#and then the deer hisses at him and charges him and he has a moment of realization that

[ceilingfan5]

Could you do 5 from the prompt list (the doing crimes one) please? It made me smile.

“So Taako,” Kravitz stage-whispers, holding tightly to Taako’s legs to keep him on his shoulders. “I looked it up, and vandalism can be pursued as a felony charge. That’s-” He looks up to see how Taako’s doing and ducks his head so spray paint doesn’t get in his eyes. The sunglasses he brought only help a little, except for the part where it made Taako laugh but also slap his ass, so that’s half of a win. “That’s multiple years in jail.”

“Shouldn’ta googled it, Krav, it’s like looking up your symptoms or whatever.” Taako says, and Kravitz knows just from his tone he’s shaking his head wistfully. He knows Taako like the back of his hand, like Hamlet’s To Be or Not To Be speech, like the smell in the air when you know it’s going to rain without a shadow of a doubt. They’ve been friends for most of their lives. Kravitz has been pining after his stupid ass for what feels like nearly as long. He’s a fucking sucker, is what he is, and he knows it. “You know, you’re like, huh, why are my hands shaky, and the internet is fuckin’ like, CANCER TWO, THE SEQUEL TO CANCER! It was invented just so we could all watch you die miserable and alone, because the other reason you’re shaky is halitosis and also dick rot! Bleagh!!!” 

Kravitz tries not to laugh, and fails. 

“Not the dick rot,” he deadpans, “anything but dickrot. But no seriously, you’ve got to stop asking me to do crimes with you.”

“You’ve got to stop saying yes, coward. Okay, I’m done, lookie here.” Taako clicks his tongue, like he’s addressing a horse. Kravitz has half a mind to buck him off. Yeehaw. He looks up though, and has to laugh again, his composure not even recovered from the last go. 

“Is that skeleton-”

“Obviously. Okay, let me down, let’s dip.” 

Kravitz is about to comply right after Taako puts the spray cans back in his backpack, but a light snaps on, and Kravitz’s heart starts thumping like a rabbit at its first punk rock concert, and it doesn’t take Taako hissing go go go go for him to hold tight to Taako’s legs and bolt. It’s awkward and unwieldy, but they know this area, and it’s easy for them to disappear into the weeds and trees and junk left behind, along with Kravitz's sunglasses. Taako whoops and cackles and Kravitz holds onto him for dear life, but the chase thrums in his veins like caffeine and adrenaline had an affair and produced a spectrum of unlikely offspring even Gregor Mendel couldn’t grasp. 

They skid to a stop in a familiar clearing and Kravitz finally drops Taako to the ground, and they freeze, channeling all the deer energy they can muster, not even inches away from one another. There’s nothing, no sound behind them, no lights, no consequences, and when the breath they were holding together runs out, Taako laughs and hugs Kravitz and kicks his feet up in delight, and Kravitz laughs and spins him around and kisses him firmly on the lips like he’s wanted to for eight years, six months, and thirteen days. 

The ground catches them and they drop like dizzy bricks and lay there for a moment together before it all sort of clicks, and then they’re holding their breath again, not daring to look at each other, to say a single word. 

This gets old pretty quickly. If Kravitz could count on anything–the sun to rise, Burger Hut’s bathroom to scare his soul out of the holes in his shoes, fire to hurt when you touch it–he can count on Taako’s attention span. 

“You kissed me,” he accuses. 

“You kissed back,” Kravitz breathes, which is hardly a defense. 

“I’ve been waiting for you to do that for so fucking long I swear to god Kravitz I’m going to tear you apart,” he straddles Kravitz and kisses him again, “Do you understand me, I’m going to shake you to pieces,” he kisses him again, taking his hands and pinning them above his head, and Kravitz has to laugh, and Taako does too, and never before has a moment felt so alive. He’s humming like a neon sign and Taako can read it plain as day and things from this moment on are going to be so, so different and strange, and so familiar and safe, but for this delicate little island in the ocean of their lives, the world is hungry and quiet, and their hearts beat in unison, and they don’t have to draw any conclusions from the facts laid bare as their pulse just barely visible in the moonlight. 

“We- we can’t keep doing this,” Kravitz manages. “It’s- it’s too fun, I’m going to do something I shouldn’t-”

“Maybe you should,” Taako says. “A lot. So many times, consecutively, with me and nobody else, forever and ever until you die, how about that?” 

“Shit, I didn’t think of that.” 

They toss aside the paint filled backpack and take full advantage of the cover of darkness to express their feelings, finally, finally revealed. And it’s good. 

#taakitz #taakitz fic #taz #tazb #taz balance #the adventure zone #the adventure zone balance #fan5fics #thanks!

[sparrowmoth]

For the prompt: matchablossom or Kaoru for 2 pls <3

My Heart is Pierced by Cupid (I Disdain All Glittering Gold) • [AO3]

Teen | 2K | Matchablossom | Siren!Kaoru AU, Pre-Relationship

A/N: Thank you for sending this prompt, Rider! <3 For those curious, the prompt was: "Barefoot in the cool black sand of an empty beach, feeling the rush of the waves around their ankles and seeing the sea-foam almost glow beneath the moonlight" from this list of prompts I wrote. This is my first time writing for matchablossom. Please enjoy!

CW (spoilers): Non-graphic descriptions of blood and injuries, (attempted) shark attack, violence against sharks, implied animal death, knife violence, and references to humanoid creatures being treated as less than human.

Nights in a port town are never quiet—but it’s not the ruckus Kojiro seeks to escape from. Nothing at all, in fact, that he wants to escape as he takes off his shoes and jumps down from the dock, landing with a splash at the edge of the tide’s reach over cool, black sand.

He does seek something, if not escape.

He doesn’t know what it is yet—only that it’s calling.

Above, the moon is full and bright and shining down on the water; as he walks further from the edge of town and its lights and music and laughter, the moon seems brighter still and the beach foam seems to glow.

Time is lost to him now. He walks on without considering it, or anything, until—

There’s a sound some distance out, like something struggling in the shallows. Kojiro stops and listens to assess the size of it, deciding—most likely—it’s an injured seal, desperate to escape a predator.

He fingers the dagger that hangs from his belt and wonders if it’s worth it. He has no advantage against the sharks, but easy prey…

His family could eat well.

Telling himself that this is why he was called, that his ancestors led him, that this must be a gift, he steps into the waves with the grace of a deer—slow, gentle, and quiet, not disturbing the water—ears fixed on the sound becoming sharper and clearer than the white noise of the surf—

He unsheathes his dagger as the sea comes to his knees.

Moonlight flashes off the blade and a glance of pink shows through dark water. He thinks it must be a wound—some torn-open flesh—but no sooner has he thought that, something pulls him underwater.

He doesn’t scream, doesn’t fight. He holds his breath and tries to see despite the blackness and the burning. What he sees is something—someone—hovering above him, backlit by the moon; their long pink hair fans out like a halo, but their eyes—their eyes, cold and yellow, glowing faintly in the dark—their eyes full of pain and hatred—

Kojiro should be afraid.

He isn’t, though.

When his back hits the sand, he stares up at the creature who has him pinned by the shoulders; then—with a smirk—he propels his legs up, wraps them tight around the creature’s waist, takes a tight hold of their skinny wrists, and uses his bulk to turn them over—

The creature fights him harder than a fish on a hook, thrashing their tail enough to thrust them both upwards. Kojiro’s head breaks the surface and he takes a deep breath, then pushes back under.

He can see his dagger glittering in the sand below, if he could only…

Hissing, the creature knocks their heads together, stunning Kojiro and themselves, alike. They break apart a few feet, both struggling for their senses. Kojiro is first to move, though still seeing stars—

A huge, muscled tail, pink as cherry trees in spring, sweeps out and knocks into his stomach right as his fingers close around the dagger hilt. He opens his mouth in an involuntary gasp and nearly chokes on the water, but only grabs his weapon tighter. He’ll survive this.

Somehow.

He doesn’t doubt the thought, just lets it fuel him.

The creatures charges again and Kojiro’s lungs are burning, but he waits. He waits until the moment—the exact right moment—that he can seize the creature’s hair, wind it tight around his arm, and put his dagger to their throat before he drags them backwards—

He pulls them both up past the surface when he’s able to stand. He coughs up water and breathes in harshly, all while trying to speak. “I… don’t want to kill you,” he manages to say, but the creature just hisses and claws at his arm, writhing and splashing until the blade presses deeper and evokes a strange sound. “Are you… laughing?”

The creature—no—not just any creature, Kojiro thinks. This is a siren, as met by proper sailors—not poor fishers like him—so, why? Why does it feel like the sea, itself, has called him? Why does it feel like this is fate?

The siren is laughing.

It can’t be fate.

“You ‘don’t want to kill me,’” the siren rasps out, narrowing their eyes as they tilt their head back, staring up at Kojiro, “but your knife’s to my throat, so you’ll have to forgive me if—” They break off into a cough and blood dribbles down their chin, dark as ink despite the moonlight. “If I don’t believe you,” they finish, at last.

Kojiro frowns and eases up on the dagger. “You attacked me first.”

“You were trying to sneak up on me.”

“I thought you were a seal…”

“Don’t insult me, human.”

Again, the siren coughs and more blood stains their lips. They sigh and lick the blood away, trying to mask that they’re weakening—

Kojiro can feel it, that the siren is injured, might even be dying.

If immortals can die.

No, of course, they can. They were created by belief.

Kojiro hesitates, then withdraws—unwinds his arm from the tangle of roseate hair, lets the dagger slide slowly around until it’s pointed at the siren’s back. He keeps it pointed as he moves away, further and further, his other hand raised in a placating gesture—

For all the good that will do him.

The siren whips around, sinking down into the water until only its gold eyes are seen above the surface. “What are you doing?” they ask, voice gurgling up through the water, slightly distorted.

“Leaving,” says Kojiro, resisting the urge to stop and wrestle his shirt off as he becomes more aware of its cold, weighted cling.

He can’t let his guard down. Not yet.

“You pity me,” the siren utters with a temperamental splash.

Kojiro pauses in the surf, where gentle waves ebb and flow around his ankles. “I don’t pity fish,” he replies, causing the siren to bristle, “but you don’t look like you taste good, so I guess you’re off the…”

He trails off without thinking, sharp eyes catching on a wet gleam off the edge of a silhouetted fin, moving frenzied but with purpose.

He knows it immediately as a shark.

It’s caught the scent of blood and there is no time.

Kojiro curses under his breath, sparing a quick glance up to the stars—a silent question to his ancestors, the gods, even fate itself. Is he meant to die tonight? He has no time to wonder, just act—

“Shark,” he says, as much a warning as an explanation for why he’s suddenly plunging forward, startling the siren into a momentary stillness, their eyes blown wide and their arms raised to defend.

Kojiro is about to yell for them to move when they seem to sense it: the water rushing up behind them with a rhythm discordant from the waves. They lunge sideways, out from the path of a creature at least as long as they are, five times as wide, with hundreds of teeth.

Possessed by something inexplicable, Kojiro does not move. He hurtles forward, contracts his body like a spring, and jumps—

The dagger in his hands comes down on the shark’s head, piercing skin and bone, making blood gush like spilled ink over sleek gray skin as he rips the blade toward him; the wound tears open like a messy seam in the flesh, exposing insides to moonlight.

The shark does not—perhaps cannot—scream.

It only thrashes.

When Kojiro wrests his dagger up and out from the creature, it turns back out toward the sea and disappears below the surface. It will die and then be eaten, or both may happen at once. The cruelty can’t have been avoided; still, he sends a prayer up for the shark—

To whomever may hear it.

He realizes then that his hands are shaking.

He realizes it from the sound of his dagger splashing, sinking down to the sandy bed of the shallows. He looks down at the spot where it fell, but makes no effort to retrieve it. He simply turns to the shore—

“Wait,”the siren demands, voice breathy. “I said wait,” they hiss as they draw nearer, grabbing Kojiro’s wrist to try and tug him back.

With a grunt, Kojiro finds his footing in the shifting sands and, with the aid of the water, drags the siren along despite their efforts to resist him—while still refusing to let go.

They’re in less than a foot of water when the siren’s grip on him finally loosens and they splash down onto their stomach, raising their head to level a glare through the curtain of long, wet hair falling over their face—

“You should have let me die,” they grit out.

That gives Kojiro pause, though he doesn’t turn to look at them.

“Could have,” he says quietly, after a moment.

He hears the slap of the siren’s tail, then a hiss that becomes the words, “Why didn’t you, then? Why would you risk your life?”

Kojiro says nothing, just staring out across the dark expanse of beach that eventually fades into an even darker forest. He doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t know how to explain it—

“Why does it matter?” he asks, eventually. “Why do you care?”

The siren scoffs and glances askance, no more able to answer that than Kojiro. They could have killed him in the water, earlier on; in spite of their injuries, it would have been easy, and yet—

The worse they had done were those gashes on his arms; well, that and, they suppose, the attempt to drown him, but—in fairness—had that even been a real attempt? He would be drowned if they wanted him drowned, so what does it mean that they don’t and… he isn’t?

Kojiro moves to take another step toward the shore, but the siren grabs his ankle and pulls—hard—with all the strength they can muster.

He doesn’t seem to have expected that.

He goes toppling forward, face-first into the shallow water.

The siren laughs, a gurgling sound, as Kojiro comes up sputtering and quickly rolls onto his back, meeting golden eyes. The siren’s laughter fades as they move closer, audibly grunting, breathing heavy, but determinedly working up between Kojiro’s legs—

His elbows give out under him when the siren rears up, and he finds himself blinking beneath the water, staring up at a pale face veiled in shadows, golden eyes searching desperately for… something.

Kojiro doesn’t think that they find it.

“—just a human,” he catches them muttering as he pushes up out of the water, ignoring the sting of his gashes from the salt and the sand.

“Dime a dozen,” Kojiro says, exasperated. “So, will you let me go?”

The siren snaps their teeth at him, but seems to relent, making no move to stop Kojiro as he begins to crawl back, away from them.

It’s when he’s standing, looking down at the siren—the pale skin of their back blending out into a light pink tail and fins—that he really sees the damage: brutal gashes, scales on threads of skin, purple bruises, and fresh blood streaming down into the water—

The siren’s chin lifts, stubborn and strong. “You’re staring,” they accuse, and Kojiro—well—he doesn’t deny it, doesn’t look away.

Doesn’t ask what happened.

He’s seen the bounty out for sirens, heard the talk all through the town. Ainosuke Shindo—of Shindo Family Circus fame—is in the market for a siren to be his new crown jewel, his most audacious acquisition, his personal goldfish—or golden goose, as it were.

Kojiro breathes in slowly, knowing what he has here—knowing what he has to do. He turns aside toward the lights of the town in the distance, shining warm and yellow, beckoning him home—

“Are the stories true?” he asks. “Can your kind… grow legs?”

Thank you for reading! Reblogs are always appreciated. If you’d like to leave a kudos or comment on AO3, I’d really love that, as well! ♥

#matchablossom #sk8 the infinity #SK8 fanfiction #joe x cherry blossom #joecherry #sakurayashiki kaoru #kaoru sakurayashiki #nanjo kojiro #kojiro nanjo #siren!Kaoru #my fanfiction #my writing #SK8 #ao3 links #blood cw #cw blood #shark attack cw #ask to tag

[shy-urban-hobbit]

Slight prisoners throne spoilers under the cut!!!

Tiernan/Hyacinthe! The two grab a private moment back in Elfhame.

Hyacinthe sighed through his nose irritably as he lounges in the chair. He attempted to focus his attention on one of the books which had materialised alongside the furniture in Suren's magic dwelling, but he may as well have been trying to catch smoke with a fishing net for all the success he was having as his thoughts kept wandering to a certain bodyguard.

After being forced to fully acknowledge the depths of his own feelings at Tiernan's near drowning, the two of them had talked long into the night, laying everything bare - a task one would think would be made so much easier by the fact that neither of them could lie, but The Folk can still deceive in their own ways - and while Hyacinthe was now no longer afraid of Tiernan's words back in Queen Suren's palace being half truths at best and past truths at worst, that was all they'd done. Talk. With little to no time for anything else with both of their respective royal charges keeping them busy with the chaos they'd created.

He placed the book down roughly on the carved desk (an overly ornate piece he didn't much care for), deciding he needed to clear his head. The queen was surrounded by guards and his fellow falcons and he wasn't under orders to stay inside. She'd be fine without him for a quarter hour. Mind made up, he threw open the door to his room.

To reveal Tiernan with a fist raised, about to knock and wearing an expression like a startled deer - as if he hadn't expected Hyacinthe to be in his own room.

"Hyacinthe-"

Whatever else Tiernan was about to say, Hyacinthe didn't give him the chance before he was pulling him in by his raised fist and pressing their mouths together, preventing any more words from escaping.

Tiernan opened to him immediately, chasing and revelling in the taste of gooseberries that had always clung to his lovers lips. Oh, how he'd missed this! He felt one of Hyacinthe's hands wander from his hair to grip his jaw, forcing him to tilt his head and allow the other to deepen the kiss even further. Not that he had any complaints as his own hands moved ceaselessly across the others body, undecided on where to settle after so long apart as he let the lover he'd long thought lost to him take the lead.

He allowed himself to be pushed around the room until he was sat on the edge of the bed, mouths parting as Hyacinthe climbed into his lap, stripping off his shirt as he did so. Tiernan used it as an opportunity to sweep that thick, luscious hair to one side and lay open mouthed kisses and licks on the others neck as his hands explored that toned back, feeling the muscles tense and flex at the slight tickle of the featherlight touches. Hyacinthe tilted his head back, giving a contented hum at the attention before apparently growing impatient and tugging on the ties of his lovers shirt in a silent request. Tiernan was quick to comply, throwing the garment into a far corner before concentrating his attentions on the others chest, hissing when the Hyacinthe shifted closer in his lap, rubbing against him in a way that felt very deliberate.

"How did you even get in here?" Hyacinthe asked, running his hands over newly bared skin and peppering kisses across a pale collarbone.

"I told the guard outside I had an important message for you."

"You'd best deliver it then."

"What do you think I'm doing right now?" He leaned up to gently nip at Hyacinthe's lobe, "From my mouth, directly to your ear."

Hyacinthe's chuckle swiftly turned into a gasp as he arched into the sensation of Tiernan's fingers suddenly teasing a peaked nipple.

"Hyacinthe!"

If it weren't for the door in the way, the poor unfortunate interrupting them would have dropped dead from the scathing look Hyacinth threw over his shoulder.

"Hyacinthe, Queen Suren has need of you. Now!"

Hyacinthe pressed a quick peck to Tiernan's lips before rising to retrieve his shirt, "Will you stay?"

"Oak's dismissed me for the day while he spends time with his sisters, I'll still be here when you return. Suren isn't the only one who has need of you tonight."

Hyacinthe groaned, although whether it was in anticipation or exasperation Tiernan couldn't tell, before disappearing to do his queen's bidding.

Tiernan threw himself backwards on the bed, covering his face with his hands as he realised he had been well and truly...what was that human phrase Oak's sister had once used? Ah, yes.

'Cockblocked'.

#tiernan/hyacinthe #holly black #the stolen heir #the prisoners throne #the stolen heir fanfiction #tiernan #Hyacinthe #tiernan x hyacinthe #Hyacinthe/tiernan #hyacinthe x tiernan

[daevastanner]

Elucien: 20 lashes pt II

link to part 1 here

He should let her walk away from him.

He should remain in the corridor.

But her words keep replaying in his mind as she strides down the steps and out the front doors.

“You deserve better,” she had said.

And Lucien realizes… who was the last person to ever consider what he deserved?

For the life of him, Lucien can’t recall the last person, the last instance, where someone took his side.

Where someone stood up for him.

But Elain…

His reluctant mate.

She’d taken his side.

Lucien’s legs are suddenly restless, and he starts down the stairs and towards those double doors.

Out on the front lawn he sees Elain making a bee-line for the stone bench, that sits beneath a dogwood tree.

He nearly chuckles when she plunks herself down unceremoniously.

But then she’s frowning, cradling her hand in her lap. She is in pain.

Lucien hastens his stride to join her. That right hook she had thrown was piss poor. Her fist had been balled up tight, thumb tucked in. She probably jammed her fingers.

And the second punch to Tamlin’s shoulder certainly hadn’t done her any favors.

Lucien cautiously closes the distance between them with extreme caution.

It feels like he’s approaching an easily startled deer.

He wants her to know that he holds her to no promises. He is not taking her display of defiance on his behalf as consent. Lucien only means to help.

He expects nothing in return.

Lucien gestures to the empty space beside her. “May I?”

Elain doesn’t look up from her already bruising knuckles, but nods.

Lucien fluidly sits beside her, taking a deep, steadying breath before speaking again. “I can fix that. Your hand.”

She stills and Lucien curses himself.

He is searching his mind for an excuse to leave when Elain slowly offers him her hand.

It sits there for a moment, hovering in mid air. All Lucien can do is stare at it.

But the soft voice of the mating bond returns to him for the first time in a very long time, and urges Lucien to act.

Willing himself not to tremble, Lucien gently takes Elain’s hand.

It is warm and soft. It reminds him of her eyes.

He holds her fingers in both his hands, lips twisting as he runs a thumb across her knuckles.

“Is it… bad?” Elain asks. “It does hurt. But it doesn’t feel like I broke anything.”

“Can you try and move your little finger for me?”

Elain swallows then hisses as her pinky gives the smallest of movements.

“That’s what I thought,” he murmurs. “It’s a fairly common injury. Usually seen in drunken brawls.”

“I confess myself inexperienced with such injuries.”

Lucien chuckles at her quiet humor.

Her cheeks pink, Elain presses, “I’m assuming it’s not so grave an injury.”

Lucien meets her eyes and dares the hint of a smirk. “You may never garden again.”

To his surprise and delight, Elain laughs. A true laugh. She tosses her head back and the setting sun casts her hair a burnished gold.

Still, he doesn’t allow himself to hope that this amicability, this easy conversation, will ever evolve beyond this day. Beyond this moment.

He clears his throat as her laughter winds down. “This may tingle a bit,” he cautions.

Elain bobs her head, and Lucien holds her hand just a little tighter, focusing on healing those fractures.

“I didn’t know you had healing magic,” Elain says, a current of discomfort lacing her tone.

“Only the barest amount. No more than your standard fae.” He looks up from her slowly mending hand, meeting her gaze yet again. “You likely have some yourself.”

She hums in approval and the wrinkle between her brows smooths as Lucien finishes healing her hand.

He is reluctant to release it.

When will he touch her again?

When will they be this close again?

No.

He cannot allow himself to hope for that. He cannot allow himself to even consider the possibility.

With no small amount of effort, Lucien releases his hold on her hand.

His chest pinches when she doesn’t immediately withdraw.

Instead she lifts her hand from his palm and holds it to the sunlight, examining it curiously.

“Can you move your fingers?” Lucien asks (even though he knows the answer).

She wiggles her delicate fingers, and something primal in Lucien is pleased.

He has cared for his mate. He has made her feel better. He has healed her.

“I don’t regret it,” Elain says, still admiring her hand. “Hitting him.”

Lucien’s mouth is dry. He doesn’t know how to respond.

She drops her hand then folds both of them in her lap. Her brown eyes focus on the ground as though she’s seeking out an answer in the emerald blades of grass.

“I was just… so angry.” Elain sighs. “I’ve never been so angry in my life.”

He had seen it. He had seen the anger break out on her face. Had practically smelled it on her before she turned and marched into the manor.

And he recognized it. He recognized that feral animosity.

Elain had learned that someone had harmed her mate, and had felt that primal urge to defend him.

“It was like I was burning. It felt like my blood was… charged.”

Lucien nods and considers his next words carefully. “I am familiar with the feeling.”

Elain’s eyes snap to him, and he can’t tell if she’s curious or crestfallen. “It’s… it’s part of… what we share then.”

He nods again.

She sits a little taller, steeling herself. “It’s a part of the mating bond.”

Lucien fights to keep his jaw from dropping. For some reason it’s… staggering to hear her say those words. To hear her mention the mating bond and call it by its name.

“I thought I’d gone mad,” she murmurs. “It felt like I’d lost all control.”

Self-admonishment and guilt flicker in her eyes and Lucien feels a pang of sympathy…

…and again that primal urge to fix this, comfort her.

“No, you aren’t mad.” He didn’t dare hold her stare when he spoke the next words. “It’s white hot when it starts. Your blood roaring in your ears. Your heart thundering against your chest. It blinds you. You feel a need, a compulsion, to act.” Lucien folded his arms and leaned back against the tree, trying to appear casual though he felt anything but. “It takes root and you feel entitled to the rage, because… because the person who… who, erm…”

He doesn’t know how to say it without alarming her.

So she says it for him: “The person who you are bonded to?”

But she says it not as a suggestion.

She says it as a mercy.

To let him know that she is not afraid of him. Not afraid of the bond. He had, in keeping his distance, gained this much ground in her trust.

He continues, “Yes, you feel entitled to rage for that person, and that call to protect… it has to be answered. You think the only way it will fade is… is if you take action.”

“And it did,” she says. “It went away after I hit him…”

There’s an awkward pause and Lucien takes no time in filling it.

“And don’t forgetting spitting at him…”

A soft, wry laugh.

Silence that Lucien is again happy to fill.

“…and then hitting him again.”

Her laugh is a little brighter this time, and when she again meets his gaze her expression is… grateful.

He clears his throat, not wanting to allow himself the chance to savor this moment. To savor the way she looks at him without apprehension.

He doesn’t want her to run.

But he also wants her to know that she is free to.

It pains him to say it, but he forces himself to: “The bond causes many urges, but they are… more easily ignored than some may believe.”

It’s a lie.

But something like disappointment flashes across her face…

It’s just as quickly gone as it had arrived. “I see.”

Lucien feels something between them then. A sort of static thread anchored at the center of his chest. The place where he had felt that warmth spark all those years ago when she’d tumbled out of that cauldron and he had realized she was his mate.

And he suddenly notices that her dainty fingers are resting over her breastbone. Right where she might feel a similar sensation to the one he is experiencing.

This remarkable thread he’d never noticed till this day.

Lucien’s heart wrenches. Oily regret seepes through his veins at what can never be.

He debates telling her now. Telling her what he has planned to give her for Solstice this year.

The opportunity to break their bond.

Gods dammit he had just accepted that their bond was a sham.

He had just resigned himself to being without a mate.

He’d been training his mind for months not to go mad at the loss of her.

And then she had shown up today.

Looking like an angel.

Smiling at him.

Laughing at his jokes.

Wearing his earrings.

Defending him.

Letting him touch her.

Discussing the bond.

Her human heart, he realized, still existed there. It still beat. Fickle and volatile and full.

Did he dare unlock those doors?

Did he dare break the locks he had forged to keep her out?

Did he dare allow himself to dream again?

Did he deserve to?

“I asked you once,” Elain begins, her voice as fragile as a rose petal, “if you could hear my heart. You said you could not.”

Lucien nodded.

“Is the answer the same now?” she asks.

And he can tell that for whatever reason… Elain is hopeful his answer will be different.

But he cannot lie to her. He cannot lie to his mate.

“I cannot.”

The only sound is the breeze rustling the leaves, and Lucien’s blood pounding in his ears.

He remembers her response from before as though it was the rhythm of his own heart:

“No one ever does. No one ever looked—not really.”

Her expression then, so forlorn, so hopeless…

She did not wear it now.

Instead, Elain nods, and she seems almost resolute. As though she’s come to a decision.

He doesn’t dare consider what that decision may be. He doesn’t dare to hope.

And even still, as their eyes meet, he can almost hear what she’s thinking. Or at least he thinks so…

But you see me all the same, don’t you?

And he knows she can’t hear him, but he answers her silently: Yes, I do.

The easy silence continues and Lucien, for once, has no words.

“This Court is far too pretty for Tamlin,” she scowls.

And Lucien laughs, full bodied, at such a menacing expression on such a lovely face.

“You should tell him that.”

Elain balks. “I think I should ration my abuses towards him wisely. I’ve already punched him twice on this visit.”

“And spit at him,” Lucien adds wisely.

She laughs and Lucien is reminded of fox-glove flowers.

He is reminded of light and happiness.

The mating bond is the farthest thing from his mind.

Only Elain and her laughter remain.

Elain, her laughter, and the promise of maybe purchasing a new set of sheers for this year’s solstice gift instead.

#elain and lucien #elain archeron #elucien #lucien vanserra #acotar #acotar headcanons

[oreomonsterhunter]

Saturday Evening

Pairing: Jackson x reader

Word count: 1200

Warnings: a hint of sauce

Synopsis: part 2 of domestic fluff with Jackson Wang...check out part 1!

[ 6:21 pm ]

Jackson decided that he was in charge of dinner, since you had made breakfast.  A true accomplishment, considering all of his distractions.  But somehow you forgot Jackson’s limited kitchen experience, because it turned out that “in charge of dinner” meant instant noodles.

You look at the ramen packs in his hands, then back up into Jackson’s face, wearing your best pout.  He frowns at you, shaking the packages like that will change your mind.  In response, your pout deepens, and you bat your eyelashes for added effect.  Soon enough, he’s rolling his eyes and reaching for the takeout menu drawer.  “Alright, what will it be, princess?”

“Pizza!” you cheer, dancing around him.  “Ooh wait, can we get takeout from that one place with the spicy noodles?  Or pasta from the Italian place?  No, burgers!”

Jackson holds out the menus with a serious expression.  “Alright, eyes closed.  The universe is in charge of dinner tonight.”

You squeal in excitement, smacking one hand over your eyes while the other blindly selects a menu.  From Jackson’s dramatic scream, you know exactly which one you picked.

[ 8:13 pm ]

Jackson washes the dishes while you flip through movie options, wanting something fun for tonight.  You suppose you should feel guilty about not leaving the apartment all day, but you’ve had so much fun.  It’s nice to stay in, and nicer still to have Jackson all to yourself.  He rarely has this much free time, and the fact that he wants to spend it with you never fails to give you the warm and fuzzies.  You grin as you hear Jackson muttering to himself in the kitchen.  “Everything okay?” you call over your shoulder, pulling another DVD out to add to your pile of maybes.

“Yeah,” he grouches, closer than you expected.  You turn to see him standing in the doorway, shirt soaking wet.  He tries to frown when you erupt into giggles, but can’t quite manage a believable glare.

“Did the sink attack you?” you finally manage.

His lips twitch, “You’re a real comedian, why don’t you quit your day job?”  You just grin at him until he groans and stalks to the bedroom.  “Anything but a romance,” he says, pointing a finger at you threateningly, before he goes to get a new shirt.

Funny, coming from him.  You distinctly remember him crying when you showed him some of your favorite films, many of them romances.

When he reemerges from the bedroom, you’ve narrowed down the list to five options, which you spread on the carpet before you like oversized tarot cards.  “The decision is yours,” you wave him over to take a look.

He stares at you in pretend shock, “They’re all Disney movies.”

“There’s one DreamWorks film, too,” you point out.  Jackson rolls his eyes, but you know he’s just messing with you, even before he plucks Tangled out of the lineup.  While the movie whirs to life, he turns and surveys the room.  You wiggle your eyebrows at him when his eyes finally land on you.  “Whatcha thinking there, handsome?”

“I’m thinking this is pretty boring for a movie night, and we can definitely do better.”

You know that twinkle in his eye, and you jump up excitedly.  “Pillow fort?” you ask hopefully.

Jackson gives you the nod.  “Pillow fort.”

The next fifteen minutes are spent assembling blankets and pillows from across the apartment to craft the perfect cozy tent.  You situate some chairs while Jackson drapes a quilt over the top, tucking the ends into the couch cushions.  Jackson runs to make some popcorn while you light candles and turn on the string lights.  Once Jackson returns with snacks, you both shuffle into the fort, adjusting cushions underneath you for the coziest movie experience.  When all is said and done, you’re tucked under his arm, knocking your fuzzy sock clad feet into his.

You’ve both seen the movie many times before, so you don’t feel too bad when you get distracted by how pretty Jackson is.  The string lights cast a soft and warm glow around the space, illuminating his features just right.  Sometimes you look at him and can’t quite believe it’s real, that he’s not a dream—he’s next to you and close enough to touch.

Jackson must feel you watching him, because the next thing you know, you’re lost in his eyes.  You know he’s smiling by the crinkles at the corners, and you respond in kind.  The words come out with hardly any conscious thought, “I love you.”

His smile widens, and he places a smacking kiss on your forehead to make you giggle.  “Love you, too.”

Jackson’s arm tightens around you, and you rest your head on his shoulder, focusing on the movie once more.  Rapunzel had just gotten to the Ugly Duckling when Jackson lets out a shriek beside you.  He jumps to his feet, arms flailing, knocking down the blankets overhead in his haste to get out.  You blink, completely taken by surprise, as he manages to single handedly dismantle the fort in a matter of seconds.  He finally stops halfway across the room, eyes wide as he scans the ground.  “Babe?” you ask, tentative.

Jackson freezes in the middle of wiping his hands down his pants, a deer-in-the-headlights expression on his face.  “Uh...there was a bug.  A big one,” he says.

Now it’s your turn to jump up and run out of the fort, or what’s left of it.  “And you just left me there,” you hiss at him, smacking his arm.  You turn on the overhead lights so you can see better.  Then you jab an elbow into his ribs for good measure.  “If we ever end up in a zombie apocalypse, I’m leaving you for Jinyoung.”

“Hey,” he exclaims, “I’m leaving you for Jinyoung first.”

You glare at him, then stomp over to the remains of the fort to find the bug that ruined your moment.  “Fine, then I’ll leave both of you for Namjoon.”

Jackson gasps in outrage behind you, watching as you poke at the blankets.  “Not Namjoon-ah,” he sputters.  “Fine, take Jinyoung.”

You smirk in victory.  “Alright, I’ll tell him that Wang Gae, Park Gae is all a lie,” you sass, pulling out your phone to reveal the voice recording app.  Jackson lunges for you and your phone, but you dance out of reach.  “Find the bug, Jackson,” you taunt.  “Then I’ll delete it.”

He makes a face, but starts lifting the blankets one by one while you watch, cackling in the background.  When he finally finds the “bug”, it turns out to be a tiny spider, which you release out the window while Jackson flops on the couch.

“All that for an itsy bitsy spider,” you pat his head sympathetically.

“Don’t mock me, woman, you still have incriminating evidence against me,” he grumbles.

You let out a dramatic sigh, dropping onto the couch to sit right on top of him.  He lets out a grunt as he absorbs your full body weight.  “I guess I could be convinced to delete it,” you say, tapping a finger on your chin.  His body shakes with a laugh, jostling you slightly.  Then his hand slides up your thigh to rest on your hip.

“Convinced, huh?”

You swing one leg over him to straddle his waist.  Cocking one eyebrow, your smile turns sly.  “Convince me.  Ball’s in your court, pretty boy.”

* * * * *

Masterlist

#fluff fluff tooth rotting fluff #and giggles #and some slight spice at the end #sugar and spice and everything nice #posting this immediately because I have absolutely zero self control right now #enjoyyyyyyyy #jackson wang fanfic #jackson wang imagine #jackson wang imagines #jackson wang #kpop fanfic #kpop imagines #got7 jackson #got7 #jackson wang x reader

[terrence-silver]

“You don’t just follow people to their homes! I’m calling the police.” with Yandere! Terry x Reader, please? You're so talented!!

@animeguyzzloverzoo

-

You dial the number, and you hear him chuckling from behind you.

It was a dreadful mistake. Turning your back for even but a moment on him, as you bluff and try to pretend you're hitting up 911 hoping the very prospect of such an action would be enough to daunt him and send him along his merry way after he's tailed you here. Perhaps it would, some lesser, feebler men - men with less dedication to a cause - but Terry Silver was no such man. He didn't fear any authority. Any law or rhyme or reason. He could buy and sell them all on a whim, and be out of confines and cleared of all charges before the patrol car even pulls up in front of your doorstep, but that just wasn't the point. The whereabouts of the LAPD and the fact they were so easy to bribe wasn't the subject of debate here. Everyone under the sun loved money. Cops. Criminals. Judges. Lawyers. Men. Women. Whores. Nuns. The point was, you offended him on a fundamental level. You thought him the type of commonplace, discount stalker who you could frighten off. Simply shake off with a few amateur tricks and stupid excuses. Wiggle free by pretending to be resourceful and oh-so brave in the face of danger by calling the cops. You underestimated him, and well, that really irked Terry. Calling the police? On him? Seriously? What a painfully dull, tired cliche. He wanted to break out laughing, and at one point, he does, the sound of it paralyzing you like a deer caught in the headlights. He didn't like to be underestimated by anyone ever, least of all, his targets. His special points of interest. He wanted his skills at subterfuge and following his prey to be taken seriously. He wanted to be feared, properly, as a menace should be feared. But this? This was downright insulting? He wasn't some two-penny, whimpering bandit with a crush. To be a proper voyeur - it was an art-skill. Like ballet. Like ice-skating. And he was more then a proper voyeur. He was a cyclone.

You wouldn't stare in the eye of a tornado, now would you?

No, you'd turn away, run, flee and seek shelter.

Pray that you're not caught in the midst of the storm.

Well, Terry Silver believed himself not that different from a tempest.

-"Yeah, George, it's me."- He steals the phone handle from you with ease.

He talks with the operator, as he assumes, stationed at cubicle 1589. working an afternoon shift from one in the afternoon until seven in the evening and it turns out it's correct, just judging by his voice. Nice man, that George. Has a wife. Three kids. Aged twelve. Ten. Six. He has a mortgage. A nice little car he's almost paid off. And his blood type is AB negative and sometimes, when he pees in the morning, his urine burns thanks to a brief extramarital affair he's had with a red-haired, green-eyed Valley-girl hooker simply going by Jade (very original) two years ago. Most helpful with the occasional favour too. Very blackmailable. He knows the local police stations and the diligent little ants manning them, inside and out, like the palm of his hand and he smiles, pushing you up against the end table where your telephone electrical wire is attached to the wall as you stand trapped, between his torso and a firm piece of furniture, shocked, that he's talking the nameless figure on the other end of the line like an old friend. You don't realize just how powerful he really is, do you? You know, to some extent, but it never quite hit you, until now, it seems, as he speaks up once more, with a nonchalant grace meant to annoy you, much to his absolute delight. You were so cute. -"Yes, false alarm, that's all. Not to worry. No need to record this. You're a real peach!"- Terry finishes the conversation with his fakest, snake oil-salesman corporate charmer voice and swiftly breaks the line, hanging up with a click, maintaining his posture and furthermore, maintaining you imprisoned right there, with no place to run. This is why you don't underestimate him. The typhoon that he was could easily swallow you. You should've feared him more. Dreaded him with more finesse. Gave him something worthy of him.

He years to wrap the telephone cord around your neck and strangle you with it.

-"Next time,"- he hisses into your ear, enveloping you from behind, in the darkness.

-"If you wanna call for back-up, think of someone who'd be an actual challenge."-

Terry bites into lobe of your ear, grinding into your posterior wantonly right before he snorts in amusement, wrapping your own shivering arms around yourself as he holds you down hard, in a tangled mess of limbs, licks your cheek covered with salty, cold sweat with a long, delectable moan, leaving a trail of hot, searing saliva on your skin as goodbye and goodnight, lets you go of your frozen, stiff frame with the same suddenness he's grabbed you and disappears down the corridor of your apartment, leaving in one swift motion, silently, like a ghost, in the moonless, starless evening, dressed in black - all leather, gold and turtlenecks, blending in with the busy, buzzing abyss of the urban midnight. Tomorrow, he'd visit again. And after that, he'd do it again. And after that, he'd repeat the all-too familiar motion. And after that. And after that. And after that. Why would there ever be an end to something he so dearly wants anyway?

#terry silver #terry silver yandere #kk3 #request #thank you #you're so kind for your words #thank you for the ask too #x reader insert #terry silver x reader

[stilemawillow]

Romantic? More Like NO [Levi | Reader]

Prequel: Fairy Tale NOT Like

"Levi, I really am irritated right now." Hearing her voice from the female showers made him just as irritated because she might’ve been pretty but she had no tact and it was too early for him to get another headache.

"As if I don't fucking know that already. I'm irritated, too." He was leaning on the wall next to the door and leaning slightly to the side would expose her whole body to his eyes but it was a thing he - one, shouldn’t do and two, wasn’t interested in doing. He’d be lucky if Mikasa Ackerman didn’t show up for her early shower because if he were to be seen waiting on a grown-ass unknown woman by the door, he’d quickly go from Humanity’s Strongest Soldier to Humanity’s Biggest Pervert.

"You're not the one having to play a ninja around an army's headquarters." She snapped from the inside.

"Yes, but I'm the one who has to play the stupid ninja’s bodyguard around the headquarters of the army I'm supposed to be second-in-command in." He hissed in return, listening to the slowly decreasing sound of water hitting the floor.

"Just tell me one thing." The warmth was first, then he turned his head and the tip of his nose almost bumped into hers. Pupils dilating in surprise, his orbs followed the droplets rolling over her skin but his corssed arms stood ridig as if glued to his chest. "What am I going to wear now?" Her sweet voice was laced with fake innocence but her lips wore a small smirk. He snorted but kept quiet. "You're not going to give me any of your clothes, are you now?"

The situation was so messed up right now.

After he’d brought her the coffee, Levi had hastened to point out her stink and immediately after force her into the showers, dismissing her concerns on what she’d wear afterwards by telling her he had a plan. He, in actual fact, had not even an inkling of a plan. Every option he could think of was either humiliating, incriminating or straight-up perverted.

If he gave her his clothes and they were seen together, there would be assumptions. Her dress was already with the piles of laundry that would be washed today, stealing somebody else’s clothes was plain ridiculous, asking another female cadet for an outfit would lead to even more assumptions and making her sneak around the HQ in nothing but a towel was a scene out of a book Hanji would write. He considered finding clothes for her on his own but leaving her alone was too risky. And since the showers would start filling up soon, he had no choice but to take her with him.

"You're going to wear something. Follow me and be quiet." He ordered, heading down the hallway and looking around every time a sound erupted from a room. It could’ve been a snore, the shuffle of clothes or a blanket - it didn’t matter because Levi was paranoid. Then his heel made an unstable plank creak in the silent space and he mentally shat himself.

He was supposed to be a soldier, a former thug, flexibe and agile, and strong, but no--- he couldn’t even walk without making the floor creak like it would break. He held back a groan and resumed walking only to feel something pulling him back by the wrist. (Y/N)’s determined expression faced him the moment he turned back. He awaited her words with a thinning patience. They were making progress and she just had to stop him for God knows what.

"You do know that even if people see us together they wouldn't speak, right?" Her question - naive, stupid and anything but reasonable, made him want to facepalm against the wall.

"And how does that help us?” He frowned. They were so close to the staircase. Why did she have to stop and ask stupid questions?

"All I'm saying is you can make anybody who sees us keep their mouth shut.” She reasoned, making his brow twitch in annoyance. His voice, however, managed to stay quiet.

"It's not that easy."

"Because they’d talk about it behind your back?"

"This isn't even a---" His voice grew in volume as his patience ran out but his incoming outburst was quickly cut off by a muffled voice coming from behind the door they were standing next to.

"Armin, did you hear that?"

"Fucking shit." Levi cursed under his breath, exchanging a panicked look with (Y/N). That was Jean Kirstein’s voice. His brain went into overdrive  - they couldn’t run up the stairs, couldn’t wait to be caught here either.

He grabbed her wrist and pulled her to the other side of the narrow hallway into the first room he saw, which was seemingly the last one in row. He hastily opened the door, gripping (Y/N) and feeling his heart on its way to burst. He wouldn’t allow to be caught with a half-naked woman by his own squad.

He heard her call his name as the door was shut - she was pressed against the wall, feeling her towel slip. She held her breath and the fabric fell to the floor, except she couldn’t pick it up since one of her hands was captive and the other was the only thing holding her upright and quiet. The raven-haired man was staring at the door but he would look at her sooner or later.

"I think I heard someone." Armin's voice sounded as he exited the room and looked around, three pairs of footsteps following close behind. (Y/N) couldn’t tell Levi not to turn - a whisper could ruin everything. So she’d keep quiet because the raven seeing her naked in the dark was better than them being found.

"Berthold, do you see anyone?" A masculine voice was heard, one that Levi recognised as Reiner Braun's.

"It's too early for this Reiner." Berthold stated quietly, probably trying not to wake the other cadets.

"I bet I heard someone, guys." Jean's voice sounded next and Levi knew he was fucking doomed. Four damn cadets were going to find him in a closet with a half-naked woman - great.

"Maybe the girls were just heading to the shower."

Levi turned around and his eyes widened. He could hear (Y/N) gulp, then he drew a sharp breath and bit back every vocal reaction which came to mind.

"Maybe we can get to see Mikasa today."

Realising that he’d been stopping her from covering herself, the male let go of her wrist and watched her shakily cover her breasts as her free hand began blindly searching for her towel.

"As if. Come on, Jean. If she doesn't kill you, Eren will try."

The cadets’ conversation was white noise to his ears, his eyes couldn’t leave (Y/N)’s body and his ears could only hear his blood rushing around his body at the sight.

"And maybe after that Corporal Levi will end you completely."

He caught the sound of his name but paid no attention to it, fixed on the woman who finally found the towel and attempted to hide herself. Only then did it occur to him his gaze brought her discomfort. He faced the other way quickly, momentarily stunned by his own rudeness.

"Why would the Corporal even care?"

He heard an almost audible sigh come from her lips once she was covered so he turned, watching her hands grip the upper part of the towel as her gaze avoided his eyes at all cost. Her previous confidence was nowhere to be found.

"He is in charge of Eren after all. If Eren ends up getting hurt during the fight, both the Corporal and Mikasa will beat you up. He's obliged to do it, while Mikasa..."

"Is Mikasa."

"Anyways, let's stop talking about this. Do you know the time?"

"We have time before breakfast."

"But the Corporal will punish us if we end up sleeping in."

"I’m with Berthold, let's go for the showers."

"No, we better sleep a little more."

He made a step in her direction, to which she tried to retract and her foot hit something which then dropped to the side with a loud clangour. Fucking bucket. (Y/N) looked at Levi like a deer in headlights and he, despite his stoic persona, related the same panic she did. He cursed under his breath.

"Did you all hear that?" Jean's startled voice reached their ears as they stood motionless as possible in the closet, fearful of doing as much as breathing.

"Is there an intruder?"

"Jean, come on. Who would sneak into the headquarters? They must be crazy or stupid. The Commander would make Corporal kill them or something." Reiner said and (Y/N) eyed Levi.

"Not knowing the Corporal and being stupid are vastly different - one is called being uninformed." Jean argued, much to Reiner’s dismay.

"And the other is called being crazy. Now let's just go to the showers."

(Y/N) was about to stifle a giggle when Levi’s reflexes acted - knowing when something wouldn’t go as planned. His hand covered her mouth and she held in a yelp as her balance was knocked off and her back hit the wall with a thud.

"Okay, I definitely heard that one! Is someone pranking us?" Jean's voice grew in pitch and volume, meaning he was approaching the closet.

"Jean, what’s all the fuss about?" Another voice (Y/N) didn’t recognise joined the conversation, to which she glanced at Levi in confusion, mouth still covered by his cold hand.

"The suicidal bastard was freed from his cell." Jean's mocking remark almost made (Y/N) snort.

"Hanji came to unlock me for showers and breakfast." The other voice responded just when (Y/N) picked up the unmistakable speech of her hyperactive friend. She felt herself tensing alongside Levi.

"Hello, kiddos! What's up?" Hanji greeted, to which Jean had an immediate reply.

"I heard a sound---"

"Jean is being delusional." Reiner cut off, setting the other boy off.

"No, I definitely heard something! Someone is sneaking around!"

"Who do you think is sneaking around the headquarters?" Hanji questioned curiously, clearly doubting the cadet’s accusations.

"I don't know! Probably a cadet who went to town. They do it often." Jean tried to reason with Hanji and the others, but they weren't ready to accept his seemingly delusional point of view yet.

"I know people do that, Jean. I do it to meet up with (Y/N) and the plank in front of Erwin’s office always creaks." The mad scientist complained and Levi made a mental note about Hanji sneaking out. And about the creaky plank. Armin and Eren went on to ask who (Y/N) was, which just prompted Hanji to rant. “An old friend of mine. She's extremely sweet! And such an eye-candy! Levi couldn't get his eyes off her yesterday!"

Levi couldn't get his eyes off her now either, but he wasn't going to let that information become public knowledge. He was sure she’d sensed it too - the sexual tension drowned by the panic and anticipation they felt.

"Corporal couldn't what?" Eren sputtered, almost choking in shock.

"What was Corporal Levi doing with (Y/N) yesterday?" Armin's voice rang, announcing to (Y/N) and Levi the erasure of Hanji’s brain-to-mouth filter.

"Oh, we went to that ball Eren was whining about! It was fun, Levi took (Y/N) as his escort, he had a suit, flowers and everything!" Levi would’ve facepalmed if possible, whereas (Y/N)’s discomfort grew to the point she contemplated giving his handsome face a slap and walking out of the closet. It would ruin only his reputation either way - but that was the problem.

The whole Survey Corps would suffer if their most valuable member was caught breaking the rules. His authority normally prevented people from badmouthing him but even that wouldn’t save him if rumours of him having a lover got out. It was something (Y/N) couldn’t allow - besides being interesting to her, he was also willing to land her a job.

"And what happened then?" The question derailed her train of thought and she was back in the dark closet, painfully pressed against the wall. She tried to change that by moving just a little and that was when the old forgotten bucket came back into play.

"Oh, well, Levi---"

(Y/N) gasped as her mouth was released and her foot slipped on the bucket - then Levi’s fast reflexes saved them a very painful fall by pushing their bodies back against the wall, except it cost them their low profile.

"Okay, that's it! Now everyone heard that one, right?!" Jean's voice echoed as the others shuffled about.

"You weren't lying after all." Hanji’s statement was heard over the shameful admittances of the other cadets confirming they’d finally heard it themselves.

"Is there someone... in that closet?" The words that exited Berthold's mouth made (Y/N)'s eyes fill with fear. Levi’s composure was also slowly starting to leave him.

"You know the only way to understand."

"Rock, paper, scissors - loser opens the door?"

Besides his composure, his self-respect evaporated at his own squad’s stupidity. He felt more humiliated listening to their problem-solving tactics than imagining himself getting caught with a half-naked woman in a closet. A few seconds of silence later, a small sigh left somebody’s lips, to which the duo in the closet exchanged worried glances.

"Armin, go for it." A voice was heard and said blond sighed again before asking:

"Why do I even have to---"

"Just do it." Jean insisted and the others hummed in agreement.

"You won't die."

"On three." Hanji announced.

Armin’s steps approaching the closet were heard. (Y/N) felt her heart was about to burst and Levi could already picture decades of reputation crumbling to the ground. Years of being a cold-hearted ass with a deadpan, years of fear and respect and not an ounce of regret.

"One..."

The woman met his gaze, feeling his fingers twitch in the slighest over her waist. She mouthed a small apology and he shook his head. He wanted to blame her for everything but he couldn’t stoop that low.

"Two..."

Her fingers were digging into his rigid shoulders when he closed his eyes. He didn’t want to look.

"... three!"

There was the opening of a door. Nobody was saying anything---

Thud.

Crash!

Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click.

"Shit! That scared me." Jean's voice was just as muffled. Levi slowly opened his eyes to witness the confusion on (Y/N)’s face in the dark.

"It was just a racoon." At Armin’s statement, both their heads whipped back to look at the closed door with wide eyes.

"Mystery solved. At least Jean hasn't gone delusional yet." Hanji mocked cordially, making said boy give an exclamation of indignation. Everybody else was chuckling and (Y/N) and Levi hadn’t begun getting over their shock.

"Now let's go to the showers."

"Okay, okay."

"I'm going to visit Erwin. See you at breakfast, kiddos!" Hanji was off, her footsteps fading up the stairs.

"How did that racoon even get in there?" The boys discussed, voices dropping.

"I don't have an idea..."

Once their footsteps had faded down the hallway, Levi let go of (Y/N), deciding it was safe for them to go out. He dusted himself off and slowly opened the door.

"That was a close call." (Y/N)'s words made him sigh as they slipped back into the empty hallway. He noticed her voice had a sweet ring to it when she was nervous.

"Tell me about it." He snorted and observed the open door of the other closet, right next to their hiding spot.

"I'm sorry about that." Her apology was mumbled in mild shame as he clicked his tongue.

"I raised my voice. Whatever, let's just go." She followed him up the stairs, noting their luck and making him hum along in agreement - it was something he’d never know had made her knees feel like jelly. To her next question of what they would do now, he had an answer at the ready. "I'm bringing you to my office. We dress you up and send you off to town." There was a pause on her end, then a ‘why’ Levi considered rather stupid. "Because you can't stay here."

"Did you forget why you brought me here yesterday?" Her inquiry made him frown but it was just so it wouldn’t betray his ‘oh shit’ face. "Maybe because I had no home at the time?" She pressed further, making him curse as he turned to face her. “You did forget.” Her blunt statement made him snort, rolling his eyes and deciding to play it cool.

"And what of that?" He asked, annoyed and with his arms crossed.

"Well, it intervenes with your plan. And you promised me a job. I can find myself a place to stay but it won’t happen fast, so I’m sorry for being insolent but I’m going to hold you to your word.” Hands on her hips, she was glaring and he avoided looking anywhere but her eyes. She was right and he knew it.

"Let's just go to my office. Discussing this in the middle of the hallway is no good." He commented with a click of his tongue, watching her lips purse as her eyes narrowed. However, she still complied. They passed Erwin’s office, tactfully avoiding the creaky plank and soundlessly slipping in his office. A sigh left his lips as he locked the door.

"Now. You’ll need a plan." (Y/N)'s serious voice helped him shake off the relief he felt. He rolled his eyes, annoyance brimming. He wanted to avoid thinking of a new plan, and the complications that would surely come with it.

"You still need clothes, so we'll find you some. And after that...” He trailed off, making her eyebrow quirk as she waited for his brain to think of the best course of action. “I suppose I’ve got only one choice.” He concluded with a sigh, leaning back against his desk and contemplating. Rumours could spread but it was the only way to keep his word whilst creating the least misunderstandings. “I have to introduce you to everybody.”

"Ready?"

"Never been, never going to be. Let's just do this." Her statement evoked a snort from him as he suppressed the chuckle at the back of his throat. She seemed more nervous than him and it was amusing to say the least. Still, he held out on giving her advice on how to fix it because something told him she wouldn’t manage either way.

The raven-haired male entered the mess hall and she walked at his side; suddenly there were gazes on them, on the baggy clothes she wore that kind of looked to be his size, and whispers slithering round the room. He ignored everything and approached his squad’s table, sitting down and watching before him his usual cup of tea whilst his squad stared at him in bewilderment.

"Uh, Corporal Levi... who is she?" Eren’s hesitant question made Levi glare at the brunet - he was a tad bit anxious but he needn’t admonish his subordinates verbally because of it.

"I'm a friend of Levi's. (Y/N), nice to meet you all." The woman flashed them a smile and voiced a casual introduction before Levi could even begin to speak. He wouldn’t, however, get angry at her, she seemed to be doing well.

"Corporal, I made your tea, it's a bit cold, but---"

"It's fine, Eren." Levi cut him off, taking a sip from mentioned beverage and sighing. So far so good. He briefly glanced at the superiors’ table where he usually sat, finding his Commander’s insistent gaze on him. He wanted to avoid everybody who knew (Y/N) but an encounter was inevitable so he was only stalling even though he was well aware Hanji had already seen them walk in and had probably informed Erwin and Mike of their presence. 

"So, Corporal, how did the ball go yesterday?" Mikasa asked boredly while Eren pouted on her left, disappointed still that he hadn’t been invited. Levi and (Y/N) exchanged an alarmed look but neither gave out their concern. The Corporal looked back at his squad: Jean and Eren were impatient to hear his answer, Mikasa was quiet as per usual, Armin was silently observing, Connie and Sasha were gorging on their food and Ymir and Christa were whispering of other topics.

"Not that it's your business but it was shitty. Eren, you can stop whining about not getting invited, it wasn’t worth it either way." The raven took a sip from his cup, watching the four reactions his words caused. Eren’s face dropped as he dismissed his frustration on the matter, Mikasa visibly became suspicious and Armin’s gaze grew uneasy due to the fact he might’ve already pieced everything together and, finally, (Y/N) snorted with laughter and coughed to cover it up. “What seems to be so funny?” Levi faced her with a scowl.

“That was a complete lie, sir. You almost got drunk, you watched an eating contest and you were hit on multiple times by gorgeous noble ladies. I'm afraid you liked your night out. " (Y/N) explained with a smirk, making Jean and Eren gape as Mikasa and Armin's eyebrows raised to the tops of their foreheads. He glared at (Y/N), noting how she’d omitted to mention herself during the story she told - it was something that ticked him off. And he had no idea why.

"Not like you're one to talk - you did get drunk, you fainted, you danced terribly and about half the males in the hall were undressing you with their eyes." He retorted and she looked at him, visibly surprised, while his subordinates curiously observed their exchange.

"Was that a subtle compliment or just a horrible attempt at an insult?" She asked with a terribly attractive smirk, which wasn't good for his moody insides as of lately. His stomach did loops at random ever since he met her, his heart would sometimes skip a beat and his skin would get irritatingly itchy when she touched him. He couldn’t go on to think normally, an image of her smile always had to interrupt him and it was fucking annoying - this whole thing.

"Neither - it's summing up your night there." He clicked his tongue and watched her smile - exactly the thing he didn’t need after the kind of inner monologue he had.

"Whatever it is, I don't mind it. Although I must thank you for making my night so nice." She added at the end, making his eyes narrow. (Y/N) bit her bottom lip to stop herself from grinning, but it was inevitable and the fact she tried to hide it put Levi at a loss for words. Staring at her face and her eyes there was hardly anything for him to think besides:

Fuck, I think I want to kiss this woman right now. His eyes widened at the notion and his rational mind slapped him so hard he suppressed the urge to turn his head to the side in reality. Instead, he only shook it and cursed himself multiple times while sipping on his tea.

"I've done nothing deserving of your gratitude." Levi mumbled in a cold voice once having calmed down while (Y/N) only smiled at him, this time without saying anything.

He wondered whether he’d actually taken a liking to a woman he met just the night before. He knew nothing of her yet he couldn’t simply ignore her like he usually would - he wanted to learn a bit more. He didn’t think himself a naive fool as to let her influence him to this extent - but then again she couldn’t be a witch either. Had it been any other woman, things would’ve been different - and then it clicked. Things were like this because it was her, because she affected him and because she interfered with how he usually thought and acted. He didn’t know why but one thing was clear and it was something he’d never admit to himself, Hanji, (Y/N), Erwin or anybody else. He’d die before saying it out loud.

"Corporal is everything alright?" Jean Kirstein's voice snapped him out of his thoughts and softened his expression. Levi looked up with a sigh.

"I have something to do." Groaning inwardly, he pushed himself off the bench and stood up, meeting (Y/N)’s worried gaze and hastening to ease her concern. "You stay here and chat with them or whatever. I'll be back." He headed towards Hanji, Erwin and Mike. Before doing anything else, he had to distance himself from (Y/N) and cease all contact with her after his part of the deal was done. For that to happen, he had to talk to his Commander. He’d promised her a job and, under the man who’d loved her or not, he’d get it for her.

"You're in." He stated coldly with crossed arms.

"I am?" She was literally beaming.

"I already said it, idiot. Are you fucking deaf?" He snapped but her grin was still and so was her posture.

"This is great! Now I get to spend time with my friends, I have a job and a home. Thank you so much.” (Y/N) piped excitedly and he only snorted.

"Anyway, until we find a free room for you you’ll be sharing with somebody.” He stated absentmindedly, feeling just a bit ticked off on this particular topic. Not that he had a reason to feel irritation because he’d known her for a day and she didn’t mean anything to him. That was how things should’ve been.

"Hanji?" (Y/N) guessed as she took a seat in the chair in front of his desk and he looked at the papers before him, pretending to read and trying his hardest not to pay attention to her. He reasoned why she wouldn’t be staying with Hanji and she went on to ask if it would be him she’d share a room with. He almost let out a snort and answered her question with a cold ‘no’. “Then who?” She pressed curiously, making him grit his teeth. He didn’t understand what he was so angry with. Maybe himself.

"Erwin."

"You're kidding me." She blurted out, to which he glared at her. She didn't seem overjoyed by the fact she was about to spend an unknown period of time with the handsome, tall and successful man that had feelings for her, instead she looked confused.

"Do I look like I enjoy joking around?" His questioned was a hiss and his eyes were cold and unforgiving. Her brows twitched.

"But Erwin’s the Commander, it’ll be troublesome for me to stay with him." (Y/N) reasoned, (e/c) hues gleaming as she spoke.

"He volunteered to take you in. Guess his feelings aren’t entirely gone." Levi commented after giving a spiteful click of the tongue, making (Y/N)'s eyes narrow at his visage.

"And how do you feel about that?" She inquired curiously, almost as if seeking confirmation on a topic she knew the answer to. The question ticked him off.

"What does that have to do with me?" He was playing unemotional and oblivious - he knew it had a little if not a lot to do with him but he refused to admit it. She shrugged, stating she’d just asked, and, without thinking at all, he got ahead of himself. "It doesn't make me feel anything. Did you expect me to argue with my Commander over you? Assert myself as the person who shelters you? If anything, I feel relieved to finally get you off my case. Whatever fantasies you might be harbouring, the reality is that I escorted you to a ball because I needed somebody and now you may go next door to let Erwin instruct you on your job."

Levi's scowl may have been terribly scary, but on the inside, he was on the verge of hitting himself because of how unreasonably rude he was being to a woman he thought he felt something for. (Y/N)'s reaction wasn't one of shock, nor one of heartbreak - it was one of deep indifference. And indifference was a mask he used all too often to let himself be fooled by it. She was offended and hurt as she stood up and headed to the door, then, with her hand on the doorknob, she turned her eyes to him.

"Just for the record - I expected nothing from you and I harbour no fantasies, you're right when you say Erwin still has feelings for me, but you're wrong when you say you’re impartial. Even if you don't like me, I have to say I took quite the liking to you." He could almost hear how her voice broke at the last word. "I’m just sorry I won’t have the chance to say it to your face as a woman instead of a stupid peasant."

The door closed after her, leaving behind the voice which had betrayed her upon the word ‘peasant’. If he’d known more about her, he would’ve realised how it hurt her to say it because that’s what she’d been her whole life - a faceless nameless stupid peasant. But he didn’t know. He leaned back in his chair after realising he’d tensed with the intention to stand and go after her. Shoulders slumping, he groaned and closed his eyes at the thought of having made her cry. He was getting a headache.

"A lovers quarrel a day after your first meeting. Fucking way to go." He praised himself mockingly and wished to endure the worst headache in existence if it would give him the chance to fix this situation. It was an unrealistic wish but he wanted it nonetheless. He tried beating it into his head that he’d known her for a day but he wanted to see her smile again and it was a pity he probably never would.

He started this conversation so angry and ended it so regretful that it was a pitiful thing to watch.

"Is this your way of saying 'sorry'?" She asked with disbelief as he looked at her with pleading eyes.

"You could say so." He nodded weakly and she snorted.

"It's not romantic at all." She placed her hands on her hips and his brows furrowed as he glared at her.

"Is it supposed to be?" He inquired and she smirked slightly. He hadn’t realised how much he missed that - it had been a goddamn month since it had been directed to him last.

"Of course, after all the indirect insults you threw at me."

"If it makes you feel better if I was still a thug, I'd want to fuck you senselessly." His deadpan statement was an attempt at brightening the mood and it brought him so much more when she began laughing - a month since he’d heard that one too.

"Enough of a compensation. But I don’t get why before is different from now since you’re the same person." Her objection made his eyes narrow - of course they weren’t much different in nature but he couldn’t let himself rush into something he hadn’t had ever. He didn’t need love and support - he’d been fine without them until now. Sex was another thing he could get but preferred not to because she, unlike him, probably connected it to something more emotional. 

"I have boundaries now and I’m more self-conscious." She snorted with laughter once more, though he would be surprised to hear why.

"Of what - the perfect body, the flawless face, the smooth voice or the heart of gold under all the piled-up bad experience?" Her mocking question made it hard for him to distinguish whether she’d meant to tease or compliment him. Maybe both - it sounded like her.

"Of the fact I’m far from flawless yet I'm supposed to be a role model to young cadets. Of the fact I fight and promote that others die as they fight. Of the fact I’m worshipped by kids who don’t really know me, kids I’ll probably outlive." His voice was low and deep, tired, morose. Silence followed. Then (Y/N) nudged his shoulder and he watched her empathetic smile. She couldn’t say anything to make him feel better. "Does this mean you accept my apology?"

"Of course. Who can resist when it’s obvious you’re trying so hard?" (Y/N) chuckled when the raven glared at her but quickly calmed down, only to glance shyly at the ground right after. "I'm sorry, too. I rushed to snap back at you."

"You've nothing to apologise for, I deserved it.” He countered, making her blush slightly before she patted his shoulder with a smile.

"Since we're going to be seeing each other often, let's talk when something like this happens again, alright?" Levi rolled his eyes before nodding - way nonchalant than the furious ‘yes’ pushing at his lips. The small ‘fine’ he uttered earned him one of her grins. His stomach took a turn. He focused on his heartbeat - either it hadn’t skipped or he’d been lucky enough not to have heard it. "But next time be a bit more romantic." She joked whilst getting up, to which he only glared.

"Romantic? More like no thanks. I’m not romantic and will not attempt to become romantic." He stated coldly as they walked out the mess hall and headed towards their respective rooms.

"I can teach you." She suggested with a small shrug and he snorted at her.

"As if you're any better."

"You don't have a way of knowing. I may just be a hidden romantic." (Y/N) flashed him yet another terribly attractive smirk and it would've been a lie to say it didn’t make his heart beat faster but he was adamant not to admit it.

"Or I may just be the princess of the walls." He teased, his voice rid of all emotion. The woman next to him was still able to sense his sarcasm. He rolled his eyes and she slapped his shoulder playfully, laughing and feigning offence - it ended in vain. Maybe he could learn to accept the fact he regarded her in such a way after a few months. Just a few. And maybe if he got the chance he’d tell her too. Or not. He was fine with just watching her smile and , by god, if somebody took that from him he would kill to get it back.

Such determination was so him in spite of the topic, he never understood how all of this became so natural to the point it happened every day.

#levi x reader #levi ackerman fanfiction #reader insert #canon stuffs #watch this sequel be almost as ooc as the first part #or wayyyy more #dunno #let's assume i can't write and levi is especially soft in this one

[themysteriousauthor18]

Your worth it [Radiodust oneshot]

"Care to explain why you are late again this evening." 

"I toldja I was out with someone!" 

This isn't what Angel needed right now. He just got back to the hotel and it was a little over midnight. 12:05 to be precise. Clearly, Alastor had an issue with it. Since Vaggie nor Charlie could get him to follow that curfew, Alastor had been put in charge. 

It wasn't like he hadn't been trying to get back in time, but it didn't matter how hard he tried. 

Naturally, Charlie and Vaggie were also in the room, standing behind Alastor watching as he tore Angel apart, metaphorically of course. Vaggie scoffed crossing her arms and rolled her eyes. Normally Charlie, who was behind her, would have intervened but she seemed to justify it this time.

What a load of bullshit was that?

"So you were out with another of your 'clients.'" Alastor asked his tone firm.

With the day Angel had that tone sounded smug which only pissed him off more when in reality it was just how Alastor talked and merely a simple question. He just wanted to go to his room and deal with any punishments later.

Angel crossed his upper set, lower on his hips as he glared right back at the deer demon. "Maybe it was a fuckin' guy who was takin' me out fa dinner you don't fucking know!"

Alastor laughed, "right. Like anyone would date you, a slut." 

"Alastor!" Charlie interjected her eyes growing wide at the clear overstep. 

"What? I am merely stating facts, my dear. You truly believe anyone in their right mind would actually compliment him on anything besides his sexual favors? Give him flowers, or even give him a letter that isn't-"

"Alastor enough." Charlie sternly said, eyes meeting her business partners. Alastor didn't understand what the big deal was, that was until he looked back at Angel dust.

He wasn't crying, no of course not. But his eyes held a clear gloss over them. Nails dug into his arm and clothing but the look on his face practically spat venom.

It was then he realized he'd gone too far. He didn't know what to say, 'sorry' obviously was appropriate. But no words found their way to his mouth as he stared at that expression.

"Angel, Alastor didn't mean it. I'm sure anyone would wanna-"

The arackniss laughed it off as he quickly brushed by, the bar cat watched from his place behind the counter. Eyes just as wide as Charlie's and even Vaggie who knew it had gone too far. 

"No he's right.," Angel muttered, voice strained. "Who'd eva love a slut like me. It's all I'm good for is sex."  

"Angel that's not what he was saying!" Charlie tried but Angel was already walking out of the room, making the excuse of feeling tired and needing to sleep. Though it wasn't entirely false. 

Alastor stared at the spot Angel had been in, only turning once the spider had left the room. His smile tightened and although the others couldn't see, his nails dug into the palms behind his back.

"Alastor that was so mean! You shouldn't say such hurtful things!" Charlie said with a disapproving frown.

Vaggie wrapped an arm around her girlfriend shaking her head as she pulled her away. Even Husk was shaking his head at the radio demon before turning his back away and chugging down some alcohol. 

The demon sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. Perhaps he had gone too far. 

"You gotta fix that. Kids not gonna be too happy with you if you don't at least say sorry." Husk announced. 

Alastor looked back at the hall. "..Yes, perhaps you're right." Although he didn't doubt what he said was true, it was uncalled for. 

The redhead briskly walked out of the lobby and down the hall to Angel's room. Near the end, he stopped at one of the many doors and gently knocked. It sounded quiet, normally he would have heard some sort of music from inside or something breaking from the other times Angel had lashed out.

There was no response to the knock, understandable. So he tried again, this time hearing shuffling from inside followed by a hiss of some sort. He took a step back, folding his hands behind his back, and waited. But when there was no answer to the door, nor any indication that there would be, he decided to speak.

"Angel? This is Alastor." No response. "I recognize that what I had said may have been out of line and I would like to apologize." Still no response. 

The redhead sighed and shook his head. "Angel? Are you there?" At times Alastor wasn't great at picking up on social cues, right now was one of those times. 

He was apologizing, isn't that what Angel desired? Why not simply open the door and accept it? Then they could be on their merry way. 

Alastor took a step back, deciding it best to just leave the spider to his tantrum. But when he heard the all too audible footsteps followed by the door opening he turned back. 

Angel stood in the doorway, his usual attire wrinkled, mascara running down his white fur eyes puffy and red. A blanket was lazily draped around his shoulders held up by his top set while the bottom held himself. 

Alastor simply flashed his usual smile, the fake one. "Ah there you are, I hope there are no hard feelings between us. You do understand that-" 

"Your fucking fake Alastor!" Angel suddenly yelled.

His words caught Alastor off guard, he couldn't remember the last time someone had dared speak to him in such away. The last person who had ended up being his dinner for the night. 

His eyes narrowed, grin widening. "You are certainly one to talk Angel. You are the very definition of it." Alastor spat back. 

Angel's grip around the blanket tightened, baring his own teeth. "Oh, you just came ta insult me some more hah!? Your only apologizing 'cause Charlie got on ya fuckin' ass for it! I don't need your damn pity! I know what I am I don't need you to fucking tell me!" 

Alastor for the first time in years found himself at a loss for words. And before he could gather any the door was being slammed in his face with enough force to cause his monocular to fall off. 

He rolled his eyes, the spider would calm down in time. He always did, this would all blow over in a few days.

It didn't. 

1 week had passed and while Angel seemed back to his usual self it was clear he now had some strong animosity towards the radio demon. Whether he'd always had it and was now showing it, or it was the result of their argument was undecided. 

He behaved normally towards everyone else in the hotel, drinking with Husk, helping Charlie out where he could, and only occasionally messing with Vaggie. 

But Alastor, he wouldn't even look at the man. And when the radio demon directly approached him he would walk off. 

It was no secret, everyone had noticed it including Alastor. 

Angel would only occasionally hit on the radio demon and that was whenever the redhead approached him or he was told to. Otherwise, they didn't speak, that had been how things were between them before all of this. 

Truly, it was a blessing to no longer have those comments. At least, he thought it would be. He didn't miss him, no no. To miss someone you had to enjoy their company in the first place. 

No, it was...simply exhausting. 

With Angel being the hotel's prime and first client there was a lot of advertisement involved. And quite a lot of times Alastor or Charlie would handle them, lately, Charlie had to handle them since the spider wouldn't even speak to Alastor. 

Truly it was just, problematic. 

"Your gonna have to fix this," Husk told, pouring a generous glass of whisky. He'd need it.

"Yes Husker I am well aware," Alastor replied, sipping the drink. 

"And you tried apologizing?" The cat poured a glass for himself. 

"Yes, but the stubborn fool wouldn't accept it. He insists on fighting about this when there is truly no point in it." Alastor shook his head as if it were all so crystal clear.

Husk gave him a look as he leaned on the bar. "I know your new to friends and everything-"

"He is no friend of mine," Alastor said into his glass.

"Yeah, sure." Husk grumbled. "But you can't just say something like that and expect them to forgive you just like that. Not how people work kid." 

Alastor scoffed at the term, even if Husk was older than him he didn't like being addressed as such. "Then what am I supposed to do? Hm? This little tantrum of his has become quite troublesome for my work."

Husk rolled his eyes as he finished his drink, refilling it. He knew what Angel was feeling wasn't a tantrum and was justified, but he knew Alastor too. He wasn't going to listen, he'd have to just learn the hard way. 

"Figure it out. Your problem, you clean it up." 

Alastor's eyes glowed, an obvious annoyance behind them. But Husk knew as well as he that the radio demon wouldn't kill him. Not unless he crossed a line. The cat didn't fear death but welcomed it, so there wasn't much he could do to punish him or scare him. 

Husk met his glare, not backing down or cowering like most of hells citizens would in this situation. He'd stared death in the face during life more times than he could count, he wasn't about to cower just because some pissy deer man was glaring at him. 

After a moment, Alastor huffed and shot back the rest of his drink before setting it down on the counter. As per usual, Husk was right. 

"Fine. I shall think of something." Alastor grumbled as he pushed off the bar and begun walking towards the exit. 

"Good luck." Husk offered as Alastor left the hotel for the afternoon. 

He didn't know what day it was, nor the month. Then again time was irrelevant in hell.  All he knew was that he was tired and wanted to sleep. 

It had been another hard day at the studio filled with its usual challenges and little rewards. With the shooting for his new film coming out, the clients and then having to deal with Valentino's horrible attitude, it was all too much for today.

Not to mention his temper that had gotten him into trouble in the first place and the bruises on his face. Make-up would cover it up, or at least that was Valentino's excuse. 

The spider trudged to his door, the sky had darkened long ago. Sleep. That's all he wanted. 

Walking to his room he expected a lot of things, mainly Charlie ambushing him and trying to convince him to 'make up' with Alastor. He didn't see the point, it was Alastor who had crossed the line, to begin with. And frankly, he no longer wanted to deal with the man.

When he reached the door of his room, something greeted him that he did not expect. 

Sitting on the floor in front of his door lay a red envelope closed with a wax seal. 

With a grown, lower pair holding himself, he leaned down and picked up the envelope walking into his room with it. Fat nuggets greeted him, the only highlight of his day. He picked up the small pig in his lower set and sat himself down on the bed. 

He switched his lamp on as he settled onto his small pink bed. It wasn't the best but it was something, and that's what mattered, to him at least. 

He sighed as he removed the seal and opened the envelope. It was probably one of his creepy fans sending him another letter. He didn't mind it, it came with the job. What he did mind was that they were being sent to his room in the hotel. He wanted this to be a place where he could get away from that, not having to deal with it still.

Oh well.

As he pulled the red? A red paper? Okay, that was strange.

As he pulled the red paper from the envelope, discarding that he turned it over in his hands, his brows knitting together in confusion. It wasn't a letter about how much this person loved his body, movies, or any of that, hell there weren't even any stains on it. It wasn't even a letter.

It just had a single sentence written on it in neat cursive. 

You are nice

Angel wasn't sure how to feel about this. His first thought was that this was a prank, but then remembered nobody in the hotel pulled pranks, except maybe Nifty. But she didn't talk with him much.

Maybe it was sent to the wrong place? 

Angel shook his head, far too tired to try and figure this out. Still, even if it wasn't meant for him the note was nice even if he didn't believe it or if it wasn't true. 

He smiled briefly and carefully set the paper on his vanity somewhere where his pig couldn't get it. 

With that out of the way, the spider flopped onto his bed, allowing the much-needed sleep to take him as his mind buzzed around the sentence on the note and the mysterious person who wrote it. 

He thought that was the end of it, but the next evening when he returned from the studio, just like the previous night another letter greeted him in the same spot. Same envelope, same-colored paper, and same hand-writing. 

Doing the same as he had the previous night, he opened the letter again, this time a new sentence greeted him.

You are good

Angel huffed at the message, if this was an accident then it was a nice one. If there had been an address anywhere he would have perhaps written back and let them know of the mix-up. But there wasn't.

Still, he enjoyed it while it lasted. He was sure the person they were intended for would notify the other that they weren't getting them and this would end, but for now he would enjoy it. 

As the days went on, Angel continued to get a new letter each day upon returning to his room. Each and every single one held the same red paper and envelope and always had just one sentence neatly written in cursive on it.

At first, the messages seemed awkward but with each new one, they appeared more genuine than the last.

You are smart

You are brave

You are strong 

You are powerful 

And then those notes branched off into longer messages with more emotion behind them.

You glow brighter than any star.

You are incredibly selfless 

Your smile is a rare and beautiful site. 

And then came the latest one...

You are worth it.

This had been going on for another week at the very least and Angel found himself looking forward to them. He didn't know who they came from, but he could imagine that they were meant for him.

"Whatever you did must be working," Husk muttered from behind the bar. Alastor sat on the other side, sipping his whisky as he worked on some papers.

"What makes you say that?" He asked, not looking up from his work.

  Husk was polishing a glass as he looked to the redhead. "Kids seemed more chipper than usual. He left this morning smiling like an idiot and actually wanted to help that princess with cleaning yesterday. What did you do put a spell on him?"

Alastor chuckled, sipping his drink a more genuine smile falling on his lips. "No. Merely an....experiment you could say." One that seemed to be working. 

Truthfully the first few had been just cliche greetings and compliments, but in his more...recent ones, they had been rather genuine. 

Angel still refused to speak to him, but that was fine. He wasn't outright walking away whenever he got close to him now, but still wouldn't talk. 

He couldn't help but observe Angel these past days, noticing just how kind he could be whenever those rare moments presented themselves. He'd offered to help Charlie with cleaning, Nifty with cooking, and even held a decent conversation with Vaggie without fighting. 

And while there were times Angel could be rather vulgar, he found he had his moments where he shined like a star. Just the other evening he'd stumbled upon the spider teaching the princess a bit of dancing, likely during their cleaning. 

Of course, once he was noticed the spider went cold once again. 

It was a side that he didn't know Angel could have. And it fascinated him. 

"Hey Husky~" The voice came from behind, Alastor didn't bother turning already knowing who it was. 

The cat rolled his eyes as the spider strolled up to the bar, hopping onto one of the stools, noticeably away from the redhead who he pretended wasn't there. 

"The fuck do you want." Husk grumbled, per usual.

Angel wasn't affected, he was wearing a dress today, and his make up a little heavier. He'd just gotten back. "A drink~" He purred.

Husk shook his head with a groan as he got to work on getting the spider a drink.

Alastor kept his gaze off the spider, knowing it wasn't wanted nor was he. But he wasn't going to move just because Angel was here, he had work to do. 

As Husk prepared the drink, Angel leaned on the bar a small smile on his lips. He did appear more chipper, but with Alastor there, it did make things a bit awkward. 

"You look like haven just accepted your ass. What you get some good dick for once?" Husk asked, placing the pink drink in front of Angel. 

The spider hummed, sipping the straw lightly as he maintained that smile. "Nah, but let's go with that." 

Husk shrugged, not prying. It wasn't his business, but he already knew why the spider was behaving this way and who was behind it. Not that he was going to say anything. 

"I'll be right back." Husk grumbled, turning to leave the bar. Angel piped up, alarmed as he grabbed the cat's arm.

"Were ya goin' Husky? You don't wanna hang with me?" Angel said, batting his eyes but the anxiety was there.

Husk gave him a look. "Can't I fuckin' take a leak? Damn. You're a big boy you'll be fine." He grumbled as he pulled his arm away.

It was an excuse but the pair needed an obvious talk and he sure as hell wasn't going to be around for it. 

Angel frowned as Husk left the room, leaving just him and the radio demon alone at the bar. He slumped down against the bar, keeping his eyes on the drink. His stomach churned, he wanted to get up and leave but at the same time knew he had to confront this eventually.

Just not today. 

At least that was his excuse, he would finish his drink and then go back to his room. He was never good at confrontation.

Alastor knew what Husk was doing and didn't miss the fear in Angel's voice. Not fear of him, but for being alone with him. 

He closed his eyes, sighing, and set the papers aside. This confrontation was inevitable, it was bound to happen eventually. 

The redhead looked to his side, only noticing just how Angel was dressed. It was tacky at best, but that was only because he found Angel more appealing without all the make-up. It was that raw bare-bone self that he enjoyed seeing. 

The real Angel, not this facade. 

He cleared his throat, watching for any indication that Angel wanted to speak to him. He flinched but didn't look his way. Of course.

Lord, what was he supposed to say in this situation. 

"You are wearing quite a lot of make-up today.." Not that.

Angel frown turned into a scowl at the comment but didn't offer a reply, hit pace on the drink quickened. 

"Not that there's anything wrong with that..." Alastor quickly added it didn't seem to help. 

Angel shook his head, finishing his drink. "You can tell Charlie to stop pressuring you I'll fuckin' tell her I forgive you." Even though he didn't. 

Alastor's smile faltered as Angel pushed off the bar and started for the hall, a week back he would have let him go. Wouldn't have cared but this time for whatever reason, he did to some extent. Whether it was the desire to be forgiven or to no longer have that cold towards him.

He quickly followed after the spider who was briskly walking down the hallway. He had to say something. So in this moment of panic and limited time frame, his mind decided to blur out,

"You're worth it!" 

He mentally smacked himself. 

He didn't know if the reaction was positive or not, but he caused the spider to stop dead in his tracks. 

Alastor ground his teeth together at the deafening silence that lasted for five minutes at the very least. He was truly contemplating just turning around and leaving the hallway, pretending this never happened. 

But refrained from doing so when Angel turned and looked at him, not with anger but pure confusion. 

"What." He finally said. 

Alastor hesitated, cursing at the ears on his head folding back at his anxiety bubbling up in his chest. He swore these feelings were destroyed long ago.

"You... you're worth it." He slowly repeated. 

Angel just stared, wide-eyed as the gears in his head worked to click the pieces together. Alastor stood like a statue, his body tense. 

"You wrote those notes," Angel said his voice strained. Alastor opened his mouth to reply but was at a loss for words. "Seriously!?" Angel's voice raised as he spun around, not marching up to Alastor and aggressively poking his chest. "You think it's fuckin' funny playing these pranks on me!? Huh! Your pretty fucking sick Alastor!" 

"Angel let me explain please!" Alastor's voice raised, something that didn't happen very often if at all.

Angel was back to glaring at the deer demon, he clicked his tongue and crossed his arms. "You got five minutes." 

He didn't know why he felt the need to explain himself, or maybe he did know why and just didn't want to acknowledge it. Either way, he wanted to try at the very least to mend the tear in whatever it was they had.

"I'm not very good with words nor emotions." Alastor started with, ears still pressed down against his head, showing his true feelings despite the now smaller smile on his lips. 

He continued, "I am not very good with people. Their desires yes..but not truly befriending them." 

"Four minutes," Angel stated bitterly.

"What I said to you crossed a line." 

"Yeah, it did." 

"But I did not mean to offend you. Even if it appeared that way, Husker aside, I've never met someone such as you either Angel. Someone who has no problem putting me in my place and not fearing me. I am not sure what to say that could mend what I've said nor am I sure there is anything I could say except, I'm sorry. And Charlie is by no means forcing me to this, it's all my own choice." 

Angel sighed, his eyes glued to Alastor and that expression. "I don't know if I can forgive you right now.." Angel muttered. 

"I understand," Alastor answered calmly. 

"Why the notes..was that just a game." 

Alastor shook his head. "I wanted to apologize, but I didn't know how. Even if I am not forgiven I believe it's only right that you deserve some sort of happiness here." 

A silence fell between them as Angel processed it all and Alastor tried to maintain eye contact, resisting the urge to walk away. 

"Didja mean it," Angel asked, an uncharacteristically serious look to those mismatched eyes. "Your notes." 

"At first, no." He answered honestly. "But the more I wrote them they began to become genuine." 

Angel huffed shaking his head. "You got a crush on me or somethin' Smiles?" He joked, lightly. 

Alastor smile tightened. "I don't know." His answer was honest and vulnerable something Angel didn't expect.

Angel colors tinted red in surprise. "Uh.." 

Alastor looked away, his own face turning a shade of red. "You are..different, and it's intriguing." 

Angel scoffed, unraveling his arms. "Yeah, I'm different alright. Sex worker 'in shit." 

"Yes, you are.." Alastor looked up. "But I've come to realize that you are far more than that. That you are indeed worth it." 

Angel's lips turned up into a small smile, the genuine tone in the deer's voice being more than enough of an indication that he was being truthful this time. 

"I'll consider forgivin' ya. But this is a good start." Angel offered, and Alastor perked up a visible light in his eyes if those ears perking up too were any indication. 

That was cute.

"Would dinner perhaps help?" Alastor offered his face reddening.

"Hm, I'll think about it," Angel said with an obvious smile. "Gal needs 'er beauty sleep though." 

"Ah-yes, right," Alastor said nervously. "Well, goodnight Angel." 

"Goodnight Alastor," Angel called back as they turned their opposite ways down the hallway.

The next morning Angel awoke to another note on his nightstand, and this time, a red rose sat beside it. 

Angel beamed as he opened the note finding the following message written in neat cursive:

You are an Angel.

#radiodust #angel x alastor #alastor #angel #oneshot

[southernlynxx]

Charthur Week ‘21

Prompt: Patching-up Wounds Rating: Gen Tw: Non-graphic description of non-serious injuries.

Notes: Thanks to @charthurweek for hosting this event! I’m not a charthur shipper myself, but I do think it’s important to support fandom events. Plus, it certainly never hurts to create more content and push the boat out with your writing! 😄

---

“So, explain to me again what happened?”

Arthur heaves an irritable sigh, and Charles knows he’s pushing his luck. He smirks anyway since Arthur can’t see him over his shoulder.

“You thought you were tracking a deer?” Charles prompts evenly, spreading the salve he’d warmed in his hand over Arthur’s exposed shoulder blade. The skin is raw and badly grazed, like he’d been dragged across stone, and Arthur blows out a slow, hissing breath at his touch.

“I was tracking a deer,” he mutters, and he’ll never admit to the petulant tone which has Charles huffing a quiet laugh.

“This must have been some deer.”

Arthur turns his head just enough to give Charles a dirty side-eye over his shoulder, to which Charles innocently raises an eyebrow.

“It was the bear that was also tracking the deer that was the problem,” he grunts, grimacing as Charles presses a wad of gauze against the wound and begins to bandage it in place. Despite the size and strength of the man, Charles’ work was steady and delicate, never adding more pressure than necessary. Although Arthur was hardly delicate himself, he appreciated the care taken. He was still feeling pretty beat-up after the run in the with grizzly – the way his ribs ached when he stood up or sat down, and the pulsing headache that had been pressing against his skull for hours since his head had connected with solid rock.

He jolts when Charles’ hand squeezes his shoulder, looking up to find the man peering down at him with a frown.

“Are you ok? You’re squinting.”

“Yeah, just a headache,” he mutters back, running his bandaged hand through his hair. With little more than a quiet hum Charles disappears behind him, and Arthur is surprised when the light in the tent dims. He swivels on the edge of his cot to see Charles turning down the lantern to the slightest flame, casting the tent in a low, atmospheric glow.

“Better?” he asks, and Arthur swallows, nodding mutely. The space inside his tent suddenly feels much smaller and more intimate than he remembers it being moments ago.

“Thank you – for patching me up,” he says, clearing his throat to dispel the sudden tightness. He doesn’t know if Charles notices as he fumbles with his shirt and shrugs it back on.

“Of course, Arthur,” Charles returns, and he can feel the weight of those profoundly dark eyes boring into him. The intensity is exhilarating in ways he can’t explain. “If you need anything you call me, alright?”

Charles voice dips to a lower timbre, rich and enticing, and Arthur’s eyes snap up to meet Charles own, the air between them suddenly feeling charged with something, something nameless and exciting, but equally warm and familiar.

“I will,” he promises.

After one last penetrating look, Charles leaves and seems to take all the air from Arthur’s lungs with him.

Bewildered, he raises a hand to his cheek and finds it hot the touch. His blush deepens with realisation, and Arthur briefly wonders if it was too soon to call Charles back.

#charthurweek2021 #charthurweek #charthur #charles smith #arthur morgan #rdr2

[ezrasarm]

Ezra and Cee end up living together because Ezra is totally a cool uncle/willing to train her in prospecting (less dangerous jobs only now that he has a psuedo daughter ans one arm). But he also encourages her to complete her studies. Enter a private tutor who is going to help Cee complete the equivalant of Space!A levels/GED. Ezra can't help but be smitten and won't stop interrupting the lessons. Cee is irritated at Ezra's brainu flirting, tutor is mostly oblivious until she isn't. 😉

Electrostatic Attraction

Pairing: Ezra x Reader

Word count: 2.5K

Warnings: 10 ply super soft fluff, chemistry both literally and figuratively, a lack of proofreading

A/N: Sorry it took me a bit to get this out! I had to dig back deep into the traumatic memories of studying for IB chemistry for this one. Also it’s been a while (and I sucked at it then) so don’t quote me on any of this stuff 😂.

“I didn’t know we were expecting company.” Ezra said, a charming grin gracing his lips as he appeared in the doorway with a hefty bag slung over his shoulder. He’d been away on a job for the past week. Nothing too complicated. Just enough to keep the two of them afloat while Cee was finishing up her studies.

“I thought you weren’t supposed to be back until Thursday.” Cee said, glancing up from her textbook only slightly surprised to see him so soon.

“Finished up early.” He said, allowing the bag to slide off his arm onto the floor as he made his way inside. “Nice to see you too, Kid.” Ezra prompted her only to get an eye roll in response. “You gonna introduce me to your friend here or am I gonna have to make our acquaintance myself?” He asked with a charismatic chuckle as he nodded over at you. He’d swear he was being discreet but Cee didn’t miss the way his eyes dragged over you where you were sat in the seat next to her. She’d never seen Ezra’s interest peaked like this so the shift in behaviour caught her a little off guard.

“Right...” Cee squinted at him skeptically for a moment before shaking off the initial shock. “Ezra, this is (Y/n), my tutor. (Y/n), this is Ezra, my...” Cee scrunched up her face a little to consider her words for a moment before shrugging. “I don’t know, he’s just Ezra.” She finally decided.

“Pleasure to meet you.” You said with a polite smile as you got up, extending your hand to shake before realizing his wasn’t there and quickly switching hands. This earned you a hearty laugh and a wide smile as he accepted the gesture.

“The pleasure is all mine.” He responded, shaking your hand for a tad longer than customary only for Cee to cough and give him a chiding glare from over your shoulder which told him it was time to let go. “Right, don’t let me distract you two.” He nodded curtly with a smile, his hand raised in mock surrender before disappearing into the galley.

“Sorry about him. He’s not usually like that.” Cee said as the two of you got settled again.

You weren’t quite sure what she meant by that but you shrugged the comment off with a “He seems nice.” Before nodding back at the past paper the two of you had been going through. “Where were we again?” You asked, still slightly flustered by the interaction. You could feel a flush had risen to your cheeks and you weren’t entirely sure why.

“sp3d hybridization.” She reminded you. There she was. Always on the ball. Why did she need you here again? You thought before snapping back into it.

“Right. So you know what I’m gonna ask you.” You said and she peered back at you expectantly. “Bond angles?” The blank expression on her face persisted and despite knowing she knew what you were talking about you folded. It was your job to solidify this information in her head after all. “Okay, so say we’ve got a substance like phosphorus pentachloride. So that’s a single phosphorus atom and five chlorines bonded with polar covalent bonds. And they’re polar because...” You prompt her.

“Chlorine has greater electronegativity than phosphorus.” She finishes for you and you give her a subtle high-five and an approving nod as you go on.

“Right, and each of those chlorine atoms have equal partial negative charges which makes them want to get as far away from each other as possible while still clinging to that phosphorus.” You explain and she nods as though that’s obvious. “So how are those five chlorines going to configure themselves around that phosphorus so that they are all equidistant from one another?” You ask and she squints at you for a moment as she tries to work it out. “Sketch it out.” You remind her, tapping the pad of paper in front of her already filled with scribbles of chemical formulae, Lewis structures and ball and stick models, knowing she works better when she can visualize what she’s talking about. Unbeknownst to either of you Ezra had since appeared in the doorway a fond smile toying at his features as he watched the two of you giggle over the way you tripped up saying “trigonal bipyramidal symmetry” and you challenging her to try saying it five times fast if she was so keen to make you laughing stock for it.

“Okay, you win.” Cee laughed, hands raised in surrender when she blundered her first attempt. Cee liked you, Ezra noted. He noticed the way that she actually acted a bit like a kid around you. She treated you like a friend, not a teacher and he wondered how you did it. He could see you had invested a genuine care and concern in your work which was a rarity nowadays, one which gently tugged at his heartstrings as he took the scene in.

“Alright, review time!” You declare as you notice the time. You always liked to round back to some basics when you finished up your sessions so that she left things on a high note and you really cemented those foundational concepts in place. “So hydrogen bonds.” You cue her and she sighs.

“Haven’t we gone over this five times today?” She asked.

“Then you should be five times better at explaining them than you were when we started.” You say and she gives you a challenging stare for a moment before she nods in defeat and rattles off an unsurprisingly accurate definition of the intermolecular force.

“And London dispersion forces?” You ask and she astounds you once again.

“Last but not least, dipole-dipole interactions- and if you don’t get this I’ve completely failed you as a tutor.” You say.

“The electrostatic attraction between the positive and negative ends of molecules with permanent dipole moments.” Ezra speaks up from the doorframe and you jump slightly at the sound of the baritone in the room before a smile sets on your face. He couldn’t seem to rip his gaze off of that upwards quirk to your lips. Even after such little interaction there was something about you that drew him to you like a magnet. You were smart and quick witted. He could tell that already from watching you bicker with Cee, not unlike he usually did himself. Not to mention you were devilishly good looking, especially in that sage green wrap dress you were wearing that hugged you in all the right places and showed off just the right amount of skin. Few people wore dresses anymore, at least not in his circles, and the custom was striking to him. It made him nostalgic and reminded him of home.

“That’s... correct.” You say after turning to face him fully. You hadn’t had the time to notice how good looking he was when you were first introduced but now that he’d changed from the bulky suit he was wearing when he first came in and he’d cleaned himself up a little, you could actually take in his ruggedly handsome features. Soft warm eyes, a patch of platinum blonde just at the cowlick where his hair parted, a prominent nose, a faint scar on his cheek and a smattering of facial hair across his jawline and upper lip. Maybe it was the laugh lines around his eyes or the seemingly constant perk to the corner of his mouth but something about his demeanour commanded you to be completely enraptured by him.

“Please, make no mind of me, I didn’t mean to interrupt.” And it’s only now that you realized you must have been staring at the poor man. Your face burns bright red with embarrassment as you try to collect your thoughts again.

“No, not at all! I uh- we were just wrapping up.” You stammer out as you begin collecting your things into a neat pile in front of you.

“Cee,” Ezra says and her head flicks up immediately from where it had been buried in her palms the moment he started speaking. “I was about to order takeout, have you got any preferences- say, (y/n) was it?” He asked, even though he knew quite well what your name was. It hadn’t stopped playing on his phonological loop since the moment he’d heard it. God, his voice- the way he said your name almost made you swoon as you went to nod. “You should join us.” He says simply and Cee’s eyes widen like a deer in headlights before she just about snaps her neck turning to look at you.

“Oh, I shouldn’t-“ You begin but he’s waving the the excuse out of your head before you can even come up with it.

“That is if a bewitching woman such as yourself doesn’t have any prior arrangements.” He suggests and Cee is just about ready to hurl her textbook at him if that will get him to shut up any faster. Have you mentioned that you’re blushing yet?

“No, no plans. I-“ You start to say before glancing over at Cee who has a look of controlled horror adorned on her face. ‘She’ll forgive me’ you think to yourself before speaking. “I’d love to.” You say. Ezras pre-existing smirk widens into a broad grin.

“Ezra, come help me find the menus!” Cee declares almost immediately, before leaping up and dragging him by the wrist into the kitchen leaving you slightly dumbfounded in your place.

“You can’t just invite her over for dinner, she has a life of her own-“ She manages to simultaneously whisper and shout once their out of earshot. “Why is your hair wet? Did you shower?” Cee asked bringing her hand up to jostle his mop of damp hair. “For her?!” She just about hissed, pointing back out in the direction of the living/dining area where you were sat.

“What? I just got in from a dig! You expect me to sit around in that filth all day?” He questioned, attempting to deflect her accusation.

“Normally you just pass out on the couch the minute you get in- Ugh, Ezra! My tutor? Really?!” She scolds him and his face softens before he speaks again.

“Just humour me. It’s been...” He pauses a moment as he considers the last time he’s felt this way about someone. “Too long.” He finally decides and Cee scrunches up her face.

“Ew!” She exclaims remembering the way his eyes had traced down your body when you first introduced yourself.

“Not like that!” He reprimanded her, giving her a light swat on the shoulder. “Although, that too.” He shrugs after second thought. This time Cee is the one to whack his arm with the rolled up stack of takeaway menus, but far harder than he had her. “Ow! You pack quite the punch there little bird!” He winces through a soft chuckle before his face falls again and they enter an undeclared staring match, Ezra straightening up and squinting at her slightly when he realizes he’s being challenged.

“Fine! But you have to quit it with the ‘bewitching woman’s and the poorly veiled chemistry innuendo.” She points a finger at him.

“Chemistry innuendo? I gave a definition!” He exclaimed defensively.

“Really Ezra? Electrostatic attraction?” She drawled out like he had. “You don’t think we already know perfectly well where you want to put your lone pair of electrons?” She retorted, eyebrows raised accusingly.

“I don’t sound like that- What does that even mean?!” He squeaks out before he shakes the thought away and refocuses. “Cee,” he sighs. “I do not supplicate much of you often...” he drags out, eyes pleading down at her, who has her arms crossed on her chest.

“Don’t fuck this up.” She says after far too long and Ezra doesn’t even care to correct her language. “I have to see that woman on a daily basis and I will not have you coming in and screwing up my chances of passing chemistry.” She says, waving the menus threateningly at him once again.

“You have my word.” He nods diligently, raising his hand to lay against his chest before Cee storms back out of the kitchen with almost the same intensity as when she entered and Ezra takes a moment to collect himself before following.

It didn’t take too long for the three of you to decide on your order. There wasn’t all that much variety to choose from on the station, no matter how large it boasted itself to be. Your order was ready in a manner of minutes and Cee practically sprinted to the door claiming she would pick it up to escape what she swore was the most embarrassing interaction of her life, watching the back and forth between you and Ezra like the worlds most awkward ping pong match. She was surprised you hadn’t run screaming from the room at Ezra’s completely unsubtle and unpracticed flirting and his off the cuff, frivolous compliments to you but the truth was, you found them extremely endearing. His entire face lit up with pride when you commented on the book collection you’d noticed last time you were here. When you pointed out a favourite or yours that you’d noticed the spine of which was almost completely worn down on his eyes just about bugged out of his head as he pulled it off the shelf to show you that almost every single page had been filled with scribbles and annotations he’d added in the many times he’d reread it. By the time Cee got back, the two of you had managed to inch closer together from the opposite ends of the couch you’d occupied earlier. You were both keeled over in fits of hysterical laughter at some story you were telling about a misunderstanding that occurred with a pupil and their father when you first started private tutoring sessions. You hadn’t even realized your hand had come to grasp his knee as you tried to steady yourself. Just looking at the two of you Cee could have sworn you’d known each other forever. Something about the scene in front of her seemed so natural as she tried to remember why she was so horrified by the idea of you getting along so well in the first place. When you could finally breathe well enough to acknowledge her she set the bag of takeout on the table in front of you before jerking her thumb over her shoulder.

“I uh-“ she gaped for a moment. “I just ran into a friend outside the uh... place. I was gonna go hang out with her for a bit- but you two should eat without me while it’s still hot.” She suggests before either of you can even protest.

“Sure thing.” Ezra nods, still beaming from his most recent laughing fit, he almost misses the wink Cee shoots him before bouncing out the door. ‘That little minx’ he thinks to himself as she disappears from sight leaving just the two of you and the makings of what you would later refer to as your first date.

Masterlist

Taglist (let me know if you’d like to be added)

@ezraslittleblondestreak @agirllovespasta @chaoticspaceidiot @engineeredfiction @pedropascalito @dreamgirl-67 @wickedfrsgrl @hillarymurray4 @din-damn-djarin

#ezra x reader #prospect #pedro pascal #fanfiction #oneshot #request #prospect 2018 #ezra prospect #ezra fanfiction

[relv07]

SURPRISE @hallucxnatingblog I WAS YOUR SECRET SANTA ALL ALONG

Your gift is late in typical me fashion, but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless!! You’re such an incredible person and I feel so lucky to have gotten to know you over the last few months. I hope the holiday season has been treating you well <3

thanks so much to @noragamisecretsantas for running this event!!!

Title: once promised, twice tied

Summary:  Yato and Yukine may have missed Hiyori's birthday, but they're certainly not about to miss her half birthday. 

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28382691

Thump.

“You idiot, you’re going to wake her up!”

“It’s not my fault! You tripped me—”

Ominous thumping and furious whispers at 4 AM would be ample cause for concern for most teenage girls, particularly if the sounds were coming from the direction of her bedroom window. A year ago, Hiyori might have screamed. Now, however, she simply allowed herself a small moment to stare at her dark ceiling and remind herself that suplexing the inevitably tracksuit-clad intruder would probably wake up her parents.

She turned on her bedside lamp and squinted towards her window. Yato had frozen like a deer in the sudden light, one leg in and one out of her window, his shoulders dusted with snow. Yukine was kneeling on the ground, seemingly in the middle of picking up some brightly wrapped packages that had probably been the source of the thumping. Both gave her sheepish smiles.

“...hi, Hiyori,” said Yukine, his voice cracking. Neither he nor Yato moved, as if doing so might incur her wrath.

“Yato,” Hiyori said slowly, sitting up and addressing the likely mastermind of the scheme as if he were a small child. He flinched under her gaze. “It is four in the morning. And,” she added, eyeing the packages on the ground with a hint of wariness, “Christmas was three days ago.”

“I know that,” Yato protested, still straddling her windowsill. His muscles were tensed, like he was debating making a run for it. “We didn’t mean to wake you, it was supposed to be a surprise!”

“What was supposed to be a surprise?” Hiyori brought her legs over to the side of her bed and shivered as cold air hit her skin. “Come in and shut the window, okay? It’s cold out.”

Yato and Yukine exchanged a look before Yato let out a sigh and swung his leg over the sill, shutting the window behind him. Yukine awkwardly stood up beside him, shifting from leg to leg. She noticed that he had removed his shoes by the window to avoid tracking snow inside, and she smiled to herself. Even when they broke into her room in the middle of the night, it was hard to stay mad at them.

“Your birthday was in June, and we missed it, so we thought…” Yukine trailed off, his cheeks turning pink. He shoved his hands into his pockets and ducked his head.

Yato finished the thought with a broad smile. “Happy half birthday, Hiyori!”

Scratch that, it was impossible to stay mad at them. “You didn’t need to do anything. My birthday isn’t that big a deal—”

“We know,” Yukine interrupted her, finally managing to meet her eyes from under the brim of his winter hat. “We figured you wouldn’t want to make a big deal of it, so we were just going to drop off some stuff. We really didn’t mean to wake you.”

“We’ll just leave the gifts here, and you can go back to sleep,” Yato promised. “It’ll be like we were never here.”

So they said, but neither made a move to leave, instead looking at her with matching pairs of puppy dog eyes. Hiyori couldn’t help but smile, her heart suddenly feeling very full. As much as Yato and Yukine bickered, sometimes they were very much alike. “Well,” She pretended to think, placing a finger on her chin. “Since you’re already here, and I’m awake, do you want to watch me open your gifts?”

Both Yato and Yukine’s faces brightened immediately, and she giggled. “Okay, what should I open first?”

“Oh! Before you open anything…” Yato picked up one of the boxes, white with a pink bow on it, and then paused. “Close your eyes first.”

Hiyori obeyed, and after a moment she heard the unmistakable sound of a match being struck, followed by a muttered curse.

“Careful, you’re going to set her house on fire!” Yukine hissed, and Hiyori resisted the urge to open her eyes. Yato may be destructive, but she figured that if anyone could handle his destructive tendencies, it would be Yukine.

“Okay, you can open them now!”

She opened her eyes to find Yato kneeling in front of her, holding a cupcake. It was frosted white and had three little sugar flowers pressed into it, along with a single lit candle. Yato smiled at her, and the flicker of the flame was reflected in his eyes. “Make a wish.”

Her heart was racing, but Hiyori huffed a small laugh. “No charge for this one?”

“Nah,” Yato grinned. “This one’s on the house. Birthday special.”

She screwed her eyes shut. She wasn’t quite sure if gods could hear wishes even if they were thought instead of said, and the thought of Yato hearing what she wished for was embarrassing. But, then again, Hiyori had already told Yato her heart’s dearest wish, many times now. She figured once more couldn’t hurt.

I want to be together forever.

She blew out the candle and opened her eyes to the sound of Yukine clapping. She smiled at him, then noticed that Yato was staring at her, his mouth slightly agape and his cheeks flushed. Hiyori felt a flash of heat on her own cheeks. He had definitely heard her.

But Yukine hadn’t noticed, so he plucked the candle out of the cake. “We made it yesterday. Daikoku helped with the baking, but Yato is weirdly good at decorating cakes.”

“I used to work in a bakery,” Yato supplied. His cheeks were still pink as he offered her the cupcake. “Here, give it a try!”

Hiyori carefully took a bite. It was delicious—vanilla with a sort of whipped cream in the center. It was sweet and light, and made all the better for knowing that Yato and Yukine had made it for her. She beamed at them. “It’s really good! You should try some.”

Yato looked tempted, but Yukine knocked him in the head with his fist. “No thanks, Hiyori. We made it for you.”

“Right, right.” Yato clapped his hands together. “Presents!”

Yukine brought three small packages over, each wrapped in bright red paper— probably leftover Christmas wrappings, not that Hiyori minded. Yato picked up a rectangular package and handed it to Hiyori, who gently set her cupcake on the nightstand. “This one’s from me,” he said proudly. The sparkle in his eye made her a bit apprehensive, but she carefully unwrapped the gift. Inside was a small box that contained a light pink hand-made omamori, complete with a little crown embroidered near the top. While the gift seemed more than a little self-congratulatory—Yukine’s eyeroll showed what he thought of it—it was actually quite beautiful, silk and embroidered with gold thread. She wondered what he had written for the prayer inside.

When she lifted her face to meet his eyes, his expression was oddly muted, but there was sincerity in his gaze. “So I can protect you, even when I’m far away.”

Why did it seem like he was trying to tell her something? She clasped the omamori between her palms; laced her fingers together in prayer. “Thank you, Yato. Just don’t go too far away, okay?”

Don’t go where I can’t follow, she thought. Either of you.

Yukine coughed pointedly and picked up the biggest gift of the three. “Okay, my turn!”

Hiyori accepted it with a hint of reluctance. Yukine worked so hard, and she felt bad thinking that he had spent any money on her. “Yukine-kun, you didn’t have to get me anything.”

“It’s okay,” Yukine said brightly, taking a seat next to Yato and leaning against the nightstand. “You’ve done so much for me...for both of us. I wanted to get you something in return.”

Hiyori smiled at him fondly, thinking of the angry teenage boy she had met a bit over a year ago now. He had come such a long way. All of them had.

“It’s nothing special,” Yukine added hastily as she began to unwrap the gift. “It’s just, um, I noticed you needed a new one.”

It was an eggshell-blue planner with an embossed bird on the cover. Yukine scratched his neck, embarrassed. “I figured you could use it, yknow, to write down memories. So you don’t forg—so you have something to look back on. I hope you like it.”

“I love it,” Hiyori said, fighting the lump in her throat as she clutched the planner to her chest and gave Yukine a soft smile. “And you’re right, I did need a new one. This one is perfect. Thank you, Yukine-kun.”

Yukine smiled back, before letting out a yelp as Yato grabbed him in a headlock and ruffled his hair. “Aww, Yukine-kun, you’re so thoughtful!”

“Let go of me, you asshole! You stink!”

“I do not! I smell great! I took a bath last night—”

“What did you bathe in, your own sweat?!”

Hiyori laughed, but disguised it as a cough when Yato sent her a wounded look. “Hiyori, you don’t think I stink, do you?”

“Um,” said Hiyori. How she felt about Yato’s smell was a subject to be avoided at all costs. “Yukine-kun, what’s the last package?”

“Oh yeah!” Yukine, freed from the headlock, glanced around and frowned. “Huh. Where did it go?”

“Beats me,” Yato said nonchalantly. Yukine immediately glared at him.

“After all that, you’re not going to give it to her?!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about—”

“He spent so much time agonizing over it,” Yukine informed Hiyori. “He wanted to make you something special, and—”

Yato grabbed Yukine’s head and covered his mouth with his hand. “Don’t tell her that, you little sh— ow! He bit me!”

“Well, don’t give it to her if you don’t want to,” Yukine grumbled as Yato cradled his injured hand protectively to his chest. “Just don’t come whining about it to me later.”

“Oh!” Yato said, ignoring his hafuri. “We didn’t sing happy birthday.”

Yukine looked mortified and Yato was nearly off-key in his excitement, but Hiyori thought it was the best rendition of the birthday song she had ever heard.

A little while later found Yukine snoring softly, slumped against the nightstand. Yato removed his jacket and covered him with it as a makeshift blanket. Yukine mumbled something in his sleep, and Yato’s gaze softened. Hiyori couldn’t help but smile as she watched the two; their relationship was so special, and so meaningful for both of them. They looked for all the world like brothers, or maybe even father and son.

“This was his idea,” Yato said quietly, eyes still on Yukine. “He thought it would be nice to do something simple so you wouldn’t get overwhelmed or anything. He spent all day worrying about the cake and everything.”

“This was wonderful, Yato,” said Hiyori, kneeling on the floor beside him. “Really. It was very sweet of you both.”

Yato grinned at her, but the smile faded as he began to fiddle with something in his pocket. “Um. I do have something else to give you, but—”

“You don’t have to do anything else,” Hiyori assured him. “This was more than enough.”

“No,” Yato insisted. “I...I want to give this to you. I just, um, got embarrassed.”

With that, he removed the package from his pocket— square, and very small. He held it out to her, blue eyes bright. “Happy birthday.”

Hiyori’s breath hitched when she opened the gift. Inside the box, lying on a bed of velvet, was a simple gold ring. It was thin and delicate, with a small white stone set in the middle. Hiyori felt suddenly very dizzy. Yato had jokingly proposed marriage before, but this… “Yato…”

“It’s not an engagement ring or anything,” Yato clarified, but he was blushing again. “I just wanted you to have a reminder of me—of us. It’s...a promise. That I won’t run away anymore.”

The room was very warm all of a sudden, and something in Hiyori’s chest tightened as she stared down at the ring. Yato had made this, Yukine said. Yato had spent time forging this ring for her, as a promise for the future— a future they’d share.

Yato had begun to jiggle his leg out of anxiety as Hiyori examined the ring, and by the time she finally looked at him he looked downright terrified. “Okay,” she said simply.

“What?” Yato said, confused, but Hiyori just leaned in and gave him a chaste kiss on the cheek. When she drew back, his face was bright red, and she was sure hers was too. Nonetheless, she slipped the ring on her finger and smiled at him. “I’ll hold you to it.”

#I uh. might edit this more later bc i'm still not happy with it but- #noragami #noragami secret santa 2020 #noragami fanfiction #yatori

[hazbincalifornia]

Prey

Chapter 26: Hunting is fun, right?

Warnings: Mpreg, canon-typical violence.

Likes, replies, and reblogs are all appreciated, both here and on ao3!

Ao3 link

“Why are you wearing a coat?” Moxxie raised an eyebrow as he lowered his binoculars, and Blitzo growled from low in his throat, scrubbing at his eyes.

“Because I’m cold? Seems pretty obvious to me, Moxx.” His teeth chattering together like wind-up monkeys agreed.

“It’s seventy-five degrees out. I checked the weather here before we left to be sure it wasn’t raining, and I can feel it. It’s warm out here.”

“I said that I’m cold. Can’t a man know his own body?” Blitzo tugged the coat tighter around his middle- or at least, as much as he could. The bump had, infuriatingly, nearly outgrown the coat, but that was fine, because it was the one spot on him that wasn’t frozen like a tongue on a metal pole. It was practically boiling, actually, suctioning all the heat out of Blitzo’s body like a leech in a black hole and leaving all extremities shivering in a way reminiscent of poor street orphans. Millie reached over to snap off a square of the chocolate bar that Blitzo was holding, and her eyes widened as she brushed his fingers in the process.

“Aw, Moxxie, he’s right, he is cold! He’s-” She paused, concern gathering like storm clouds. “Really cold, actually. Are you sure you should-”

His fingers tightened around the gun in his free hand. “I’m not going home. I’m not letting this shit bench me, nothing has to change until I can shove the little cretin out and figure out what to do with them, got it?” Blitzo swatted at her hand, and she pulled back with her mouth screwed to the side and lips pursed.

“Hmmph. I’m just saying, I don’t really remember Mama or Daddy going through anything like this. I don’t think it’s a normal imp thing, is all, so you don’t know-”

“I know that if I sit at home with nothing to do, I am going to fucking lose it, so chill, alright?”

“Chill is the last thing you need, apparently,” Moxxie grumbled, and Blitzo smacked him with his tail, getting a little yelp out of the smaller imp before Millie stuck a hand over both of their mouths.

“C’mon,” she muttered, “We need to focus, they’re looking our way.”

Blitzo licked her palm, but she just raised an eyebrow.

“I’ve got four siblings, Blitz, that stopped working on me when I was eight.” Her fingers dug into his cheeks before letting go and he huffed, shuffling on his haunches and stuffing the rest of the chocolate bar in his mouth. Already, his stomach was growling again- stupid kid was being even more high-maintenance than usual. For that matter, more everything.

That morning, he’d woken up half-frozen to the bed with blood practically freezing under his skin, his stomach nearly a full inch bigger than it had been the night before with his skin itching like fuck because of it and stretchmarks creeping around the edges to boot. The binge last night must have all gone to plumping the little bastard up or something, because of course it had. (He could still feel where the kid had torn up, but it was manageable now with a handful of painkillers, at least.)

Fortunately, he had a coat in the back of his closet at work from when they’d gone to the arctic to knock off a scientist who’d stolen their target’s research, and he’d gotten it a size too big just in case he’d needed to hide one of the bulky weapons inside.

Unfortunately, he hadn’t realized that until after the client meeting.

____

“So he just left me there after I checked his gun and it went off.” The client, a deer-form sinner, had raised an eyebrow, camo jacket rustling as he folded his arms with a twitch of his ear. “Hey, how come your little lackey’s in a suit but you aren’t? It’s all unprofessional and shit. You look like a marshmallow.”

Blitzo growled, tugging his (not stretchy enough) shirt down. The light pink fabric bounced back up anyway. Traitor.

“And you ended up in Hell. We all make bad choices sometimes. Just tell me where the fucking gig is, alright?”

____

Blitzo shook his head as the leaves rustled- he needed to focus. He could not become a liability, even though leaving the warmth of Hell for the more temperate heat of Earth chilled his bones better than any iced coffee ever could.

“Gimme the rundown, Moxx. How’s it looking?”

“There’s four of them around the fire. One woman, three men, all in camouflage clothing. All wearing hunting caps for some reason too, even though this weather’s far too warm for it for most humans, I would think. Perhaps it’s some kind of pack-bonding thing.” Moxxie adjusted the binoculars a bit. “The target is the short one with the red hair.”

“G-got it,” Blitzo said, rubbing his arms. If he any hair on them, it'd be standing up. Fire sounded good. Fire sounded really good. “When reddie breaks off from the bunch, we nab them. The client said he doesn’t care if the others get hurt in the process as long as we weren't charging extra for it, he wanted the party all back together anyway.”

“Right,” Millie said with a nod. “As soon as-”

“They’re all moving out at once,” Moxxie hissed, cutting her off. “They were talking but I couldn’t hear what, the target’s being left to guard the fire.”

“It’s almost too easy,” Blitzo said, twirling the gun in his hand and before splitting off and creeping through the underbrush, each footstep sinking slightly into the damp, muddy ground with a squelch as Moxxie hissed something after him that he couldn’t quite hear. The foliage was thick enough here that he lost sight of the fire for a moment, but the cozy, flickering warmth drew him like a snake to a flute, yellow sparks creating dancing shadows off the trees- but with no long shadows to reflect except for his own. “Wait, the hell did he go?” The firepit was still crackling merrily away, but the target had vanished. He raised an eyebrow, turning back to their hiding spot. “C’mon, where is he? You go blind in the last two minutes, Moxxie?”

“He was just here- he must have stepped out to go to the bathroom,” Moxxie whisper-hissed. “Be careful, they’re-”

“C’mon, Moxxie, I’m not an invalid.” Blitzo stuck his hand in the already-opened bag of marshmallows and stuffed one in his mouth. The pops and snarls of the fire were filling the aches of his bones with soothing jelly, and his legs wobbled a little as he swallowed down the gooey snack. “I’ll go find ‘em, just… just a second…”

“Sir…”

“Relax, it takes more than ten seconds to piss.” Blitzo reached for the marshmallows again, fingers already in the bag when-

“Blitz!” Millie called out just as pain exploded through the back of his hand, and a screech bubbled up from deep in his chest as he automatically smacked his other hand at his wrist, brain taking precious milliseconds to process whatever the fuck had just happened.

There was a knife. Impaled. On his hand. Black blood spurted out in waves over his skin and sleeve, and he yanked the fingers close to his body as shrieking erupted from the bushes.

“Ha! Thought I heard somethin’! Those horns are gonna look real pretty mounted on my wall!” Red hair fell over a tanned and freckled face, and Blitzo’s fingers twitched, nerves going haywire as his other hand fumbled for something, anything, he’d dropped the fucking gun when he’d grabbed at his wrist, fuck, shit- there! His fingers clasped a small bottle and he chucked it full force at the human. It shattered, foul-smelling yellow liquid splattering his face as he sputtered and spat. “What the fuck?” The human fumbled for his weapon to retaliate, but-

BLAM!

-That was going to be rather difficult, considering his head was now in about twenty pieces, several of which splattered Blitzo's face and slid down before he brushed them off, licking at his cheeks.

“Blitz!” Millie called, hurrying down. “Are you okay?”

“I’m-”

“Put your h-hands up!”

Blitzo whirled around, automatically dropping into a hunched crouch with his non-injured arm wrapped around his stomach. He hissed as the other humans from the hunting party of doom scrambled back to the firepit. God, his hand hurt.

“Get the fuck out,” he growled in a lower timbre than he’d ever heard himself drop to, and the one in the front froze, leading the woman to shove her way upwards.

“You killed Todd!”

A bang and she collapsed to her knees, clutching at her chest before another shot went straight through her skull. A cawing crow took off from a nearby tree, rustling the leaves.

Fingers clasped his elbow, and he could smell mint- Moxxie’s mouthwash. “The target’s down, we need to-”

“I wanna rip them to pieces, they got me,” Blitzo growled.

“Millie and I can take care of- eep!” Another shot cracked off above their heads, and Moxxie dragged Blitzo to the side as a huge branch slammed down where they’d been. “You’re in no shape-“

“I’m fine!” Sweat poured down over Blitzo’s eyes, and- were there two of Moxxie all of a sudden? When did he get a twin? He didn't have a twin. Blitzo would have found that out by now.

“No, you aren’t! You’re risking all of us, call Loona so we can clean- gah!” Moxxie kicked at the air furiously as one of the remaining hunters lifted him up like a ragdoll and dragged him away, screaming all the while as he twisted and writhed in their grip. Blitzo saw red. His tail snapped like a whip as he leaped forward and bit furiously at the mound of protesting, shaking meat, and a sharp shock grazed the side of his chest before blood gushed from the human's throat as he tore the jugular out with his teeth. Inside, the kid kicked out, doing their best to distract him, but nothing was going to keep him from-

“Moxx! Blitzo!” The head cracked mere inches from his face as Millie slammed a knife into the neck and snapped the spinal cord, and a gurgling scream cut off before two pairs of hands hauled him back from the fresh corpse. He snapped his teeth, heels digging into the damp ground as he strained forward. He needed to dismember it, he needed to tear it to pieces, he needed to fucking destroy it-

“And stay down, you fucking bastards, don’t fucking touch them-“

“It’s- it’s fine, he didn’t hurt me,” Moxxie said, dragging Blitzo back by the arm. “He maybe bruised my arms at best.”

“They’re dead, Blitzo, we can go home.” Millie agreed, and their combined strength forced Blitzo to take a breath, falling limp.

“…So sloppy, the ones with guns didn’t even get a shot in.”

Moxxie sucked in a breath. “About that…” He pressed his fingers to the side of Blitzo’s pecs, and Blitzo groaned out a ‘fuck’.

“It doesn’t look too bad, it should be fine with some painkillers and a tourniquet,” Millie commented. “The hand is much worse.”

Being reminded of that sent a white-hot flare of pain scurrying up his nerves, and Blitzo hissed. “Riiiiight.”

Millie fired off a text, and by the time Blitzo turned around, the portal had opened in front of them. He took one step before nearly eating dirt, and Millie and Moxxie grasped him under the armpits and hauled him through, the office the most welcome sight he’d ever seen.

“What happened?” Loona asked, fingers tightening around the Grimoire.

“It went badly,” Moxxie grunted. “Get the first aid kit.”

Loona didn’t argue.

________________

Well, he was definitely on too many painkillers to be fully healthy for the kid at this point considering how much it took to be anywhere near effective on him, but he wasn’t bleeding out, his hand wasn’t screaming at him anymore, and his shirt had probably gotten ruined by all the stretching out even before his side started bleeding all over it, so…

Okay, yeah, fuck trying to spin it, this just plain sucked shit-flavored asshole. Millie finished tying off the bandage around his hand as he sat in his chair and Moxxie paced around his office.

“We can’t keep doing this.”

“Come-” Blitzo coughed. Now that the adrenaline was wearing off, the chills were creeping back up everywhere the blood wasn’t still rushing to, and he couldn’t help but lean closer to Millie and her precious body heat. “-Come on, getting hurt in the field is just part of the job.”

“Yes, but you’re not thinking clearly anymore, and you’re risking-”

“I am so thinking clearly!” Setting aside the fact that if he blinked too much Moxxie duplicated himself again, but he wasn’t about to tell him that.

Moxxie continued as if he hadn’t spoken, rude little shit. “You’re risking yourself, both of us, and, yes, the baby!”

“Oh, and they’re the one that matters here.” Blitzo rolled his eyes, but Moxxie folded his arms, tail swaying like a pendulum and nails drumming on his bicep.

“I know that your feelings about this are mixed, but I would never forgive myself if you went out there and got both of you killed because you’re a stubborn jackass.”

“He’s right,” Millie added.

“Don’t you dare team up on me,” Blitzo snarled, lead settling in the pit of his stomach as Millie stood up, drying her hands off with the towel borrowed from the bathroom- they were going to have to replace that. It had been white with little galloping horses around the bottom, and they were all so covered in black now that you couldn’t even see them anymore. He knew from experience that imp blood never came out of white fabric no matter how hard you scrubbed.

“We will if we have to- I’d do the same for anybody,” Millie said, balling the towel up and dropping it on the desk. “You lasted a lot longer than most people would, but there’s no shame in taking some time off so you don’t end up killin’ the little one before they even get a chance to see the world.”

“What about me, huh? Don’t I get a say in this? This is my company!” He shoved himself off the chair, but Millie pushed him back down. Her hand burnt where it touched his chest.

“C’mon, Blitzo, you need to be resting- I care about you, alright? Both’a us do.”

“Oh, sure, that's why you're not letting me make my own decisions as a grown-ass man." He narrowed his eyes.

“If we didn’t, we’d just let you go out and get yourself killed by the next target who has a gun,” Moxxie retorted. “I’m not going to let you drag all of us down with you, and I’m not going to keep working out in the field with you if you’re going to be a liability!”

“Are you threatening to quit?” Blitzo tried to get up again, and again Millie pushed him back down- far easier than she should have been able to, but if it was the blood loss or the baby weight was anybody’s guess.

“Of course not- maybe? I don’t know!” Moxxie rubbed his forehead. “I just-”

Millie shifted over to him, squeezing his shoulders. “We get what you mean, honey.” She turned back to Blitzo. “I know you wanna always do your best and work hard for IMP, and I’ve got nothing but praise for that, but-”

“But nothing! I can do this, end of story!”

Millie raised an eyebrow, taking a few steps back towards him and poking Blitzo right where she’d just wrapped the gunshot wound, and he couldn’t hold back a pained whine. “Suuuuure you can.”

“If you insist on still coming to work, just-” Moxxie sucked in a breath. “Just take over Loona’s job. Maybe she can help us, but Millie and I handled things fine when you were gone, we can keep things running.”

“Like hell you can!” Icy hands squeezed at his chest as Millie patted his shoulder.

“You don’t have to do everything alone, Blitzo.”

He smacked her hand away. “Don’t tell me I’m useless, I don’t need your fucking pity-”

“But you do need us,” Millie replied. “We want to help, isn’t that enough? There’s only another month and a half or so until they’ll be here, after all. You've got a lot to get sorted, and it's the least we can do.”

Blitzo just stared with wide eyes as his knifed hand screamed with every minute twitch of the nerves and tendons within. Moxxie raised an eyebrow with his arms crossed, and Millie considered the towel on the desk before dropping it in the trash. It left behind little splatters of his blood on the polished oak as he gritted his teeth.

“Fuck both of you.”

(Which meant, unfortunately, ‘you win for now’, and it was only because he was about to pass out in his chair.)

#one time #helluva mpreg #daddy blitzo #shadow writes stuff #surprisingly this one is NOT v0re eheh

[scribomaniac]

Something Wicca This Way Comes: Ch 13

I KILLIAN I

Pacing up and down the length of the hallway that led from the front door to the kitchen, Killian wondered how much longer Mary Margaret and Emma planned on staying in the basement. It’d already been hours since the older witch had gone down to comfort her daughter. Killian had considered venturing down himself, but in the end decided it wasn’t a good idea. He had no idea what would come out of his mouth if he tried speaking to Emma right now.

Liam, who was trying very hard to look casual, sitting in the middle of the couch with a textbook in his lap, asked, “What’re we gonna do if she says no,” he looked between Killian and Liam, who was looking out the window with a scowl. “To her destiny, I mean.”

“That’s not an option,” Liam said, leaving no room for argument. “It’s her destiny.”

“So what?” Will’s browed furrowed, “Are you saying all the talk about free will is bull then?”

“No,” Liam closed his eyes, making Killian wonder if he was trying not to roll them. “Of course there’s still free will but if Emma doesn’t do this, if she denies her birthright, then—”

“Then what?” Killian stopped his pacing to ask. “Really, what then? So the Source doesn’t die—there’s still us. There are still other witches protecting Innocents.”

Turning to look at his younger brother, Liam said, “It’s not as simple as that. Tink’s said how powerful the Source has become—how unequal the balance between good and evil is. The longer Emma takes to accept her destiny, the more lives will be lost.”

“And what about her life?” Killian’s past premonitions came to mind. One of Emma being stolen as a baby, her sleeping mother right beside her, and the other of her as a small child being tormented in the Underworld. “Doesn’t she get a chance to live it, too?”

Liam waved him away, “Putting her own life above others is just selfish. And why are you defending her?” He narrowed his eyes at Killian, “Or have you forgotten she tried to kill you?”

Swallowing dryly, Killian glared, “Of course I haven’t forgotten, but she’s not just the Firestarter anymore, is she? That makes things a bit more complicated.” A lot more complicated, if Killian were being honest, and in a lot of different ways.

“It wouldn’t be if Emma would just do what she was born to do!”

A light cough interrupted them, making Killian’s head snap over to find Mary Margaret standing in the entrance to the kitchen.

“I wanted to say thank you, before we left,” she told them. There was a smile on her face, but her eyes were as hard as iron and they were trained on the oldest Jones brother, as if daring him to try and stop them. “I’ll be taking my daughter home now.”

Wincing, Liam stepped forward and tried to salvage the situation, “Mary Margaret, I’m sorry, but you know what’s at stake here. You can’t just—”

“Oh, I can,” Mary Margaret nodded quickly. “I lost my daughter just hours after giving birth to her, Liam. I’ve been through more hell in that first few minutes of finding her missing than you have in your entire life so don’t you dare try to lecture me about what’s at stake.” Cutting herself off, Mary Margaret looked down and smoothed out her shirt. “I know this isn’t the outcome you wanted, but it’s not your choice and you need to respect that.” Taking a deep breath, she looked up and said, “Thank you again. For bringing my daughter back to me.”

It was silent for a moment too long where the Jones brothers looked at each other awkwardly, unsure of how to respond to Mary Margaret’s gratitude.

Will was the first to remember his manners, and said, “You’re welcome.” It came out a bit stilted, but Mary Margaret nodded all the same.

“We’ll leave once David gets back.”

The muscle in Liam’s jaw pulsed against his skin. It was obvious that he wanted to continue arguing with her, but thankfully he held his tongue. Mary Margaret was right, it wasn’t his choice, but Killian knew his brother better than anyone. He liked to be in control, to take charge and make decisions. Having no say in this must have been eating him alive.

“If you ever need anything,” Killian found himself saying, “we’re here for you.”

Again, Mary Margaret nodded. Killian wished he could say more, bother to her and to Emma. He couldn’t help feel like they were making a mistake. Not because it was Emma’s destiny or anything like that, but because running away never solved anything. Killian had learned that himself firsthand after leaving the Navy. He wished he could speak to Emma alone, to learn what she was thinking. Her whole life had just been turned upside down. Killian, having gone through several life altering situations himself, felt the compulsion to comfort her. It was only the knowledge that she wouldn’t want him to—wouldn’t want anything to do with him—that kept him from doing so. He understood that what they had was a lie, but he found himself wishing he could stay in her life, just for a little bit longer. As a friend or even just as a fellow witch. But that would never happen.

Emma appeared from the kitchen then, and Killian had to turn away.

“Where will you go?” Will asked.

Before either woman had a chance to respond, three distinct blinks sounded throughout the room.

“Warlocks!” Liam immediately shouted, diving for Will and taking cover behind the couch as several energy balls flew past.

Grabbing Mary Margaret and Emma by their arms, Killian yanked them down to hide behind the dining table. It would have provided at least a few minutes of protection from the Warlocks, until one pulled out a fireball and set it ablaze.

“Bloody hell,” Killian hissed. “Who’d they steal that power from?”

Liam popped up from behind the couch and blasted the Warlock closet to Killian into oblivion.

“Come on,” Killian grabbed for Emma again. She my be the Savior, but without proper training of her new powers she was practically a sitting duck. They ran for the kitchen, Mary Margaret using her powers to close doors and throw furniture at the new Warlock behind them.

Emma stared at her hands, clenching and unclenching her fingers. “Come on, dammit! Light up!”

“Focus, Emma,” Mary Margaret told her, her gaze on the blocked entry way. “Think about what you did last time, okay?”

“It’s not working,” she grounded out.”

Another blink, and then there was a Warlock right in front of her. Moving faster than he ever had before, Killian tackled Emma to the ground. He could hear the crackle of wood behind him, the heat from the newly burning fire.

Turning over, Killian watched as the Warlock threw an energy ball at Mary Margaret, causing her to jump out of the way. Summoning another sizzling ball of electricity in his hand, the Warlock grinned, showing his decaying yellow teeth, “The Source sends his regards, Firestarter.”

Bright white lights formed behind the Warlock, and before the creature could finish them off, Will appeared and shouted, “Athame!”

The ceremonial blade appeared in his hand in a ball of light, and Killian’s younger brother wasted no time by throwing it directly into the back of the Warlock’s head.

The effects were immediate, the Warlock’s body exploding like a star in supernova.

Standing up, Killian side and patted his brother on the back, “Good timing.”

“Sorry I wasn’t faster—the last Warlock gave us some trouble in the other room.” He looked at Emma, who was still on the floor, to Mary Margaret who’d moved to put out the fire on the wall. “You all okay?”

“Aye,” Killian nodded. “Swan?” He moved to help her up, but she brushed him off, standing on her own.

“What I don’t get,” Liam hollered from the other room, grunting as he pushed debris out of the way. Finally making enough room to open the door, he continued, “is how they got those powers. Tink said Warlocks stealing a demon’s powers was like treason.”

Emma scoffed, “Not if the Source is the one who gives them to you.”

“What?” Will asked with a frown. “Why would he do that? Oh shit,” he blinked, looking at his brothers, then back at Emma, “do you think he know you’re the Savior? But how?”

“He doesn’t know I’m the Savior—if he did he’d have come to kill me himself.” Pushing her hair back, she raised a brow at them all. “Do you really not know who we vanquished earlier? Baelfire?”

Killian exchanged glances with his brothers. They looked just as confused as he felt. “Never heard of him, Swan.”

“Yeah, well, he was the Source’s son. And since I was the one who killed him, he’ll have placed a bounty on my head.” Shoulders slumping, she turned towards her mother, “Sure you still want me around?”

“Oh, Emma,” Mary Margaret whispered before walking to her daughter’s side. She didn’t hug her—though Killian had no doubt in his mind that she wanted to—but she did place a hand on Emma’s arm. “I’m with you. No matter what, okay?”

Lips quirking up into a small smile, one that dipped off just as suddenly as it came, Emma nodded, “Okay.”

“This is another reason you shouldn’t leave,” Liam said, hands on his hips. “We can train you, help you fight back.”

Closing his eyes, Killian held back a groan. Liam had a point, but now was really not the time.

Barring her teeth, Emma growled, “Stay out of it.”

“Kinda hard to do that when shit like this happens in my house.”

Nostrils flaring, Emma looked at the four people standing before her. It was like watching a deer in the headlights. Shaking off her mother’s arm, Emma pushed her way out of the room and towards the front door. “I need some air.”

Killian followed her out onto the porch, “Swan, wait.”

“What?” She turned on him, her brows furrowed, “Are you going to try and convince me to stay? That demons will just keep coming and coming until we’re all dead? Because I know that.” Bringing her hands up to massage her temples, Emma closed her eyes and frowned. “I was the Source’s bodyguard, for Pete’s sake. I know what he’s capable of, and now with Bae gone—” she shook her head, “The only way to survive is to run.”

Killian nodded slowly, “You might survive that way, aye, but Emma,” he took a small, cautious step towards her, “you deserve more than that. You deserve to live.”

Cocking a brow, Emma asked dryly, “There’s a difference?”

Killian thought back to when he and Liam were boys, how they’d had to fend for themselves and only relying on each other. They’d fought for every scrap of food they were given and always looked over their shoulders for a possible attack. Even when they’d enlisted into the Navy, when they were assured of brotherhood and security, Killian had never let his guard down, sleeping with one eye open. He’d been right to do so, in the end, but that didn’t mean it was a healthy or sustainable way to live.

Answering with conviction, Killian said, “Yes.”

Emma’s bros rose, but Killian could still see the suspicion lingering behind her eyes. Curling his lips into a coy smile, he tried to elaborate, “Living means joy, Swan. Pleasure. It’s like enjoying a kiss after an incredible date.”

Eyes flickering down to her lips, Killian couldn’t help but remember the last kiss they had shared. Looking back up into Emma’s eyes, he wondered if she ever thought of that moment as well. He thought of the words, to ask her outright, but they wouldn’t manifest on his tongue. Flirting? Easy, no problem for young Killian Jones. But honesty? That was a bit harder at the moment.

“Just imagine,” he said instead, his mouth turning dry, “all that time we’d spent together, with no ulterior motives. Just you and me, Swan, living our lives.” He was entering dangerous territory now, pushing for the truth in the only way he knew how.

Emma’s eyes feel just a fraction, and Killian’s heartbeat quickened as he realized they were focused on his mouth.

“Please,” she whispered, finally returning her gaze to his. Just as cautiously as he had moments ago, she took a step closer, “You couldn’t handle it.”

Killian tried his best to control his breathing, which had turned shallow and too loud in his ears. He was truly playing with fire now, and he didn’t much care of getting burned. “Maybe you’re the one that couldn’t handle it.”

And then Emma kissed him.

Hands immediately falling to her waist, Killian pulled Emma closer. Her mouth was rough and hard on his, but then she exhaled, and Killian could feel her tension bleeding away. She pulled back, just slightly, and Killian chased after. Her fingers brushed alongside his jaw and into his hair, sending electric shocks from the base of his spine down to the tips of his toes. Emma’s tongue snaked out, licking at his lower lip so sweetly. Killian choked on a moan, easily opening his mouth to giver her more access.

And then Emma was pulling off, breaking the kiss just as abruptly as she had started it. Eyes still closed, she took a shaky breath and told him, “That was a one time thing.”

And the next thing Killian knew he was alone on the porch.

 I EMMA I

Emma had no idea why she’d done that. It was stupid and rash and not like her at all. And yet, as she walked through the house, she couldn’t help but relish in the tingling feeling in her lips. A part of her wished she could spend all day kissing that man. She wanted to, she wanted to get to know him too. Really know him. And not to gain information for someone else, not because she’d been ordered to, but because she wanted to. Living and surviving, is that what he’d meant?

But all her wishing would amount to nothing if Killian didn’t feel the same way about her. How could he, after everything she’d done? He’d kissed her, yes, but that meant nothing. Emma knew better than anyone that lust and love were not the same.

Pacing in the solarium, Emma tried to get her head on straight. She couldn’t focus on the kiss right now. Or how her lips still tingle or how her heart fluttered when she thought of how Killian had held her only moments ago. No, she needed to make a decision. She had two options; run for the rest of her life or stay and fight.

Running was the smart move, and if it were only her in danger she wouldn’t be giving it a second thought. But she had Mary Margaret now, and David. Hell, she even had a brother to think about. She had a family. It was new and scary, but it was hers. Mary Margaret said they’d run, and Emma didn’t doubt her, but was that really fair? Emma sighed, wondering if running would only delay the inevitable. The Source was immortal, he’d never stop hunting her down. He’d wait until she was old and gray and then make her wish she’d never been born.

And what a horrible life that would be, she thought. She’d spent her whole life in the Underworld, believing her parents had sold her to demons, thinking she was unloved and would always be unloved. She’d fought because she’d been made to, relied on fear and hate to be her forever companions, but now, now she had something to fight for. A mother, a father, a brother. Killian. The Source had taken so much from her, was she really going to let him take this—all this—away from her?

Hell no.

#charmed #ouat #captain swan #killian jones #emma swan #mary margaret #idk what else to tag #idk im tired #enjoy

[the-awkward-outlaw]

Hello ! Can u write an imagine where Arthur s/o kills Micah and she is banned from the gang. Would Arthur follow her ? Thank u :)

Man, I have been in the biggest writing funk for the first time in like nine months but I finally got this one done! Here you go, Anon! Sorry about the wait. 

(Author’s note: Arthur doesn’t have TB) (BTW, Arthur is husband material and no one can change my mind)

It’s already been a long, exhausting day and it’s not even midday yet. You hate it here, always will without a doubt. Beaver Hollow is just a complete shit show and the gang has seriously deteriorated. 

You miss how things used to be. You can remember how everyone was: Mary-Beth and Tilly giggling over romance novels, Sean bragging about how tough and smart he was, Uncle’s jokes, Hosea’s stories about his past and how he always added a note of wisdom. Oh Hosea. He was just another casualty of Dutch’s plight against modern America. 

Everything’s changed since Hosea died and the boys returned from their tropical trip. Javier doesn’t sing or play the guitar anymore, no one laughs, people fight constantly. It’s a burden and a pain to be in the camp nowadays, and you hate it. The person who’s changed the most though is Dutch. He’s not the caring, almost paternal figure who was just struggling slightly to help everyone get back on their feet like he was right after the Blackwater mess. Now he seems to be on a suicide mission and intent on taking everyone in the gang with him. 

The worst thing about the whole situation is Micah. He’s always known how to butter Dutch up but when Hosea was around, he kept himself in check. Now that Hosea’s gone, he’s been in Dutch’s ear the whole time and you haven’t liked it. You’re not the only one; Arthur and John have been suspicious about the whole thing. 

Arthur’s faith in Dutch has been severely shaken. He questions Dutch much more than he ever used to. Dutch doesn’t like it, and he keeps on lying, saying he’s going to get everyone out. All he’s done is killed Cornwall, blown up a bridge, brought Pinkertons closer to camp than ever and used the war between the army and the Wapiti into his favor, even getting the chief’s son locked up during a feud. 

Arthur walks over to your tent after donating a deer to Pearson, who’s drunk again. He’s been coming to you to talk a lot more lately, though you’re not sure why. You’ve had a crush on Arthur for ages but never acted on it. You two have been friends for what seems like forever and you refuse to destroy that over some silly feelings you have. You’ve wondered if Arthur has a crush on you too. It’s just the way he acts sometimes, things he says. The way he wanted you to come with him to tell Mary he didn’t want to be her errand boy anymore. The way you catch him staring at you sometimes. How he always wants you to go off hunting with him but won’t invite anyone else. 

Just as he’s about to say something to you, Dutch calls him over. Arthur gives you a yearning look and then turns around to go see him. A few moments later, someone catches your attention, pulling you away from your work, with their voice. It isn’t Arthur, though or even John or Mary-Beth. It’s Micah. 

“Ah glad to see you’re putting an effort into keeping this place running. We can use all the help we can get,” he simpers. 

“The fuck do you want, Micah?” you snarl. 

Micah’s always been a pebble in everyone’s shoes but now with Hosea out of the way and Dutch going crazy, he’s been acting like he’s in charge of things. He keeps badgering people to do their chores (which most of them have been) and that everyone needs to pull their weight. This doesn’t bother you, what does bother you is the hypocrisy of it all. He never does a damn thing. The last job he helped with was murdering Cornwall but you felt he did it out of a personal interest and less of a needs-to-be done basis. 

“Always gotta be so bitter,” he says, smiling. “You know, if you were a little nicer, people might actually like you. Too bad nothing can be done to make you pretty though. Unfortunately you’ll just have to stick to nice but ugly.” 

You throw down the sewing you’d just been doing and stand up, marching over to him. He wisely takes several steps backwards as you whip out your pistol. 

“Give me one more goddamn reason, you cockroach,” you hiss. “I won’t hesitate to kill you.” 

He whips out his own gun and points it at you. “You don’t have the guts, little girl.” 

“Wanna bet? You ain’t the first person I killed, though I’m not sure I can really define you as a person.” 

By this time, your argument has attracted the attention of many of the others. They form a circle and watch, but no one dares interrupt. You get the feeling that most of them want you to kill him. The majority of them have had problems with him too. 

“Woe!” Dutch says, walking over with his hands in the air. “There is no need to have guns drawn in camp. Both of you fools, put them away.” 

He stands next to Micah and glares from him to you. Arthur stands a few feet behind him and shakes his head at you, clearly trying to stop you from doing something reckless.

“She started it, Dutch,” Micah says, his gun still drawn. 

“Bullshit! You’re the one going around insulting everyone. Trust me, if I don’t shoot you now, someone else will. Like Lenny said back in Colter, when you fall there’ll be a party.” 

“Watch your mouth,” he growls. “Keep flapping your gums and you’ll end up just like Lenny and Hosea. Better yet, maybe you’ll get your head shot off like good ol’ Sea-”

Before he can finish, he’s silenced by your bullet slamming into his neck. He sputters and drops his gun, grabbing at his gushing neck. People start yelling and Javier and Bill grab you, making you drop your gun. 

“Let go of me!” you scream as Micah falls to his knees. Dutch glares at you, clearly shocked. As Micah slumps down onto his stomach, he stomps towards you. Javier and Bill hold your arms tight and you can’t fight them off. 

“You know the rules, Y/N,” Dutch says quietly. “There’s absolutely no reason to shoot anyone in camp unless they’re traitors.”

“How do you know Micah wasn’t a traitor, Dutch?” you snarl. “Ever since Guarma, those damn Pinkertons have been nipping at your heels more than ever.” 

Dutch lowers his brow. “I’m going to give you five minutes to get away from here. Never come back, Y/N. I never want to see you around here again.” 

Javier and Bill let you go, but you look around, silently pleading with the others to help you. No one does and your eyes finally fall onto Arthur. His mouth is partially open but his eyes say he wishes you hadn’t done it. He says nothing though, and you feel your stomach drop. Of course he’d choose Dutch over you. He’s known him for twenty years and Dutch saved his life. You’ve only known him a few years and maybe helped him get out of a few scrapes. You’ve got nothing on Dutch when it comes to Arthur. You don’t blame him either. No matter what kind of mess Dutch has gotten everyone into, Arthur’s been doing his best to keep things together. All you’ve done is create a bigger mess for him to clean up. 

You know it’s time for you to leave. There’s no doubt in your mind that Dutch is just crazy enough to kill you, and the clock is ticking. You push your way between Tilly and Karen and go to your tent, packing everything up quickly. You feel everyone’s eyes on your back until Grimshaw barks at everyone to get to work and for Charles and John to get Micah’s body taken out of camp. You throw everything onto your horse and then run off down the path, feeling your heart break. You’ll never see any of them again, not even Arthur. Your best friend and the man you love will never be part of your life again. 

********************************

It’s been three weeks since you were forced to leave camp. You’ve gone back west, back to where you’ve always belonged. You’ve found a small cabin not too far from Aurora Basin in Tall Trees. When you first arrived, the cabin had clearly been abandoned for a long time. You cleaned it up and made it habitable. You’ve decided to hang up the hat on being an outlaw. The Pinkertons won’t be coming out this way looking for the Blackwater robbers, not when they know exactly where Dutch is, so you’re safe out here. Besides, you weren’t even involved in that mess, so no one will associate you with that. 

It’s been lonely but peaceful out here. No more having to rob people, no more feeling like you’re chasing your own tail in Dutch’s crazy schemes. No more having to worry about anyone else besides yourself. You’ve missed them though, all of them. You miss joking with Tilly and Karen, discussing books with Mary-Beth, listening to Javier’s stories about Mexico. Even Pearson’s cooking since you’re not much of one yourself. 

More than all of that though, you miss Arthur. You miss the sound of his voice, the conversations you had during long hunting trips. He was the only person you could tell anything to. There were many nights you spent under the stars with him and even a few curled against him to keep out the cold. You miss the way he smelled, the way he’d hesitatingly touch you. You two were a perfect hunting team, you were able to track and kill prey without hardly saying a word. You try to settle with the idea that you’ll just have to reminisce in the memories of him but to forget a future with him in it. Not that you had much hope for that before. Arthur may have told Mary to take care of herself from now on, but you always knew he;d never go for you. 

You’ve been fishing in the lake for some time and gotten hardly any luck. You sigh and decide to call it a day, collapse your pole and pick up your almost empty bucket. You head up the road, feeling lonely and missing the company of your family. When you round the bend leading to your cabin, you look up and see a familiar face. 

“Arthur?” you say quietly, not sure if he’s really there or not. 

He rubs his jaw and looks at you, clearly searching for the right words. You stop and look for him, your stomach clenching. Has Dutch sent him? Dutch said you only had five minutes to get out of camp, but not that he wouldn’t hunt you down. The only reason you can think that Arthur’s here is because Dutch told him to find and kill you. You hover your hand over your gun, hoping you won’t have to use it. 

“Arthur, please let me explain,” you say. “You know Micah was just making things worse. Let’s just put this all behind us, okay? Just tell Dutch you killed me, at least do me that favor.” 

“Dutch didn’t send me, Y/N,” he says softly, his hands on his gunbelt. He takes a step towards you but stops when you back up, clearly worried. He raises his hands. “I ain’t here to hurt ya, darlin’.” 

Darlin’? He’s never called you that before. He’s always addressed you by your name. If you didn’t know Arthur, you’d think he might be lying and pretending to be harmless, but you know him too well. He doesn’t lie. 

You blink heavily, feeling your eyes water. “Why else would you be here, Arthur?” 

He sighs and takes another step towards you, his hands still up. “Y/N, I ain’t followin’ Dutch no more. You said it weeks ago, he’s gone crazy. He didn’t get better when you left either. Micah might not have been around to stir him up, but he’s just gone worse. He was real angry when Charles and I went and broke Eagle Flies out of jail, tryin’ to clean up his mess.” 

Arthur goes on to say how the army tried to kill Chief Rains Fall for the oil on his land and how the gang went to help try and save Eagle Flies as he went to get revenge for his people. By the end, Arthur got trapped beneath a soldier and nearly killed. Dutch had been the only one there and could have easily saved him, but chose not to. When Arthur confronted him about it, a huge fight broke out between them and Arthur decided he’d had enough. He snuck John, Abigail and Jack out that night and then decided to find you. 

“I knew you’d come out west, Y/N. You’re too much like me, this is where you’ve always wanted to belong.” 

“But why would you want to come after me, Arthur? I understand why you left, but why come after me?” 

He lowers his hand and walks up to you until he’s only a couple feet away. “Because I care about ya, Y/N.” His gruff voice is soft, sending shivers down your arms. “Because you’ve always tried to help me. If you’d been there, I know you woulda saved my life, not leave me to die like Dutch did. I did everything I could for him, even almost died for him multiple times. I gave him everything I had and got nothin’ to show for it. I’m done, darlin’. I want to be with you.” 

Your entire body is shaking as he talks. He closes the distance between you and wraps his arms around you. What little strength you had holding you together crumbles and you sink into his chest, tears leaking out of your eyes. 

“I’m sorry I weren’t there for ya when you killed Micah,” he says, rubbing your back. “To be honest, I was happy when you killed Micah. He’s been a giant thorn in my side since he showed up and I’ve wanted to shoot him myself since Sean died. I was just shocked that you’d done it so quickly. I shoulda gone with you when Dutch forced you out.” 

You shake your head into his shirt. “No, it’s good you didn’t. If you’d left with me, Dutch would have hunted both of us down. He knows how essential you are to everything, he wouldn’t like it if you left with me.” 

He sighs and leans his cheek against your head. “Well, I’m here now, darlin’. If you’ll have me, I’d like to stay with ya as long as I possibly can. You’re my best friend and…” He pauses so long you look up at him to find his cheeks red. “I gotta be honest, Y/N, I’ve been sweet on ya for years.” 

It’s your turn to blush and you smile. “Really? Why didn’t you tell me?” 

“We had things so good, Y/N. We been friends so long, worked so well together, I didn’t wanna ruin that. Besides, I know you wouldn’t have feelings for me. I’m just an old, dirty outlaw. I ain’t worth no one’s time.” 

You grimace at him. “Arthur, I hate how poorly you view yourself. You wanna know what I think about you?” 

“I suppose, though I doubt it’ll be anythin’ good.” 

You sigh and stretch up, placing your lips against his. They’re soft, though slightly chapped. He tenses up when you touch him but after a second he responds. His lips move with yours and you trace his with your tongue. After a moment, you pull away. He’s cheeks are darker but he’s smiling. 

“That’s what I think of you, Arthur. I’d love it even more if you decided to stay with me. I’ve been sweet on you for the longest time, it’s been so hard for me to keep it out of our relationship. I just didn’t wanna ruin our friendship.” 

He smiles in and leans in to kiss you again. You feel the first surge of excitement and happiness since you got kicked out of the gang. You can’t wait to see what the future has in store for you now.

#arthur morgan #red dead fanfic #rdr2 fanfic #awkward asks #arthur morgan x reader

[aaluminiumas]

Merry Christmas Chopper

Time flows differently at sea, especially on the Grand Line: the weather in this part of the world never followed the ordinary calendar people had outside the ocean, so a blizzard in the middle of the summer wouldn’t surprise anyone. The climate depended on the island itself, and the inhabitants stuck to their specific routine maintained throughout the years: the holidays of the Fish-Men didn’t coincide with those of the Minks thus a lucky traveler may get a chance to become acquainted with rituals and traditions of all races.

The Straw Hat Pirates had already seen a lot. That’s why Nami yearning for Christmas she last celebrated a couple of years ago, made sure that the ship steered for another Winter Island and then ordered to throw a real party. Initially, only two latched on the idea: Sanji who agreed to do anything offered by Nami, and Robin, as usual peacefully calm, whose multiple hands immediately embarked to festoon Sunny. Luffy seemed to worried about one thing only – whether they were going to have meat; Zoro followed his Captain’s suit and asked about drinks – again, following Luffy’s suit, he got punched in the head and crawled away with gloomy grumbling. As a result of the powerful blow, the swordsman deigned to hang a garland over his mat on the deck. Sanji waspishly advised not to remove it in the future in order to define the borders of the improvised botanical garden and what is the vantage point to feast the eyes upon the ugliest plant.

While Brook, Usopp and Franky were trying to part the fighters to the rippling laughter of their Captain, Chopper took advantage of the common turmoil and ran over to Nami. He had first-hand knowledge of Christmas: as resident of a Winter Island, he often celebrated the holiday. Even when other reindeer atrociously lambasted him, he kept believing in miracles and never doubted Santa and his presents. However, the presents weren’t the main concern: absolutely unspoiled, he was waiting for some other guest – the red-nosed reindeer, Rudolph, who was claimed to have been mocked himself. Since childhood he swore he would stay up till morning to see Santa and his famous sleigh; he was sure he would talk to Rudolph in the animal language asking how he managed to take the lead, to turn his flaw into an assert and to overcome the sneers. Unfortunately, Chopper kept falling asleep – and woke up with bitter frustration written upon the snout. Later in the morning he disappeared in his lab and crammed another book borrowed from shrewd Kureha who unexpectedly failed to grasp what ate him away every winter so desperately.

Nami wasn’t paying attention to the skirmish between the cook and the swordsman: she continued decorating her tangerine trees and enlaced the boughs with colored garlands even though they hadn’t yet reach the island.

“Nami,” Chopped called in a low voice awkwardly tapping his hooves against each other and snuffling, “Is… Santa coming to us?”

Puzzled by the question, the navigator nodded.

“Of course, Chopper. Santa comes to all good kids… and adults. To the bad ones too,” she narrowed her eyes, pursed her lips and slowly turned her head in the direction of the bickering friends. “But there is not enough coal for those in the whole world. It’s easier to send them to a mine.”

“Are there deer, too?” he went on, still meek and at the same time more enthusiastic. “Or is he traveling by ship? He can’t get here by his sleigh, right?..”

Nami looked at him, clearly perplexed: she wasn’t ready for such questions; practically deprived of childhood herself, she never had illusions as to Santa’s personality but the girl didn’t venture to shatter her friend’s faith in this mythological figure. To her Christmas was a day when she could finally express her gratitude and affection towards all the crew members (and to get a nice present for her outstanding navigation skills) but for Chopper it was an evening of miracles and didn’t want to wreck it all.

“Doctor-san,” Robin suddenly came to rescue with her low voice pierced with confidence, “his sleigh runs across the sky, not by the sea. Why would he need a ship if it is safer to travel above multiple dangers of the Grand Line?”

The archeologist’s words mollified the reindeer: his large woeful eyes beamed in a heartbeat. If Nami was able to fib a little, Robin would rather remain silent or elude.

“Don’t you happen to know,” Chopper hesitated for another moment rattling his hooves again, “when is he coming? I would… I would love to just have a peep… at Rudolph. I heard that he was… different from others. Just like me. But I have a blue nose…”

Even if Robin was taken aback, she didn’t reveal her astonishment in the slightest: her face remained serene and tranquil. With a small apologetic smile upon the lips, the woman shook her head and adorned his tiny antlers with a garland interwoven with a sparkling tinsel.

“Unfortunately, Doctor-san, I cannot give you a proper answer to that. The number of good kids changes from year to year, and he has to pay a visit to them all. But I am certain this time he will stay a little longer: after all, you have done so many good things that you deserve a special present.”

Encouraged by the praise, Chopper was about to start dancing: the reindeer still couldn’t get used to the fact that he was genuinely loved and cherished even though aloof and unsociable Law tended to commend him every once in a while. And if Nami expressed her emotions in quite a ribald way, Robin tried to find the right approach to everyone not resorting to punches and manipulations – even a rejection didn’t sound adamant though her voice was always firm.

“Then,” the doctor scratched his blue nose, “If you see him… can you please wake me up? I promise not to fall asleep but,” here he got embarrassed completely, “Every year I just pass out and… I would love to…”

“Of course Doctor-san,” Robin interrupted him soflty, “We’ll be on guard.”

“Don’t worry Chopper,” Nami bolstered her friend, “A mouse won’t slip by Zoro, let alone an old man with a flock of deer. We’ll take care of it!”

As soon as their inspired friend rushed to his little laboratory equipped with all the necessary things for his endless experiments, Nami crossed her arms in the chest staring at Robin with a suspicious grimace on the visage.

“I certainly love your idea,” she muttered in a low voice, “But what is that you suggest us doing? We cannot steal a deer, put a red nose on it and introduce it as Rudolph. I couldn’t even think that he’s so…”

“Flustered? Excited? This is quite obvious,” the woman adjusted a glossy purple ball on the tangerine branch so its ribbon didn’t cover the image. “He doesn’t really have someone… to share his experience with. Whether we want it or not, we… do not fully understand him.”

“So what are we supposed to do? To turn ourselves into deer?” said Nami sarcastically. “Can’t even imagine myself… this way. I’m no doe. What kind of doe… would I be?..”

“The most beautiful doe in the world, Nami-swan! You will be the most charming female deer in th–”

Robin chuckled: Sanji didn’t manage to accomplish his laudatory ode as he got maimed which nonetheless failed to cool him down.

“You’re just in time, Sanji-kun,” the woman smiled thus provoking another bout of jitter. “Do you know the legend about Rudolph the Deer?”

Soon enough the whole crew began to arrange the Christmas party for Chopper. Nami, as usual, was in charge: she succeeded to draw attention to the discussion by heavy blows and threatening stares while Robin put forward various proposals that seemed suitable. Luffy only comprehended that Chopper ‘had some wrong Christmas’ and offered to pile the deer with presents but the idea implying a thousand of meat dishes didn’t sit well with the rest of the crew. Zoro supported his Captain on the topic of presents but added on his own behalf: let the swirlybrow make a present to them all by locking himself up in the kitchen throughout the celebration. Sanji pledged to cut the swordsman in pieces and feed seagulls, deprecated. Brook proposed to compose a song – and Robin’s hands writing down more or less reasonable suggestions, started jotting something in her notebook.

“Why not write him a letter?” exclaimed Usopp out of the blue. “It won’t replace Rudolph of course but… at least we will show we care about him.”

“And then he’ll eventually understand that Marimo is a good-for-nothing sentinel who hasn’t heard the thud of the hooves,” Sanji noticed melancholically, lighting another cigarette. “What a remarkably useless plant. Shall we toss it overboard?”

“I don’t need my swords to beat the shit out of you,” hissed Zoro flaring up. “Damn you, ero-cook!..”

It didn’t take much time to put things in apple pie order and reassert the breached discipline: Nami scattered the two in different directions, and both the swordsman and the cook rubbed their heads and squabbled in hushed voices not to instigate the navigator who seemed to like Usopp’s offer.

The preparations lasted for the whole day: Robin sneaked into the farthest corner of the deck to write the letter; Sanji wearing a funny apron garnished the desserts with cotton candy. As for Zoro, he had risked to get a carver knife between the eyes and now imitated some frenzied activity – according to the cook, it was ‘frenzied enough to outshine the quickest algae drifting with the stream’. Brook, laughing, was playing a song by ear while Usopp was wrapping the presents. Nami kept things tidy: she prevented Luffy from pushing his nose into every single box he saw. Franky, though, took care of it himself: he had cut out several wooden boxes for various trinkets. Now he improved his invention and fit locks into them – exclusively by the navigator’s request so eager to keep the spirit of Christmas. Albeit none of the tasks looked hard to finish, they appeared to be time-consuming, so none of the pirated noticed when and how the warm climate gave way to pleasant frost and slight snowfall.

Chopper went out to the deck only in the evening and started perusing snowflakes, so brittle and peculiar that they seemed to be knitted. They sank into his auburn fur and didn’t melt at all as if they morphed into a scintillating garland. Back at home they looked less fragile and yet bigger; accustomed to blizzards and cold, he learnt to ignore them and now, after all those visits to hot countries, a simply snowstorms morphed into a hibernal miracle.

He remembered the first time he saw himself in the reflection of the frozen river. He remembered his resentment for himself, that blue nose, and roared smashing whatever he could smash. He remembered how he nuzzled into white and fluffy snow hoping that the color of the nose would alter, and he, Chopper, would be just like others.

He also recollected the frosty redolence Hululuk’s fur coat exuded; he recalled Kureha’s perfume mingled with the fragrance of the wind. Her hands were always tender and smelled ice while Hululuk reminded him of the first snowflakes’ scent. It dawned upon him how much he actually could reminisce: that cheerful laughter, ridiculous stories the Doctor used to tell, and those midnight talks – they spoke about everything in the world. It was almost eternity ago when Chopper lost his best friend – and they still had so much to discuss. Hiluluk always supported him, and, probably in his own manner, taught the little reindeer to keep his head up.

“Merry Christmas,” a familiar gentle voice came; Chopper sharply turned in the direction of the sound and instantly noticed a figure he knew so well: it was a tad shorter than he remembered and moved angularly but the kind smile and warm eyes made everything clear. It was exactly the person who encouraged Chopper to become a doctor.

“Doctor Hiluluk!” the reindeer darted towards the man feeling he was barely able to squelch the tears that were about gush out from the eyes. “Doctor Hiluluk!.. How did you..? You are...”

The intruder laughed in a low tone and embraced his friend caringly.

“You’ve become so big and strong,” the doctor patted Chopper by the shoulder, “Are you happy with them?.. I’ve heard a lot about you, Chopper. I am exceedingly proud of you. You have become a talented physician. You are definitely second to none.”

The little reindeer didn’t release his friend – and almost ignored the praise. Millions of questions were swarming in his head but he didn’t hurry to ask them. Hiluluk didn’t insist on a decent conversation: he kept smiling looking at the reindeer cursing himself for the cruelty he had shown in the past. How could throw him out sugarcoating his atrocity and calling it care? Why didn’t he tell the truth letting Chopper make his own decision whether to stick around or to deal with his own life? Yes, that notorious quack felt ashamed and couldn’t disappoint his friend, but at the moment, after all those years, he finally realized that it may have been the only blunder he regretted so much. If he could turn back time, nothing of it would have happened.

“They do love you,” the guest drawled squatting before Chopper. “And protect you too. I am glad to know that you have found a family… despite everything. I am so sorry that I cannot be near.”

“But you are here!” the reindeer exclaimed blinking his watery eyes. “I’ll introduce you to my nakamas. They’ll like, I assure you! Sanji will cook the pies you are so fond of, Brook will sing for you, you’ll talk to Robin and–”

With a sad smile on the lips Hiluluk shook his head.

“Alas, it won’t do.” He sighed heavily. “You have a different life now… But,” he straightened up, “I have a little surprise for you, Chopper. I know who you are waiting for. Unfortunately, he cannot…”

Robin’s soft hand touched the glossy fur. Flummoxed, Nami noticed that Chopper finally awoke and placed a small box near the adoze reindeer: it was different from those that Franky had created. This one had incised ornaments and a carving of a certain mushroom on the lid. Still sleepy, Chopper kept staring at the present: did someone do that specifically for him?

“Open it, Doctor-san. This undoubtedly belongs to you.”

Robin’s honeyed mellow voice seemed to have pushed him, and the little hooves lifted the lid. Inside, there was a handful of pink powder – the same powder his friend had been working on, – and a letter with a stamp of a deer hoof. The whole crew gathered around: Usopp failed to wake him up, and panicked alarming the rest – even Zoro, normally apathetic and detached, scowled and rushed to rescue.

The whole ship was emblazoned and festooned. Nami had cleared the place underneath her tangerines, and now neatly wrapped presents were peacefully lying there revealing the cards written in Usopp’s and Franky’s untidy yet diligent hands. Sanji was serving cocoa with little cloud of marshmallow. Exclusively for Chopper he had created rosy petals of cotton candy. Robin, normally calm, adjusted bows, knots and decorations striving to make everything look like a picture. The evergreen lawn where the crew used to sprawl and relax, turned white: no one even tried to get rid of the glistening snow which reflected all Sunny’s embers and glimmers.

“Merry Christmas, Chopper,” Nami flashed him a broad smile.

“Merry Christmas!” shouted both Zoro and Sanji and looked daggers at each other.

“Su-u-u-u-u-u-per-r-r-r-r Christmas!” Franky struck a pose raising both his arms in the air.

“Mefwy Fuwissmas!” pronounced Luffy proudly munching on the ham he’d just stolen from the kitchen. A sound of Sanji’s powerful kick muffled another sentence he was about to utter.

“We love you, Chopper!” candidly declared Usopp.

“Yo-ho-ho-ho-ho!.. Merry Christmas, Chopper-san. Thank you for suturing our wounds! Though… yo-ho-ho… I don’t have skin to be sutured! Yo-ho-ho-ho-ho!”

The little reindeer sniveled. Probably he should let his past go – to let it get dispersed in a blur of pink petals.

#one piece #OP #merry christmas #christmas #xmas #chopper #hiluluk #dr. hiluluk #nami #luffy #zoro #sanji #robin #franky #brook #usopp #mugiwara kaizoku #mugiwarapirates #straw hat pirates

[captain-yeet]

An Unexpected Outcome (Demetri Volturi x Reader One-Shot)

Summary: The one thing Demetri did not expect at the trial of a possible immortal child was for his mate to clumsily stumble and stutter her way into his life.

Word count: 2,849

Warnings: Swearing, angst but ends in fluff. Sweet, sweet fluff.

For all intents and purposes, Demetri considered himself to be content in his current position with the Volturi. He was the best tracker in the world after a full century of honing his abilities. He had life-long friends in the forms of Felix and Heidi, a modest amount of wealth secured under his belt... Yes, overall, Demetri would say that he was perfectly content with how his life was.

Except for one thing; he did not have a mate to share his life with.

Over the years, the vampire had seen many relationships form and weave together both within the ranks fo the Volturi and outside. The precious, unbreakable bond between two beings was something that he yearned for, but after two centuries, his hopes waned. It nagged at his mind in the quiet moments. Whenever he shared a night with someone who’s name he cared not to remember. Whenever he would be walking down the halls of the Volturi’s residence and would out of the corner of his eye, see Marcus staring at a painting of his late beloved with a sad fondness. And even now though fleeting, as he surveyed the faces of the vampires gathered today to defend themselves, standing side-by-side their beloved mates.

Face calm and collected, he showed no sign of emotion as he observed the trial before him. The Cullens had gone ahead and meddled with the carefully-placed rules of their kind and played God by creating an immortal child, the mind-reader and his mate being at the forefront of the drama. As per usual.

The thing that made him finally quirk and eyebrow a the situation and finally show some interest was when the immortal child herself came forward. Demetri could hear her strange little heart fluttering away from where he stood.

The accuser, Irina, was now in some deep trouble. He moved forward and grappled the ill-informed vampire, pushing her to her knees before Caius and Felix.

The screams of her coven mates as she burned etched into his memory. Tanya and Kate charged forward, grief and fury shown in equal measure on their faces. A nomad tackled Kate, whereas another unknown vampire attempted to hold Tanya down, only to be thrown forward.

Edward Cullen had taken the fallen vampire’s place, holding her back and whispering something Demetri couldn’t make out. Had he not been as alert as he was, he might have missed the new sound to reach his ears. Another heartbeat.

While there were living among the undead in the snowy clearing counting the large wolves and the not-so-immortal child, this one was different. Heart pumping fast from adrenaline, but a typical sounding heartbeat nevertheless. Perfectly human.

The source of the heartbeat came from the clumsy one, who he now noticed was a young woman, that faceplanted on the ground.

And he wasn’t the only vampire to notice the human in their presence. The brawnier one of the Cullens was at the fallen human’s side in an instant, scanning for injuries while shooting Demetri’s coven with an icy glare.

 “Why is it that your coven always finds a way to consort with humans, Carlisle?” Aro sighed, the human now on his radar.

 “She isn’t like others of her kind,” Carlisle replied cooly, keeping any sign of worry or any reaction at all off his face. A smart tactic.

The woman was helped to her feet. “I’m okay, I’m okay,” she whispered to the Cullen who helped her up. “Thanks, Emmett.”

She glanced around her, slowly becoming aware that she was now the center of attention and not the child. Eyes growing wide as the realization hit her, she stared like a deer in headlights at the opposing coven of vampires. 

Demetri took the opportunity to look at her more closely. For a human, she was very pretty even while she appeared fearful, her eyes darting between each of his coven mates; perhaps that was the hunter in him speaking, the inner beast that longed for the sweet, hot blood that pumped through her veins. Another feeling bloomed within him; protectiveness. 

The more he looked at her, the more beautiful she appeared to be for him and the more he wanted to scoop the weak little human up and shield her from the situation at hand.

When her fretful gaze centered on Demetri, her face softened a bit, lips parting on their own accord.

Demetri let out a faint shocked gasp as he felt the entirety of his being gravitating towards the young lady, his own eyes widening. He began to fell his feet carry him forward before a hard hand landed steadily on his shoulder, earning a territorial hiss from him. 

The hand belonged to Felix, who gave him a look of “What the fuck are you doing?”

That, he didn’t know.

Marcus hummed to himself, gliding to Aro’s side and placing his hand in his. Aro watched what his fellow leader had to show, and let out another equally hysterical laugh the escaped his lips when the child first stood before him.

"Today has certainly been full of surprises," Aro said gleefully, beaming at his brother in arms. Milky red eyes drifted to the human woman and then over to Demetri, an amused glint shining within the crimson. "Quite the unexpected outcome."

You had been both a surprise and a blessing to the Cullens in the short time that you knew them. Gifted with the power of healing with a single touch, you stumbled upon a hurt Renesmee standing over a dead deer, a deep cut in her side from the antlers and a panicked Bella Cullen while out on a hike. Whether they were vampires or humans, it did not matter to you - someone needed your help.

Leaning against the wall inside the Cullen’s home, you listened to Edward, Emmett and Carlisle go back and forth in a civil but heated debate. About you.

It all started because that man noticed you, that strange beautiful man. As soon as your eyes locked with his you knew you had an instant crush, and part of you felt guilty for it because of the circumstances at the time; the other half of you, however, was completely captivated.

 “...Can’t stand in the way of fate,” you heard Carlisle argue.

 “We can if it’s one of them,” hissed Edward.

 “I gotta say, I’m on Ed’s side here Pops,” Emmett sighed, “his coven just tried to take us down, who’s to say he won’t hurt her?”

You sighed and threw your head back against the wall, staring up at the ceiling in frustration. When the Volturi had left the clearing, two lagged behind the rest; the beautiful man and the leader Aro.

Edward was the one to break the news; you were this handsome vampire’s mate. The uproar was instant. The Denali coven didn’t come near you after the news broke.

Suddenly, you heard a hiss. “Edward, what is it?” Carlisle asked?

Another voice, light and clear as a ringing bell, joined the conversation; Alice. “They’re coming back for her.”

 “To take her?”

 “No, it appears he just wants to... meet her.”

Okay, it’s time I entered this conversation, you decided. Turning around the corner and walking into the living room, you frowned at the vampires. “Can someone please explain to me what exactly is going on? I have a right to know.”

The four spared each other glances. It was Alice who answered you. “Two of the Volturi guard are on their way here, they’ll be arriving soon. One of them is your mate who wants to meet you.”

You huffed, nodding as you came to process the new information. “Just to meet? Nothing more?”

Alice disappeared from sight. A cold arm wrapped itself around your shoulders. “It’s uncertain, I’m afraid.”

What do I do? you pondered, your stomach now a bundle of nerves. “Is there any harm in-?”

 “Absolutely not,” Edward snarled, listening to your thought before you finished saying it. 

On one hand, you couldn’t blame him for the hostility; this man was Edward and Bella’s main worry if the Volturi decided in favour of killing them all.

But on the other hand, you just had to know if this could be the real deal. How many times in life do you discover that soulmates exist and yours is willing and wanting to meet you?

Edward’s grimace vanished as he straightened up. “They’re here.”

The men left and it was only you and Alice. You began to think a hundred miles an hour. Turning around to face her in her iron grip, you put your hands on her shoulders. “Alice, can you see anything involving me getting hurt if I go out there?”

A distant look flickered in Alice’s golden eyes. “I... no, I don’t see anything.”

 “Then let me go out there,” you pleaded.

She sighed. “Y/N, Demetri is dangerous. Trust me you don’t want anything to do with him.”

Demetri. Now you had a name to the handsome face.

"Can I at least be the judge of that for myself? Seriously Alice, do you see me not meeting him at all?"

Her face softened and once more her eyes became vacant as she gazed into the future. A few seconds later her eyes snapped back to your own. "...I guess I do see you meeting him," she informed you grudgingly.

Surpsinging the tiny vampire, you gave her a hug. "Thank you, Alice."

Taking a deep breath, you headed out, vaguely hearing Alice mutter to herself "Edward and Bella are going to kill me."

You heard them before you saw them. Three familiar voices arguing with two unfamiliar ones; it was easy to pick our Carlisle being the calm and diplomatic one whereas Jasper and Edward were not.

"Your coven has done enough, leave," you heard Edward snarled.

Pausing at the steps, you hovered there, uncertain of what to do. You could see them now - the vampire that wanted to meet you was joined by a much taller vampire, who had his hand on your "mate's" shoulder. Gone were their medieval-esque fancy black robes; it surprised you to see that they donned regular clothing.

"That business is the clearing is done with and quite frankly I could care less about," Demetri spat, losing his patience. "Please let me see her."

"No. Not happening."

 “Why aren’t you a filthy hypocrite, Edward.”

Ah, fuck it.

Heart hammering away in your chest, you marched over to the band of arguing vampires. They all turned and watched your approach, Demetri's face softening from the angry scowl he wore just seconds ago.

Jasper raised a hand in warning. "You might wanna go back inside, Y/N."

You swallowed hard, trying to keep any sign of fear or anxiety from bubbling to the surface although you knew when it came to Jasper that was a fruitless effort. "No. This is about me, so I think I want to have a say in this."

"Y/N I really don't think it's a good idea for you to be -" Edward began with an exasperated expression, but you cut him off.

"No! Hell no - you're all trying to decide for me on something that I really should be deciding on myself!" You argued. Your voice wavered with emotion and you let out a shaky breath to try and steel yourself. "Please let me be the judge, guys."

The Cullen men all shared glances with each other. Taking the moment while they were preoccupied, you approached Demetri slowly until you stood before him.

Being up close to him was a little... distracting, you had to admit. His handsome, perfectly sculpted face, his dark blond hair that looked so damn soft up close, those eyes...

It really isn't fair just how intoxicating vampires are to be near, you grumbled to yourself. "Your name is Demetri, right?"

He looked taken aback at your words, his lips parting slightly. You figured it was the forwardness of how you were approaching him; if only you knew that hearing his name fall from your lips made him melt inside.

"If I agree to speak with you, will you swear that you won't do anything to hurt me?" It was hard to keep the anxiety out of your voice now. Lower lip beginning to quiver, you kept your gaze hard and determined.

Demetri nodded, a serious look in his eyes. "I swear, harming you would never be my intention."

If they could breathe, everyone would have been holding their breath while they waited for your response. You were mulling it over internally, thinking of the pros and cons of potentially having a vampire lover in your life.

 Nodding in response, you half-turned to the others who were watching the exchange. “Privacy would be great?” you said shakily, not meeting anyone’s eyes.

 Edward was about to protest when Carlisle shook his head at him, motioning him and Jasper to follow. The second Volturi vampire that had come with Demetri looked at the two of you curiously and with a hint of amusement. Winking at his friend, the next moment you blinked he was gone.

 “Well... looks like it’s just us now,” you laughed nervously, struggling to meet Demetri’s eyes. All the gusto you had built up earlier was lone gone now you were alone with him.

Demetri gave you a small smile. “It would appear so.”

 “So, how do we...” you struggled to find the words that fit the situation, “go about this? I’m not sure where to begin to what we should discuss if I’m being completely honest.” God, way to sound like a complete idiot, well done me.

To your surprise, he laughed quietly. “No need to feel embarrassed, love. I’m at a loss on what to do here too.”

 “I’m n-not embarrassed,” you stammered a little too quickly, only making Demetri laugh more.

 “The redness in your cheeks say otherwise.”

Your face burnt up more as if to prove his point. Resting one of your hands on your flaming cheeks, you smiled shyly at him, offering your free hand. “I’m Y/N, by the way.”

Clasping your hand gently in both of his, Demetri’s laughter faded until he was simply beaming at you with a look of pure happiness. The way he looked at you was infectious; you couldn’t help but return that same amount of happiness in your own smile. A good sign so far, for the whole soulmate thing.

 “It’s my pleasure to meet you, Y/N,” he murmured, bringing your clasped hand up to his lips and pressing them against your knuckles softly. “You have no idea as to how much our meeting means to me.”

If your heart wasn’t hammering away before it certainly was now. “I had to give this a chance,” you replied breathlessly. “I feel like I’d have been an idiot if I turned up an opportunity to meet you.”

 “I’m thankful you didn’t.”

 “Same here. So,” you began, biting your lip as you tried to think of where to begin, “would you be interested in going someplace more private to talk about all this? It would probably be a little awkward to go back inside and it’s kinda freezing out, sadly I don’t handle the cold as well as you vampires do...” You trailed off as you began to ramble nervously.

But Demetri only continued to smile, tilting his head to the side a little almost as if he was trying to get a better look at you. “I can take us somewhere if you like? I may be old but I know of some appropriate places for these kinds of discussions.”

 “Asking me on a date, are you? and we’ve only known each other for two minutes!”

 “Actually love, I’d say it’s closer to five minutes, therefore, my whisking you away is completely appropriate.”

You giggled at the playful banter. “Fair argument. Fine,” you pulled your hands back and lifted them up with a shrug, “whisk me away, Demetri.”

His soft smile turned devilish, a playful glint in his ruby coloured eyes as his name fell from your lips and before you knew it your feet were no longer on the ground and your chest was pressed against a solid surface, making you squeal. You were now on his back piggy-back style. “You’d better hold on tight.”

Knowing what was coming you tightened your hold on him for dear life. “Please don’t drop me whatever you do,”

The vibrations in his torso from his low chuckling against your chest soothed your anxiety, and you felt his hands gently tighten on your thighs where he held you. “Never in a thousand years, love,” he assured you.

As the cold wintery air began to whip your face, you buried your face into the crook of his neck. You believed him with every fiber of your soul, and your heart had never felt so full.

#this short fic is DONE and it sparks JOY #my fics #volturi #the volturi #demetri volturi #demetri volturi x reader #twilight saga #twilight saga fanfiction #volturi imagines #twilight renaissance #twilight revival