader that yes, it really is overblown.

By the duology’s end, Alexandros has just turned 20 and Hephaistion 22½; they’ve been friends seven years, and lovers for five. By now, they have history. Yet both are emotional people, even if they display it differently. Hephaistion might seem phlegmatic but is far from it. Erigyios is phlegmatic. Hephaistion is a churning volcano under a calm surface. Alexandros, by contrast, wears his heart on his sleeve. So, they’ll continue to kick up dusk occasionally with each other, but increasingly for real reasons, not manufactured ones driven by insecurity.

Take their fracture over the fact Alexandros didn’t tell Hephaistion about Amyntor’s illness. They learn, thereby, that some things can be forgiven only by a choice. Hephaistion’s flouncing over Alexandros “ignoring” him at the beginning of book 2 should be seen in stark contrast to the very real rage he feels when he learns Alexandros concealed his father’s cancer. Yes, Alexandros did so because Amyntor asked, and yes, Alexandros convinced himself it was out of fear for Hephaistion’s safety. But he does finally recognize, and admit to himself, that wasn’t the real reason. He did a truly selfish thing by keeping Hephaistion with him. Hephaistion’s reaction in each instance is meant to bookend the novel. In the first case, he storms back home. In the second, despite his fury, he doesn’t leave Alexandros. And Alexandros accepts Philip’s pardon not just because he knows he’d better, but also because Hephaistion needs to go back. It’s a maturing moment for Alexandros to fully recognize how much he hurt his friend. He can’t fix it. He can only beg for forgiveness. Hephaistion won’t get back those final months with Amyntor. He can only choose to forgive.

So, the sequence is (to my mind) incredibly important to how they’re learning to be Real with each other. And it lays out how they’ll continue to interact going forward.

Alexandros will still screw up sometimes, in part because he’s king and was raised to assume people will subject themselves to him, as well as because his successes convince him the gods are on his side. But it was always Hephaistion’s refusal to kowtow that made him attractive to Alexandros. Ergo, he must make room for that in their relationship. It’s what makes Hephaistion unique.

In book one, after their physical fight over a different dust-up, Alexandros thinks to himself that the fact Hephaistion was willing to hit a prince had earned him the right to hold one. Alexandros must allow for Hephaistion’s autonomy, which means he must apologize (honestly) now and then. It’s what keeps him human, and grounded. And why Hephaistion continues to enjoy such absolute trust. He expects Alexandros to acknowledge when he screws up, and so Alexandros can trust that Hephaistion will always tell him the truth. Because Hephaistion loves him that much.

#asks #Alexander the Great #Hephaistion #Hephaestion #Dancing with the Lion #DwtL #alexander x hephaestion #Alexander x hephaistion #writing complex characters #historical fiction #ancient Greek historical fiction #Classics

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emptyheadwriting · 1 year

Text

Nurture

Wednesday Addams x Reader

Warnings: N/A

Word Count: 836

Wednesday Addams did many things without thinking of consequences, when she had a goal in mind she tunneled her vision solely on it. The raven haired girl could careless about emotional distress caused by her choices, due to the fact that she had her own emotions in check, it was considering how little of them she felt.

It was a wonder that the two of you had gotten intertwined, you were “gifted” with empathy, cursed to feel everyone’s emotions around you tenfold, it was enough to drive you to tears most nights if you didn’t hide away from the constant stream of emotions that floated around the school grounds.

You as opposed to Wednesday, were forced to tread carefully, doing your best to navigate responses to what people wanted to hear if you couldn’t handle the negative downpour you sensed would come from what you really wanted to say.

The emotional blankness that rolled off the pale girls aura is what made you keep close to her at all times.

She acted as your protector unknowingly, and at first unwillingly, constantly casting glares your way when you would plant yourself next to her at every opportunity. It was only when you explained that you appreciated her phlegmatic nature, and that it kept you grounded did you feel an emotion roll off her.

A small wave, one that just barely reaches the shore rolled into your senses, your make-shift compliment had created a sense of pride in herself.

From then on out she sought you out as well, that whisper of pride seeping out each time she watched your shoulders relax and a little more shine fill your eyes, though she never would admit to doing it for her own pleasure.

On a really bad day you pushed the boundaries, sitting next to her, close enough that your thighs were pushed together.

Neither of you said a thing, and the nonverbal agreement was sealed. Physical contact was an option if you sought it.

As adventurous as you felt when you had first pushed your thigh against hers it was her who took the next step.

You were sat with your back against the trunk of a shade tree, eyes closed a pair of emerald orbs in each hand rotating within your palms concentrated on expelling the emotions of the day when you felt someone standing over you.

Upon opening your eyes met dark brown orbs looking down at you with a new emotion rolling off of her figure, this one was stronger.

Uncertainty rolled off of the girl you believed never took an action she was unsure of.

You gently placed a pair of your orbs into your lap, and gestured to the ground next you.

Wednesday sat wordlessly, making sure your sides were completely attached before she quickly grabbed your hand in hers, fingers intertwining as if a key were to enter a lock.

You turned to her and watched as her shoulders just slightly relaxed a minuscule movement one wouldn’t notice if they did not spend so much time with the girl, she remained facing forward before she spoke,

“You have awoken emotions in me that no one else has, this I am sure you know considering you feel all emotions, I am not sure how to act upon some of them, taking your hand in mine was as difficult of an action as listening to Enid’s endless stream of babble yet much more enjoyable” her voice as steady and stoic as ever as she turned to look at you,

“I would like to explore these new emotions with you as no matter how hard I try to bury them and ignore their growth, Enid says they will not go away and that I must reap what I have sown with you, you must be aware that you will be making a mistake if you do allow this thing between us to grow as I may only go on to hurt you.” She said as she turned away awaiting your reaction.

You hummed with pursed lips, your freehand resuming the motion of the green orbs swirling in your palm, you had never felt your own emotions so vividly.

It was not love yet no, but you could feel your affection rolling off in a display strong enough that you feared anyone may sense it.

“Wednesday Addams, I believe what we have growing can only benefit the both of us, you have been my anchor for long before you knew it. I would like nothing more than to nurture the growth of your emotions, and if you end up hurting me I may very well have to learn how to project my emotions into someone else so that you may share my pain” you said with a small smile playing on your lips and a pink hue to your cheeks.

“I accept your condition” she said back rolling her thumb over the back of your hand before looking at you, a smirk forming without her permission.

#wednsday addams #Wednesday Addams x reader #Wednesday x reader #wednesday netflix #wednesday series #fanfiction #wednesday addams x reader #wednesday x you

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summertimemusician · 7 months

Text

Linktober Shadow Day 5

Master Kohga

*slams this down* LATE AND WITH ONE HECK OF A HEADACHE BUT I MADE IT!

Also I feel like we also need to talk about that the reason the Yiga are such doofuses usually is because they're riding the high of a full 100 years victory, and that after getting throughly kicked in the ribs they're probably gonna commit more crimes and probably return to their even more brutal roots actually, Kogah probably being the most likely one to shift to that first.

This goes out to you Warriors fans and simps, because ooh boy is he a delight to write, I think the duality of his name and status as a soldier is neat even if he's not my favorite Link.

Though the regular Linktober one will have to wait after I'm a bit more rested though so either later today or tomorrow, sorry folks.

Also uh warnings ahead?

TW:

Some descriptions of violence, specifically wrist targeted violence, kidnapping, and Reader going a little feral in defense of Warriors, nothing too big, but as this is coming from a horror fan I advise anyone who is squeamish to skip this one.

On a scale of one to ten of intimidation wrought by enemies of the Chain has faced, you’re pretty sure Kohga and the Yiga wouldn’t make even a negative ten on a normal day.

You’re not sure if it’s due to Wild’s most blase attitude about having a literal clan of traitorous, murderous Sheikah at him, a mix of bafflingly phlegmatic and elated with amused delight when talking about schemes you’d more associate to slapstick comedy than anything, the way you’ve seen any Yiga members dive for any throw bananas like a starving Wolfos pack on a lone Stalfos even if there was a cliff right in front of them with even more single minded determination than what was given to their mission, the way he’d refer to them as “Look they’re technically insane menaces to polite society out for mine and Flora’s blood, but they’re our technically insane menaces to polite society out for our blood” with a mix of bemusement and amusement or a mix of all three but according to the resident cook they truly weren’t a threat compared to, say, the cultists of Hyrule’s time whose sole goal wasn’t even to kill him but simply make him bleed, or Majora whom indirectly inflicted endless torture on Time, or Demise who literally started the cycle all of your heroes inevitably went through (because you could never blame Sky, none of you would even if it took shaking the notion into his thick skull). And they’ve apparently gone even more docile and to ground after Wild had defeated their master.

“And THEN he apparently has the nerve to go through our base and raid our banana supply! The nerve of that pesky, insistently annoying pest- Hey, are you even listening?” The sudden call made you jump, hissing as your wrist restraints dug into your skin, because apparently shackles with spikes on the inside of them are a thing and you very much would not have liked the approximate feeling of barbed wire wedged into your skin, biting into your flesh with all the viciousness and brutality that ensured you wouldn’t move your hands without feeling agony, the tone indignant as the presumably dead man stomped his foot nearby, “This is serious! First he peels me and my clan members like a banana, greatly exaggerates the rumor of my death and then THIS?!”

You school your features, trying really, really hard not to act out again as it comes down dangerously close onto Warrior’s unconscious head. Nodding along with the seriousness and solemnity worthy of a funeral, “Talk about the pot calling the kettle black! Such disrespect, at least you guys didn’t exaggerate about his death. And you’re supposed to be the bad guys here?”

(Well, more like you couldn’t move, really, funny thing about spikes on one’s skin and having one of your legs broken to the point glancing at exposed bone makes you want to dry heave at the gory sight, it.is.agony. Funny, how pain is an effective restraint in keeping people pinned down better than any arrow.)

You quickly revised your opinion and reassess the threat given the situation you're in now, as after your patrol on Wild’s Hyrule with Warriors you’d gotten ambushed and kidnapped through a mix of a double Silver Lynel ambush and sheer element of the surprise as bait, Warriors going down protecting you with all of the ferocity of his namesake, and choosing to risk getting a little roughed up over being separated from him.

You’re quite proud of yourself really, what with the way that you almost fully tore a chunk out of a Blademaster’s throat with your teeth and before they gave up, leg broken and with the spikes on your wrist as you woke up first with the fury of Volvagia’s fire scorching your veins, overwhelming the icy chill of terror in your veins and only instinct driving you because who knows what they’d done to him. Worth it. You wouldn’t forgive yourself if you let something happen to your favorite soldier boy. At least now you’re both in the same place, even if it’s with the man running the doomsday show himself.

“I know right?! Once I get my hands on that little nuisance, I am going to kill him dead!”

It’s a bit of a pity, in a way. You’re sure that under better circumstances you’d be as amused as Wild by him and he’d be a lovely conversation partner, you doubt the Yiga would follow him if he wasn’t charismatic after all, like watching a wet cat get their head stuck in a jar you had to admit watching the man struggle and fail was just a bit hilarious.

Alas by the whims of the gods spinning the wheel of fate and making it be fully comprised of misfortune to the point you really would like to have a nice chat involving your fists and their faces and maybe one foot straight up Hylia's gash, twas not to be, but it works in your favor. You just needed to stall for as long as you could until Warriors woke up or had an opening stop feigning sleep, either works.

“I just had a thought, a truly magnificent idea worthy of someone as worthy of being the Calamity’s most trusted champion! You travel with that twerp and his companions don’t you?”, the man stilled, then swerved towards you, you contained a flinch in a sudden movement, just on the edge of cartoony, adamantly looking over his shoulder rather than the twisted, crimson eye of the cold mask of the leader of the people who joked about keeping one of Warriors’ eyes as a necklace for it worked just as well as gem, “You could work for us instead, we’d pay you quite well for the information.”

Adamantly trying not to look at Warrior’s behind him, you hummed, head tilted, pretending to think about it, then shrugging, “Eh, I’ll pass. You Yiga don’t take well to traitors no?”

The man crossed his arms, adamantly nodding, “Of course not! Any and all who forsake our god should be slowly watch as their body parts are fed to Moldugas while they’re still alive!”

Cool, cool, lovely imagery to have, you were going to have one serious talk with Wild about proper threat assement once you’re back in camp by the way. You smile a bit back, remembering Warrior’s and using it as a reason to force a grimace away. Of the way he could charm better than any prince, making people fall in love with him effortlessly for better or worse and how you or Legend would viciously defend him from the worse crowd even if it gave you both Time’s exasperation (and grief from the other Links, who are all menaces whom you wished were less perceptive at times). Of the way he amusedly shared with you he main advantage was that no one could ever tell wether he was being friendly or baring his teeth, and how he slowly let you notice wether the curve was sharp or soft as you got closer. Making a point of showing your bloody, bloody teeth from both the Blademaster and which dripped down your head from one heck of a Lynel kick, you did not have Warriors natural charisma but you’d make do with your mediocre charm. “Well, I’m not in the habit of liking traitors much either you see. Sorry to let you down on that, plus if I can turn on them I can turn on you right? Better we skip that, I can give you a banana cake and banana pretzel recipe from where I’m from as compensation though?”

(You did not, in fact, know a recipe for banana cakes and pretzels by the way, but at this point you'll say anything just to buy you more time. Nothing like the age old ancient technique of lying. Wars would be proud his lessons came in handy.)

To his credit, he didn’t flinch. You’d actually be a bit shocked if he did given his clans entire gimmick to be fair. Sliding away from Warrior’s prone form and towards the one actually open door, keeping his back to the soldier, although his attention immediately focused on you like a Guardians aim, completely missing the light twitch to Warriors’ fingers you could spot in the dim torch light, “Fair enough, though you’re missing out on a lot if you ask me. Now! Banana cake you say? Might you be a person of culture after all even with an horrendous choice of company?”

Would you look at that, looking like a horror show does have it’s advantages!

“I mean I’d write it down but you know,”, you make a vague motion with your wrists, wincing a bit at the spikes, those would be a pain to get out later, you’d much have preferred ropes or chains, “But if you get some paper or get me to a kitchen I can direct your folks how to make it? You’d be the first to get a taste of it if you’re there too.”

He hums, pacing back and forth, Warriors eyes lightly crack open, the sapphire clouding with shock at your state, you can’t look at him long enough to figure out the ensuing combination of emotions, flashing, but you do see when the gems are forged into cobalt blades, you quickly mouth to him ‘Get free’ as soon as Kohga isn’t looking at you, he closes his eyes as Kohga turns towards him and nods. Though the Poe flame azure of his gaze could have probably killed the leader of the Yiga ten times over as he addresses you, “You’re an awfully generous hostage aren’t you? Though I like the way you think.”

You shrug, “I mean I’m not being manhandled, plus I’m bored so why not make some good food to kill time?”

You can see him weight his options, unnervingly staring at you beneath the mask. You adamantly don’t look at Warriors’ as he slides his boot very lightly against the wall, a small blade springing from the small compartment, thanking the Three the Yiga didn’t check either of your shoes as he twists around as silently as he can manage to cut himself free as Kogah nods, “Anyone with an appreciation for bananas should be allowed to share their wisdom, can you walk?”

You give him a flat look, you think Warriors bites his tongue to keep from making an equally indignant sound as Kohga seems to have the dots, awkwardly coughing, “That was a retorical question of course you can’t! I shall however extend you my benevolence, and call on my subordinates to carry you-“

He doesn’t even get to finish his sentence when Warriors pounces with a snarl, you lurch back, hissing as the spikes make your wrists bleed and chocking down a shout at the pain that crawls through your leg like lightning, but it’s enough.

Warriors wraps the remains of his rope around the Yiga Clan Leader’s throat in a makeshift garrote, and make sure to use his momentum to slam his head against the cold, hard ground of the hideout, doing it again for good measure with all of the strength and ferocity you knew for a fact he kept as well sheathed as a hidden blade.

It all took but a second, he didn’t even scream. You doubt that killed him, but he isn’t getting back up any time soon.

You slump over, coughing blood from your mouth, it wouldn't help much but it was a start, “Welcome back to the land of the living, Wars.”

He rushes towards you as soon as he finishes tying Kohga up with the remnants of his own rope, gently wiping the blood from your sight, he was battered and bruised but the most beautiful thing you’ve seen in your life as he checked you over, and you couldn’t help but lean into his touch, relief ringing like a sword being sheathed, it would be alright. “Can’t say I’m happy to be fashionably late this time. What did they do to you?”

“Hey, none of that,” you gently touch your foreheads together, you smile, tasting rust on your lips though Warriors doesn’t mind as you lightly try to take his mind out of it, “You should see the other guy.”

He sighs, fondly exasperated as he shakes his head, you consider the quirk of his lips a win even as he pauses over your wrists, eyes flashing with rage before focusing on your leg, “I’m sure, that was a killer performance. Maybe after all this is over you should take up acting back home.”

You snort, “I mean I did learn from the best-“

it distracts you long enough for him to snap your leg back into place. And all you know is that you with pain, ripping through your throat as you finally, finally, feel safe enough to pass out.

(Warriors winces sympathetically, heart breaking a little at your pain but knowing it was the only way you wouldn’t focus on it, better than for . Holding you close and allowing you to muffle your scream into his shoulder as he wraps your leg in his scarf, guilty and fury carefully hidden behind the soldier mask, knowing that the only thing that would satisfy the flames of retribution in his chest would be to use the Yiga as kindling until they eventually burned the remnants of protective rage all away to ash.

But he could make do with taking you as gently as he could as you pass out in his arms, resolve himself to get the contraption on your wrists out as soon as you were both back at camp. And to kicking Kogah on the way out. It's not nearly enough but it's a start.

You protected him as best as you could, it’s his turn to return the favor as he can as well. Anything else can come later.)

#linked universe x reader #linked universe warriors x reader #out of all the links I wouldn't like to see angry I'd say Warriors is definitely right up there because he has such keen self control #that when he does get angry he's more vicious than almost all of them combined #he's seen some stuff in the war and likely is holding in just as much as Time Wild and Sky #so out of the Chain he's probably the best liar and the one who can hold his emotions in the most effectively #because when he does need to eviscerate someone he's unleashing all of his focused fury on them #plus it helps him multitask on the well being of his comrades better as well as on the mission #aka in this house we appreciate Warriors for managing to strike the duality of perfect prince #and protective soldier that does what needs to be done and will make it so not even his enemies dental records help identify their bodies #it's a fine line but the man can work it you can't share your soul with someone who was loved by a god killed a god #became a vessel for a good has a beast in their soul and was marked by many realms and live through a war your existence caused #and not be just a little feral methinks. helps that Reader also is a little feral and gets it when in survival mode lol #summer writes linktober shadow 2023 #summer writes #Warriors can feign sleep really well and always has knives on his boots due to the traitor purge in the war of eras #I have many thoughts on the Yiga Clan but not enough energy to dwelve into them all today sadly

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