#as someone who has been in the fandom since the dawn of time i witnessed at first hand how the love for her slowly diminished over the years | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

londonalozzy · 3 years

Text

Stop Pretending (TFATWS)

Fandom: Marvel

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Genre: Romance, Angst

Summary: The reader thinks she's doing a stellar job of keeping her feelings for a certain soldier buried deep inside. Turns out, all it takes is an observant new friend to begin the unraveling of her most precious secret (Spoilers for TFATWS)

Masterlist

Word: Pretence

Definition: A way of acting that is intended to deceive people.

Example: Saying that he's just a friend when he's really the love of your life.

Your POV

Being caught in the midst of war is something that I, (Y/N) (Y/L/N) know all too well. As a war vet, former shield agent, and now Avenger I'm used to being centered amongst conflict. When the fight begins within me though, a battle between what I want and what I think is right, how will I react? Will I listen to my heart, my head, or will the winner be chosen for me?

Delacroix, Louisiana.....

I love my sleep, always have, always will. It's not necessarily the comfort of the bed, the quiet or even the rest. It's the fact that I'm at peace when I sleep. My life has a tendency to fall apart when I'm awake, so anything that will put that off for as long as possible I savor.

I wish it were the same for a certain super soldier in my life. I look forward to going to bed, everything calms down then, and for most people it's the same. For Bucky however, it's when everything starts, the nightmares, the terrors, the seemingly unending darkness. If only I could take his pain away like he has with mine.

For the last few weeks, my life had, for want of a better word, been hectic. Hectic to say the least.

After the eventual defeat of Thanos and the loses we endured as a result, I thought naively that life might calm down a bit, that I'd have time to breathe, to live. How wrong I was.

It all began with John Walker being announced to the world as the new Captain America.

I was baking cookies with Morgan in the Stark family kitchen when it came over the radio. As that latest turn of events sunk in, my first thoughts were of Bucky, what that would do to him. Not even an hour later I had said my goodbyes and was on my way to help him get the shield back.

Since then even more had happened. We'd regrouped with Sam, busted Zemo out of prison which in turn ruffled the feathers of Ayo and the Dora Milaje. We came face to face with Morgenthou and the Flag Smashers, and finally witnessed the man who thought he could even compete with Steve, make himself judge, jury and most significantly executioner.

After that went around the world we knew we had to end it sooner rather than later. It couldn't get much worse than Captain America becoming a murderer. We got the shield back, which was a fight all in itself. Handed Zemo over to Ayo, to try and recompense for the distrust we'd instilled in the people who'd helped us so much. Then we travelled to stay with Sam and his family in Louisiana whilst we waited for Karli's next move.

This is where we found ourselves now, in the eye of it, the calm before the storm.

Waking up in the Wilson households guest room, I was greeted to the golden hue of the rising sun penetrating through the single glaze windows, and the melodic sounds of gulls on the hunt for their morning meal down by the docks.

Actually, no that's not right. What I could hear was most certainly not birds, and it was definitely not melodic. What were those boys doing?

Quickly and quietly I threw on the first clothes I could get my hands on and made my way downstairs towards the noise. What caught my attention when I discovered the source, was not the two youngest Wilson boys playing with our newly reacquired shield in the living room, but the super solider who was blissfully ignorant to it all, sleeping peacefully on the couch in front of them. I don't think I'd ever been so happy.

"Right you two, if you're determined to play Avengers all morning then I suggest you re-assemble in the back yard. You're gonna wake Bucky up," I whispered out in one breath, stepping between the boys, then placing my hands on their backs and tip toeing them towards the door.

"So what if we wake him up? It's gone 10am," Cass questioned in protest, pulling on his sneakers and jacket.

"Exactly! Which is why if you do as I say, I will make you the biggest plate of waffles for breakfast that you've ever seen."

The boys eyes lit up. "Can we have ice cream with it? Mum never lets us have ice cream for breakfast, and I'm sure there's a tub of Stark raving hazelnuts in the freezer," AJ clapped in muted excitement. "Oh, for God's sake.....Yes. You can have whatever you want if you get out of this house now and keep the noise down."

Once the boys were outside, I made my way over to the kitchen, stopping on the way to lean over my favourite senior citizen and make sure that he was still peaceful in his slumber. He'd never looked so relaxed, so at ease. It was a brand new Bucky I'd never seen before, a Bucky that had my heart pounding for him even more than it normally did. Not that he knew any of that.

Half an hour later and up to my elbows in waffle mix, I failed to notice my new friend and host Sarah making her way to my side at the counter, the huge smile on my face not going unnoticed. "What's got you grinning like the Cheshire cat, like I need to ask?"

"Bucky's sleeping. Isn't it amazing?" I spoke softly, bouncing up and down on my feet as I did so.

"And why is that?" She couldn't looked more confused if she tried.

"In all the years I've known him, I don't think I've ever woken up before he has. If his nightmares don't keep him awake all night, they normally have him up before the crack of dawn. I don't think I've ever seen him so still."

"Good answer," Sarah nodded in a hush, understanding why this meant so much to me, but not done yet with her morning interrogations, "Now on to my next question......"

"I'm already not liking the sound of this."

"Sleeping Beauty over there follows you around like a little puppy dog. He hangs on your every word, looks at you like you hung the stars or something. It's pretty obvious how crazy he is about you, so when are you gonna stop pretending that you're not head over heels in love with him?"

"I don't know what you're talking about Wilson," I smiled forcefully, making out like the waffle maker deserved my attention way more than the conversation I was being made to have.

This was all Sam's doing, without a shadow of a doubt. He'd tried to have this conversation with me on multiple occasions and I shut him down every time. He obviously hadn't given up like I thought he did, and decided to draft in his sister. He is seriously gonna regret it when I find him.

"Sure you know what I'm talking about. Sam sees it, I don't even know you that well and I see it. The only reason Bucky doesn't, is because he doesn't believe he could ever be that lucky. You're a smitten kitten." These Wilson's are all as annoying as each other.

Knowing I wasn't getting out of this one, I grabbed Sarah by the arm and pulled her right into the corner of the room, trying my best to keep this convo as private as possible. "Look, I'm not pretending.....I'm ignoring. There's a difference."

"Care to explain what that difference is?" Sarah spoke softly, but with a sarcastic air.

Turning to look over my shoulder at the subject of our conversation, making sure he was still safely in the land of nod, I decided to just be honest. Sarah was much like her brother. Once she wanted to get to the bottom of something she wasn't about to give up.

"I love Bucky, more than I've ever loved anyone...and that terrifies me," the rawness of finally being honest making my voice shake, and tears come to my eyes. "Nat was like my sister, and she's dead. Tony was the closest I've ever gotten to having a Dad...and he's dead too. Then there's Steve, Vision, God knows where Wanda is....Everyone I love, either leaves or dies. If I admit my feelings for Buck then I face the risk of losing him too."

"Do you have any idea how crazy you sound right now? He's not going to die because you love him (Y/N)."

Silent tears were falling now. I was revealing my deepest fears to a woman I'd only known a few days, and I'm not underplaying it when I say it was like a colossal weight off my chest, a release I didn't know I needed. "Believe me...I know, but I can't take that risk. I can't lose anyone else, especially not him."

"Let's just say for a second that you're right, that there is some higher power somewhere, set on destroying everyone you love. Do you really think ignoring your feelings is going to make them disappear?" I didn't know what to say to that. "Natasha and Stark died so that everyone could continue living, and (Y/N) you're not living as long as you keep this to yourself. They wouldn't want that for you."

"But what if I lose him?" I whispered with a choked sigh.

"Then at least he'll die knowing how you felt about him. After everything he's been through don't you think he deserves to know there's someone out there who loves him like you do?"

"Of course..."

Sarah's lips pulled upwards in a satisfied smirk, wrapping her arm around my shoulder and giving it a comforting squeeze, "then you owe it to yourself, and to him, to tell him the truth."

"Why do all you Wilson's have to be so clever?" I voiced in mock irritation, pushing her away from me and acting like I was annoyed she had gotten one up on me.

"I don't know," she thought aloud and with a cheeky grin, grabbing a plate to start piling on the long forgotten waffles, "I think it might be the sea air or something."

"Nah, it's in the genes," I chuckled quietly, grabbing my jacket and deciding it was time to get this conversation wrapped up. "I'll go find Sam and the boys for breakfast. Clear my head a little bit."

"You promise you're gonna tell him?" Sarah stopped me as I went to push the door open.

"I'll think about it."

3rd person POV

Once (Y/N) was out of ear shot, Sarah couldn't help but start jumping up and down in excitement, clapping her hands loudly as she did so. That went even better than she thought it would, and she was so proud of herself. Sarah Wilson could now add matchmaker to her resume.

"Coast is clear Barnes. You can open your eyes now."

(Y/N) had no idea what she had metaphorically walked into just minutes earlier, entering that very revealing conversation with her overly inquisitive host.

What drew Sarah to come down that morning was the sounds of both the front porch door opening and the smell of homemade waffles wafting up the stairs. As she entered the kitchen she was met with two sights. One being (Y/N), facing the counter and looking very smiley, the other being a wide awake super soldier who was just laying on the couch and staring at her, the sole object of his affection. Sarah could work with this.

Every time (Y/N) turned back in his direction, Bucky would close his eyes and pretend to be asleep again. He had never slept so soundly, so peacefully, thoughts of (Y/N) and his new friends filling his nightmare free dreams.

He'd initially woken to (Y/N) ushering the boys outside because she was afraid they would wake him up. He didn't want to disappoint her by proving her right. Besides, he liked just watching her move around the kitchen, completely unaware he was observing her the whole time. He had no idea about the conversation that was just about to happen.

After (Y/N) had left and Sarah had confirmed so, Bucky sat himself up, his body shaking with adrenaline and a look of complete shock fixed on his face. Had he definitely woken up, or had the whole thing been a part of his dream? Did (Y/N) seriously just admit that she was in love with him?

Bucky didn't know how to react, didn't know what to say as he looked up at a smug Sarah from his spot. All he'd ever wanted was for (Y/N) to feel the same way about him as he did about her. Now he knew that she did.

"You're welcome by the way."

460 notes · View notes

closhelby · 3 years

Text

Black Hand.

Fandom: Peaky Blinders

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Reader

Warnings: usual Peaky shit

Prompt: none bar the scene itself.

Word Count: 1,796.

Author note: wrote this three fucking times I’m at my wits end! Unsure to make this into a few parts.

——

Y/N woke again, at the crack of dawn, rolling over checking her watch, 5.36AM. This was the usual for her, since leaving Birmingham she could barely sleep past 6am, since the breakdown of her marriage.

It was Christmas morning, the first she was spending with only one of her two children. Charlie, y/n’s eldest son was spending his Christmas with his father this year, since splitting y/n and Tommy regularly had sex behind her boyfriends back, and then she fell pregnant, with her now two year old Harry. However, Tommy wasn’t aware of this child being his, and as far as everyone else was aware it was Roberts child.

Y/n rolled out of bed, and began to wash and get ready for the day ahead. She sat at her dressing table, thinking, as she did regularly, how it would’ve been if they didn’t spit. There was still very clearly tension there, sexual especially. Due to this, y/n cut all interaction with Tommy, whenever they needed to talk over Charlie, she would get nanny’s and maids to travel with him.

Just finishing her makeup, finishing her all off with a spritz of perfume and putting on her watch, which now shown it as 6.56am. Y/n went downstairs, starting to make herself a cup of tea when she was startled with the letterbox chattering as the postman put today’s Mail. She moved over to the door, bending over to pick up the letters, opening the first one to reveal a white card with a black hand on the front.

“Fuck!” Y/n’s heart started beating at a rapid rate, she knew that this meant kill or be killed. She needed to get her and Harry out of there ASAP. They weren’t far behind and they already knew where she lived. She ran back upstairs, grabbing overnight bags and stuffing them with her most valuable items and clothes she could possibly wear before doing the same for Harry. All while trying to be as quiet as she could because she didn’t want to wake Rob.

Y/n ran from the house to the car sat on the front drive, she didn’t even bother to ask a driver. She was going alone. Leaving alone. Without an explanation. Despite the severity of the situation, this was brewing for a long time. The current relationship was a cover up. Y/n accepted the fact that the only man she will ever love will remain Thomas Shelby, and she knew it would be the same for him. And I think that’s why they both didn’t file for a divorce.

Quickly packing the car with things she may need for herself and Harry, she ran back upstairs to collect the sleeping boy from his bed and placed him into the front seat of the car. He continued to sleep throughout the car ride, back to Small Heath. Y/n knew Tommy like the back of her hand, she knew that everyone that is associated with the Shelby name would have been dealt a black hand, and knew the only place they could possibly be safe would be in the polluted streets of Birmingham.

Turning the car onto Watery Lane, as all those childhood memory’s flooded back. From when she ran about with John as a kid, to when her and Ada would get into trouble together in her early teens, all the way to building a large profitable business with her husband, all came flooding to her. A rush of emotion, clearly visible on her face as the car came to a halt outside the once betting den. Y/n rarely had any emotion showing, only Tommy would see that in the many nights they spent alone, but that was the same for both of them. They acted tough to everyone else but vulnerable for each other. The bond they had, partners in crime, was admired, despite them both being gangsters.

Tommy was very clearly heartbroken from the downfall in their relationship, he also believed that y/n was the only woman for him in the long run. But the only way he felt that he could get over that was her under someone else. He turned to Lizzie on the regular, and as y/n still kept in contact with Ada, she knew about this. Y/n was very alike Tommy in this sense, if she needed to find something out, it would always come her way, weather she needed to look for it or not. Ultimately they shared a child together, technically two, but there was still so much love there between the both of them.

“Fucking hell,” y/n muttered before kicking in the door that stood before her. Her two year old son clutching to her chest, still fast asleep as she walked towards the family she still loved dearly. Pol loved her, loved her like her own, but they both had a similar trait, they never backed down. And sometimes like Tommy, they would argue for days on end.

Y/n stood before the table, where all but Tommy sat before her. She quickly scanned the room, noticing a blonde woman, she knew was Linda, but hadn’t met was looking at her with a very foul face on her. Ada on the other hand was smiling, excited to see her best friend after years of being away. Tommy standing to her left, eyes wide wondering why his wife was stood before him, in small Heath, with a young child in her hand.

Pol broke the silence first, “What the fuck are you doing here? Tommy tell ya?”

“No however, since you know, I find out absolutely anything I need to,” y/n spoke directing a foul look to Lizzie who was stood over in the corner, “I have also been dealt a black hand.”

There was a mutter of fuck sakes throughout the room, as they realised this was a bit more real than before. Tommy then started to talk about the issue at hand.

“Why are you starting when Johns not here?”

The room fell cold, distant and all eyes were trying to avoid hers. But Tommy wasn’t, he didn’t avoid her gaze as y/n turned to look at him. He very rarely lied to her, he simply couldn’t get away with it if anything, y/n found out everything.

“Fucking ‘ell Tommy, tell me!”

“John was killed this morning, on his front door step infront of his wife.”

Tears started to form in the once emotionless woman, the room felt as though it was caving in on them. Her legs felt heavy, like she could collapse to the ground at any moment, but her head felt light. She quickly muttered to Tommy, handing the baby over, stumbling back to process what she had just been told. John was before all this, they were best friends since they were about 4. They went all throughout school together, and because y/n dad had passed before he could walk her down the isle, John did.

“Those fuckin’ bastards! Christmas Day! Im going to fucking kill them myself,” y/n screamed in frustration.

“She won’t cope well with this,” Ada spoke quietly enough that the table could hear but y/n couldn’t. Ada approached her, giving her a soft cuddle of comfort. Y/n didn’t cry, she didn’t cry infront of anyone. But she was very close today.

She composed herself, breathing out before standing up, “why did I have to marry into this shit?”

“Why haven’t you divorced him?”

Ada knew the answer, she always had.

They both moved back over to the table, Ada returning to her seat while y/n stood by Tommy’s side. He still stood there holding his own child, without the knowledge of it. He continued to speak about the issues they were currently facing with Luca Changretta, but y/n wasn’t even listening to what he was saying, simply zoning out to how weird her life was. She’s looking at the love of her life while they’re no longer together, holding their second son that he has no clue about.

“Y/n?”

Her head quickly shot up following the direction of the voice. Arthur.

“Hm?”

“Peace or truce?” Tommy spoke.

“Peace”

“Very well. Six peace, two truce.” He quickly handed Harry back over to y/n before heading back upstairs. The group got up and left to do their own thing, while Ada sat at the table waiting for the catch up that was well needed between them both.

“Two seconds, I’m just gonna put Harry up to bed.” Ada nodded in response as y/n made her way upstairs to put Harry to bed. She opened the door to find Charlie sleeping in the small bed, leaning over to put Harry at the back of him, giving both of them a peck on the cheek before turning to see Tommy in the door way.

“Your new boyfriend is the dad? But your not married to him?”

“No I’m not married to him.”

“So you had a child out of wedlock?”

She sighed. She wasn’t going to lie to him anymore, there was enough damage and if she knew she would have to spend the next few months living with him, she needed to get it out there as soon as possible.

“No, I’m married.”

“yes, to me.”

Y/n walked over to him, pulling him into the room and closing the door behind him, aware of the fact this house was full. He took a seat on the small chair in the corner, while y/n stood slightly back from him.

“Remember that last fuck we had. Before I refused to see you.”

He nodded.

“I refused to see you because I was pregnant, and I knew it was yours.”

“Fuck sake y/n.” Tommy spoke, running his hands through his hair.

The room then went silent. The two of them not knowing what to say next, for the first time in years they were speechless.

Y/n decided to break it, “He knows. Rob knows he’s not his, he can see it, but it’s never been mentioned. Harry also knows who you are, I’ve shown him pictures of you that I have.”

Tommy stood up abruptly, making his way over to her. His hands wrapped round her waist as he pulled her closer to him. Y/n was looking, and clearly getting lost in his blue eyes. Tommy leaned in to her, their lips meeting softly,y/n began to kiss back. The feeling this was what they both had longed for. Both of them having sex with others that meant absolutely nothing to them. The bedroom door swings open to reveal Finn stood there, his mouth hung wide.

“A - Ada’s wondering where you are?”

Y/n smiled before pulling out the embrace, muttered a thanks then proceeded to go downstairs. She turns round as she’s on the third stair down, “don’t say a thing Finn,”

#cillian murphy #tommy shelby #tommy shelby x y/n #tommy shelby fluff #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby fanfic #peakyxtommy #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinder imagine #peaky blinders

301 notes · View notes

demonslayedher · 3 years

Note

any random trivial thoughts you have about the lives of the slayers? i like to think that nezuko keeps the acorns inosuke gave her in a jar as a collection and that inosuke is determined to fill the jar completely, hehe. also, do you think an official announcement of nezuko’s existence was made to the lower ranked demon slayers or did it travel through word of mouth. imagine oblivious demon slayers visiting the butterfly mansion, only to be greeted/encountered by nezuko

If I may add to that thought about Nezuko having a jar, Gotouge has stated that Nezuko is okay getting tossed around and bumping her head in the box because she heals from it immediately, but one of this days Tanjiro is going to open it and it will pour with acorns and glass shards, and she'll just be sitting there glaring with disappointment. (Hopefully Nezuko keeps the jar in a safe place at the Butterfly Mansion instead!)

As for telling the whole Corp that Nezuko got the OK from Oyakata-sama and the Pillars, I can see that being like a low-key announcement that spreads like a rumor, just kinda whenever the crows get around to that detail between missions. It makes sense that Oyakata-sama wanted to tell the Pillars first, and since the Pillar meeting was coming up pretty soon when Tanjiro passed the Final Selection, Oyakata-sama had probably planned as soon as he got Urokodaki's letter than he was going to have Tanjiro and Nezuko at that meeting. Even if we set the Pillars aside, though, there's wide-spread hatred against demons throughout the Corp. It probably helped to have the Pillars generally on board first. I can imagine the rest of the Corp being very curious (if cautious) about Nezuko, and although we see characters who get the pleasure of spending time with her getting to baby her, most Corp members who meet Tanjiro probably don't get to meet Nezuko face to face. Daytime is problematic, or Nezuko would otherwise be asleep a lot of the time even if Tanjiro is busy in settings when he'd meet other Corp members. Still, I think Tanjiro's reputation as a nice guy would spread even faster, so even people who were iffy about Nezuko would probably get to know Tanjiro and be like, "oh, she's probably fine."

But if we're going to get into trivial headcanons about the Slayers' everyday lives, you know who I think gets babied more than Nezuko?

Inosuke. Most of the Corp members are freaked out by him at first, but as it dawns on them that Inosuke grew up all alone, it may bring out a nurturing side in them, and it makes everyone happy to see him get better at fitting in among humankind. They get to feel proud of him as he picks up on limited amounts of etiquette and gets marginally better at picking up names, but most of them are still likely to make a quick exit when he starts getting too rambunctious.

Zenitsu, however, is someone who should know better and most people find him really annoying until they go through Pillar Training with him, as that's the strongest bonding experience most of the Corp members have ever shared, aside from the really close bonding that probably occurs a lot among members of the same Final Selection batches. However, the Corp members who have witnessed Zenitsu in action (and who were rescued by him) have nearly the same awe for him that they have for the Pillars, so they never say anything to him about how indebted they feel.

Since more of the Corp members have met Inosuke and Zenitsu than have met Nezuko, Tanjiro's saintly reputation mostly stems from how much of those two numbskulls' company he can stand, and how he can keep them in line (keeping a demon sister in line must be easy in comparison). Also, Tanjiro is not just good at tending the fire to make good rice, his sense of smell makes him a master at seasoning food perfectly, and many Corp members have cried thinking of how their own mothers never cooked so well. Tanjiro is also very good at tending to people when they fall ill.

The Pillars are so advanced in Breath technique that they don't generally catch colds unless they are recovering from serious injury or like, poisoning themselves. Normal Corp members catch minor illnesses all the time, though, and that's part of why they're so slow to advance. They tend to have to take time for lots of little things instead of just major injuries sustained in battle. They still train as much as possible to make sure they don't get rusty when it's time to take a mission again. These recovery periods are some of the only times when they can maintain a reasonable sleep schedule, many of the members who survive to old age feel long term effects of sleep deprivation in addition to lingering injuries. Since the Corp members can't very well engage in long-term goals, simple pastimes are encouraged in the daylight hours to help keep them in the moment. The Butterfly Mansion and most of the Wisteria houses are well stocked with board games like Sugoroku and card games like Karuta, as well as tools for shuttlecock and paper for origami.

While many of the Corp members try to be virtuous, and in indeed there are other circles that have their own sort of main-character like Tanjiro equivalent, there are still those who have less polished, or certainly far less positive character. The rougher members tend to spend their salary and free time on vices. Oyakata-sama understands his children are under a lot of stress and turns a blind eye to it (or two blind eyes, I guess).

Different Breaths tend to come with their own cultures, and overtime different Cultivators tend to get different reputations based on the members they send into the Corp. Like, "Oh, Yamada-sensei? Then you must be a stickler for the 10th form" or "Yamaguchi-sensei? Are you okay out there? I heard he's real half-assed on Breath technique." There is a certain amount of awe that students of former Pillars automatically get, and although some of that is due to pride and jealously, people who have been in the Corp long enough tend to get over these notions and just realize that everyone's doing their best. Since they're core Breath styles there may be other Thunder and Flame Breath users throughout the Corp from different Cultivators, but, pardon the pun, they can't hold a candle to the students of former Pillars (or the Rengoku clan in general) and it's highly, highly unlikely any of them would ever get close to the same level of mastery. There's plenty of Muratas in every Breath, basically.

Speaking of Murata, he and others like him probably had an easy time of settling down and getting married after retirement. Years of experience as swordsmen certainly gave them a mature edge over the average Joes they otherwise would be compared to, but they also have the advantage of not being freaks. Takeuchi remains life-long friends with Yushiro.

The young maidens of Wisteria houses get flirted with all the time. Many of the Corp members are starved of TLC, and while the maidens of the Wisteria houses are polite and have deep respect for the work the swordsmen do, they know they likely will not know most of them for long. However, when there is a true connection between a Corp member and a Wisteria House family member, they tend to make very solid matches. Girls make up a slim percentage of the swordsmen in the Corp, and this is why they tend to get sent on undercover missions a lot more. Demons tend to put their guards down more around women, as they'd more likely be on the look out for male swordsmen.

Girls make up a larger proportion of the Kakushi, and traditionally feminine skills are highly prized. Gotou is very proud of his sewing skills, even though he only does small repairs and has never been tasked with tailoring full uniforms. The Kakushi use a lot of code words and have a very insular work culture that is hard for outsiders to break into; even Oyakata-sama finds himself confused by a lot of it, but he appreciates that it makes them efficient and mostly leaves them be to organize themselves as they see fit (his orders are still absolute, though, so none of them are aware how much autonomy they effectively have.)

Hand signs like "don't breathe" and "don't listen" are unique to the Corp (yes, I have looked them up, consensus in the Japanese fandom is that they are unique to KnY), and taught by Cultivators. Inosuke didn't have a Cultivator to teach him so it took him a while to catch on the existence of hand signs. He makes up his own confusing hand signs to impress people with how flexible his joints are.

For many, Pillar Training was harder than undergoing Cultivation (but still less harrowing than the Final Selection). In Cultivation they tend to get specialized attention from someone who cares about them and actually knows a thing or two about how teaching works. Pillar Training does not fit this explanation at all, especially in the teaching department. As mentioned before, this is when a lot of Corp members who used to find Zenitsu insufferable come around and start to appreciate him more, for they survived different stages of training together, and every time he blew his top and complained, they were grateful he gave (loud) voice to what they were thinking but were too afraid to say. Instead of getting down and depressed, it riles them up enough to keep at it, however ridiculous the Pillar's demands are. Suffering under the Pillars also broke down perceived barriers between different ranks, building a more solid level of comradery among a lot of the Corp. However, this was also the most time most of the Corp members ever got to spend with the Pillars, who they always felt were untouchable and who they feared bothering. They feel very genuine affection for them by the time they all enter the final battle.

Once Inosuke figures out that Zenitsu can only bring out his full abilities in his sleep, he tries to goad Zenitsu into fighting him at full strength by insulting him in his sleep. He did throw a really good punch at him one time, but usually he only sleep-argues back. Other times Inosuke hits a sore spot and Zenitsu starts sleep-crying, in which case Inosuke gets bored and leaves. Once Tanjiro realizes this about Zenitsu (thanks to Inosuke having point-blank explained it to him), he puzzles over it and figures Zenitsu may not be aware of how powerful and helpful he is, and this hurts his confidence, but then again, how can he not know if he's so aware of his surroundings even in his sleep? As Zenitsu sleeps, Tanjiro has been puzzling over this a long time and how he might best be able to help Zenitsu reach his full confident potential, and by the time Zenitsu wakes up and drowsily looks over at Tanjiro, Tanjiro looks him in the eye and very seriously asks, "Zenitsu, what is your problem?" Naturally, Zenitsu interprets this as Tanjiro suddenly being very disappointed in him, and Tanjiro has unwittingly done more harm than good.

On the contrary, Tanjiro has unwittingly done a lot of simple good for most of the PTSD-suffering Corp members with his little throw-away positive comments, just like he did for Muichiro and Aoi. Most of the Corp members have never met Oyakata-sama, so Tanjiro is to many Corp members what Oyakata-sama is to the Pillars. It's like they all have an Oyakata-sama shaped hole in their hearts and Tanjiro just falls into it like a good proxy. After all is said and done and Tanjiro and Nezuko read all the kind wishes left for them in deceased Corp members' wills, Tanjiro is consumed with some guilt that he can't place faces to all the names, though he remembers the majority of them. While his memory is still fresh he works hard to recall the ones who escaped him, and then he makes sure to refresh his memory every year with annual visits to the graves.

#kny fandom theories and meta #or just general headcanons #but they have their basis in little fanbook details like favorite games and such #Kimetsu no Yaiba #Demon Slayer

82 notes · View notes

cryinginthebackseat · 3 years

Text

you’ve got more poison than sugar - part i

AO3 part ii

Fandom: Call Of Duty

Pairing: Russell Adler x Bell

Words: 4.009

Summary: Russell Adler should have known better that it wouldn’t take an entire nation or continent to bring him to his knees.

Warnings: just swearings, sexual tension, blood, mentions of past abuse and brainwashing. adler being that manipulative asswipe like usual.

Author’s note: i don't know what i'm doing. one moment, i was watching the walkthrough of the new call of duty game, found myself curious, acutely curious by that guy with the scars and shades on- a younger, shadier (no pun intended) Robert Redford in Spy Game and oh my... fast forward to 2 weeks later, here we are.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

A house somewhere on foreign soil,

Where ageless lovers call,

Is this your goal, your final needs,

Where dogs and vultures eat,

Committed still I turn to go.

I put my trust in you.

A Means To An End - Joy Division (1980)

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

It's mystifying how little she talks. Or when she does, it's always in fragments. Like a crossword puzzle in your local newspaper, but several letters are missing. He initially thought maybe MK-Ultra fucked her head or worse, if it hasn't worked at all, but the more he watches her, the more he realizes it's just the way she is. And it's ironic because he named her Bell. He expected her to chime like a goddamn goldfinch yet here they are.

But he won't be fazed. Russell Adler is a man who's stopped at nothing in getting what he wanted before, he sure as hell won't stop now for a close-mouthed science project.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“We've got a job to do, Bell."

It intrigues him, every time, the way the words trigger something deep within her psyche, the way her eyes change, her body stands a little straighter, like a machine ready to function at his disposal. It reminds Adler of one of those cartoons he watched when he was a kid about wizards and magic words, except there are no musical dance numbers playing in the background or a talking cricket perching on his shoulder. This is his power over her, over the USSR, over Perseus. That monstrous filth. It really does take a beast to tame another.

Although he surmises calling Bell one would be superfluous.

She barely looks like one, but Adler knows too well than to underestimate her. Just because Bell hasn’t shown her set of claws, that doesn’t mean she’s harmless, delicate, like a miniature China Doll in his breast pocket.

Bell never offered him her reply before, but now, now, she nods, head almost bows, obedient pretty thing, and says:

“Yes, Adler.”

So it goes.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

It takes West Berlin for Adler to realize she’s left-handed.

She wears her watch on her right hand, smokes with that same said hand only when she’s writing or moving her pieces for an impromptu late-night game of chess against Lazar. And she always wears her gloves all the time- leather, black, lined with silk and pretty, small buttons on the cuffs, covering those striking red nails underneath. Whether it is for the theatrics or an old habit of hers, he can't really tell.

He doesn’t know why he begins to take notice of these mundane details about Bell, but rationalizes because he’s never been in the same room with this version of her, post-brainwash Bell, for more than 10 minutes. And for all intents and purposes, there’s still a lot of question marks surrounding her character; who is she? Where did she come from? What is her connection to Perseus?

Are they in a possession of a walking, breathing bomb about to destroy them all or the West’s only salvation?

He supposes he’ll find out soon enough.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Adler hears Bell from his table, typing busy on the computer- barely blinking- all soaked up in that caffeine-infused energy at 1 am. She's always like that, he learns, when it comes to working, always with that steel determination, pulling out all the stops as long as it gets the job done- that Soviet discipline at it's finest.

Reminds him a little of himself when he's young.

Adler walks up to her.

“You done for the night?” A shake of her head is her only response. He sighs. “You should go home, Bell.”

“You go. I’ll lock up behind you,” Bell replies, low and monotone; that youthful stubborn.

If she was any other person, he would probably commend her for such fierce willpower, but she is Bell, the walking conundrum, his ace in the hole. Call him paranoid, but the idea of her having the safehouse for herself does nothing but raises every alarm in his head.

“No, we’re going home,” he says instead, tone brooking no argument and she frowns at the screen, her fingers stop moving then looks up at him with those goddamn empty eyes. "Come on, it's late anyway."

She doesn't say anything. Adler wishes he could read her mind- or crack that lovely skull on the back of her head, dissect her brain, learn its secrets and answers.

Adler has his gun with him. It wouldn’t take long. A quick, true shot to the heart to keep the brain intact. He’d have Hudson contact one of his people inside BND and he'd deliver the brain himself if he has to. They could do it. He heard they’ve been studying inmates' brains for decades now, anyway.

Before he has a chance to entertain the idea further, though, Bell nods once and rises up from her seat.

Bell walks past him. Her scent, like honeysuckle on ice, hits him like an uppercut in the face. Adler inhales, as if against his will.

He thinks he could get drunk on it.

“Hop in. I’ll drive you back to the hotel,” he says once they’re outside, regretting the decision the moment the words left his lips, but he knows he can’t just leave her on her own at this late hour.

The irony isn’t lost on him, though, considering he just thought about unspooling her brain a few minutes ago.

Bell complies without a protest. Getting inside the passenger seat, wordless still, fingers toying with the radio. An angry, krautrock music comes blaring all over his car. Adler winces, but at least the riot is loud enough to muffle the one's brewing in his head.

"How's your memory these days?"

Bell shrugs. "Nihil novi sub sole." There's nothing new under the sun.

Good, he muses. The least she knows about herself the better.

Though that doesn't mean he's out of the woods yet.

"Listen, from now on, I want you to keep me informed if there's any new progress about your memory or if you've developed any new symptoms. I want to know everything." He steals a sidelong glance at her, making sure she is listening (she always does, but Adler needs an excuse)

(An excuse for what?)

"Alright, Bell?"

"Of course," replies the woman in question.

"Good." Adler shifts his attention back to the road. "Good." Taking a long drag, he considers trying to appeal to her sentimental side. It's not something you'd improvise last minute- at least not with someone you brainwashed to believe you are her mentor/confidant for the past decade, but he's itching to know where he stands with her.

"You know, I'm just tryin' to look out for you, kid."

Her lips twitch but the rest of her visage remains impassive and faraway, more like a flick knife than a woman. The correlation is uncanny.

That's when she inches closer. The space between them bridged. He freezes. Hyper-aware of just how dangerous this is, but can’t bring himself to pull back, to look the other way. Not when her hand reaches out to pluck the cigarette from his mouth, eyes still glued to his, and curls her lips around the filter. One heavy pull, and then she rolls down the window and tosses it out on the side of the road.

"Thought I'd reciprocate the sentiment."

And with that, she leans back in her seat before Adler could even process what has just transpired.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“Welcome back to the land of the living, kid,” Adler greeted her, about a month ago.

Park had insisted that he had to be there for her when she woke up (naturally, Adler had balked at the idea, but at the English woman’s fact-of-the-matter explanation, also because it had somewhat dawned on him last minute the logic behind her machinations- “both of you are supposed to have known each other for years now. If she doesn't see you by her side, she’s going to wonder why”- thus, here he was)

“How are you feeling?”

Bell blinked owlishly and stared at the older man with those bottomless, cat-like eyes that had haunted him since January.

Her gaze eventually softened as recognition flickered across her face.

“Like someone just hit me in the chest with a bulldozer,” she said hoarsely. “Where are we?”

“St. Dismas’ hospital, Pittsburgh.” Adler got up and fetched her a glass of water from the table. “Although not a bulldozer, but bullets did. That, and you hit your head really hard on your way down. Thought we’d lost you there, Bell.”

Bell drank in silence. She’s still watching him, thinking. This was the first time he realized that he couldn’t exactly read her expression and somehow that threw him off.

“What happened?” she asked, one hand mid-air, like she was deciding which to touch first, hesitating and abandoned the idea.

“You don’t remember?” She shook her head. Adler pretended to look remotely distressed about it. “The doctors warned me about this. It must have been because of the fall- heck, I could even still hear that sickening crunch from here.” He dragged his chair closer towards her bed.

“We were in Amsterdam. Remember Fohler?” she shook her head again. “Well, we’d been tracking this son of a bitch for months, but we were chasing him in Amsterdam. He was running away and climbed up some scaffolding. You were about to go up after him,” he recited the fabricated story he, Park and Hudson had crafted. “He shot you and you fell and hit your head against the pavement.”

Bell looked away first, silent. Her hand gingerly touched the back of her head and winced, albeit only slightly.

Adler was almost impressed, if not, disarmed by how calm and composed her reaction was to all of this. But then again, after having had witnessed first-hand how the woman barely flinched under any kind of interrogation technique they threw at her- a personality built for wrestling tigers- he really shouldn’t be surprised.

“Bell, what is the last thing you remember?”

Bell frowned. “Not much. I remember ‘Nam, but-”

“Vietnam? Kid, that was thirteen years ago.” Adler watched the way her throat bopped, like she was swallowing her own blood and the color drained from her face, just like the first time he’d seen her, and proceeded to drop the bomb:

“Bell, the year is 1981.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

"Bell dear, would you mind taking a look at this?"

Park's voice sails from across the room. She says it like it's a compound word: Bell-dear. Like the two words belong together. Bell-dear. 2 syllables, 1 word, 9 characters and that just might be the weirdest thing he hears this year and he heard many things.

"Bell dear?" Adler asks much later, his gravel-and-smoke voice reduced to a whisper, when she delivers a document to his table.

Park shrugs as if that explains everything. "What? I like her."

He's tempted to say you really can't put a term of endearment and someone you brainwashed into submission in the same sentence, but what else is new?

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

They wind up in a bar. It’s called Die Stube and the place’s brimmed with artists and all sorts of leather-clad, Bowie-esque dramatic, chromatic blue eyelids young people chattering over a dirty cloud of smoke.

The two of them colonize a lone booth in the back. It’s dark and the quietest. She orders a beer and he, a scotch and they drink in silence. There are moments where her head would twist to the side, as subtle as a needle and survey the phantasmagorical scene before them, like studying something from a petri dish.

While he’s watching her.

Only to tear his gaze away to the nearest object he can find.

It lands on his watch.

"It’s almost ten. Hudson's contact should be here soon," he announces, if anything to distract himself. She nods mutely in reply, as always, and runs a finger around the rim of her glass.

"The place ain't much of your scene?"

She shrugs, like it's self-evident. "I didn't know this was a scene, though."

"Well, that’s West Berlin for you. A worry-free playground for the hedonists, hipsters and proto-electro NDW enthusiasts with drugs on tap," Adler says, sipping his drink in practiced nonchalance. "Always makes my head spin."

"I guess I remember it differently," Bell replies, tinged with something akin to begrudging.

That warrants his full attention. "What do you remember?”

Bell shrugs again and lights a cigarette instead, menthol, one of those long, skinny cigarettes they only market for women; biding her time, making him wait. She lets the smoke flares from her nostrils so her eyes are veiled.

"It’s hard to explain, but I suppose it’s grittier?” she gesticulates, searching for the right word like she’s skim reading the entire Oxford dictionary in her head. “Bizarrely, infinitely grittier and dimmer? Like being in an underground tunnel and there's not much to see."

Interesting. Maybe she’s recalling one of her ops for Perseus or her mind is confusing her with the world on the other side of the wall.

“Maybe you’re remembering one of our clandestine ops here. It was a few years after Vietnam,” Adler supplies, passing over the tale like bait.

She falls for it, hook, line and sinker.

“Ah, I guess that also explains my fluency in German.”

“I taught you that.” It’s only logical, he decides, that she learned from him. She’s supposed to be his protégé after all.

An elegant brow quirk. "You did?"

"Yeah, though you were already fluent in Latin, Russian, Vietnamese and Portuguese when we first met anyway. You have quite a natural ear, kid.”

She gives him a look. He really can’t categorize it, but it makes it a whole lot harder to fight against her stare.

“What else did you teach me?”

If they were anyone else, the lines could have a potential to entice, to seduce, that winsome, catty-eyelashes coquette, but they aren't anyone else and Bell does not voice it like that. Yet the implication behind the question stirs something in the pit of Adler’s stomach anyway, that tight knot of confusion as it is buried with something else and he finds himself, once again, uncharacteristically speechless.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

That particular question of her stays, even hours later, unbidden. Interspersed with her scent and face.

His emotions are a minefield whenever she’s near now. It evokes that newfound rush of terror within him, like walking on a tightrope or being thrown into the pit to face hundreds of hungry lions, bare hands. It makes Adler questions his every decision, and he can’t have that in his line of work.

Adler lights his sixth cigarette, contemplating everything, nothing. Anything to distract him from her. It's 4 am and he’s exhausted, but his mind won’t stop whirring. This isn’t like him at all- like he's lost somewhere in a Dali-style labyrinth that is his head and he wonders if this is a byproduct of his fear or fascination or confusion for the young woman.

He fears it is all of them.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

(They're only 10 minutes away from East Berlin when he senses it, something akin to burning on his peripheral vision, pulling him like weight.

Bell is staring at him from across the seat.

He cocks his head slightly to the side.

Adler catches the quick, telling quirk of her lips, like she's about to smile but lights a cigarette instead.)

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“Did you hear that?”

Krauss has just crossed the wall and their soles are slippery from the rain. She's panting. Her breath is white like a fog. Adler muses it must be from the running, until his iris trails down to where her hand is clutching his jacket sleeve, the leather creasing like a modulation signal.

“What is it?” Adler asks, hushed. There are no Stasis here, but even one can't be too careful.

“The TV.” She’s gaping at the broken TV next to them. Adler looks at the said object, frowning, then back to her. “Y-you didn’t hear it?”

"Heard what? Bell, the thing's dead."

Bell withdraws from him. Stepping back until her back meets the walls, her eyes seeing and unseeing, like a lens finding focus in the dark, then she closes them, as if trying to regulate her breathing. Adler has never seen her scared shitless of anything before. The sight confuses as it intrigues him.

"Bell, what's going on?" Adler steps closer, but he dares not to touch her.

She shakes her head, dismissive. In just a span of seconds, Bell dons that mask she likes to wear again; deadpan and frustratingly distant. A spike of annoyance drives through him. Just when he thinks he can get through her, there she goes again, retreating behind her palisades.

"Nothing." Bell turns away abruptly and she’s walking again."Let's just go. The others are waiting for us."

He doesn't pry about whatever she heard on the TV- Adler knows better than to beat a dead horse, thank you very much- not even after they save her from Volkov's clutches, after she bashes his head against the steel door and reeks his blood all the way home, it seems superficial at the time.

Until two days later.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The day starts, as it mostly does for the team, with a briefing.

Fifteen minutes in and something like a gasp pulls his attention to her.

That’s when he notices it; her hands are shaking, coffee spilling out of the mug over her hand. A shatter follows. Her mug smashes to smithereens at her feet. She’s swaying, near collapse, like a house of cards about to fall, a hand on her nose.

Adler catches her before she tumbles to the floor.

“Bell!” His arm around her waist tightens, trying to keep her steady. Lazar rushes to their side in a flash and helps him move her to a nearby chair.

"Jesus Christ," he curses, more to himself than to her as he watches blood, a bead of angry red, trickling down her nose. "Sims, get me a washcloth from the bathroom."

He kneels before her once Sims returns with a damp cloth. Nicotine-stained gloved fingers tentatively grasp her chin, holding her still.

“Kid, you alright?” Adler asks, worry bleeds into his voice without him realizing it. He firmly presses the cloth under her nose, his other thumb touches the pulse at her throat- it's almost sickly affectionate. “Bell, talk to me."

Bell looks at him, discombobulated, like he's a figment of her imagination, then blinks. Again and again until she heaves a deep breath.

"I-" she hisses. One hand flies up to her head. "Fuck. My head.”

Adler’s eyes immediately search for Park’s. A knowing look passes over her face and he knows without saying that she's thinking the same thing, like they're attached to the same brain-wire:

MK-Ultra.

There’s a fraction of pause, then Lazar asks, "Should we give her something?”

Before Park can voice her answer, Bell beats her to it. "I already took an anticonvulsant this morning. It should have helped.”

“Wait, this has happened before?” Adler asks.

Bell looks away, a hesitating look shadowing her face. He fears the worst.

“Bell…” he tries again, a slight warning to his tone.

She sighs loudly, as if mentally preparing herself before walking into a storm.

“Yes. Two days ago."

His mind instantly refers to East Berlin, the TV. Trying to connect the dots in his head. It seems far fetched, but now he wonders if she saw something that triggers this. Although he's never read about this on other subjects before, the correlation is just impossible to ignore.

Fuck. He heaves a breath, willing himself to calm down, to think. They can't afford complications at times like these. Not when there's so much at stake right now.

Adler snaps his attention back to Bell when she tries to scramble awkwardly to her feet, swatting his hand away. The hand on her neck immediately reaches for her waist again and pushes her back down onto the chair. His grip's tight enough to leave marks on her skin, but he doesn't care.

"Bell, for fuck's sake, stay still or so help me," he says, exasperated, not letting go of her waist.

"I feel better now." Stubborn little shit.

He is tempted to scream at her face and grab both of her shoulders and shake. “The hell you’re not. Stop fighting it. You’ll only make things worse.”

Her face sours, if only for a millisecond before it morphs into guilt. “I’m sorry.”

Adler watches her for a long moment. It’s only now that he realizes that he’s still holding her waist and the cloth on her face.

He backs away from her like he’s been burnt.

“You should have told me. I thought I made it clear the other night to keep me informed regarding this,” he scolds.

“I’m sorry,” she utters again and she looks so pliable like this, a blank canvas perfumed with obedience and lethal mind. It makes him almost feel sorry for what he has in plan for her once the shit show is over.

“Look, just go back to the hotel and take a day off.” Her mouth cracks open. He raises a silencing hand. “That’s an order, Bell.” But she merely scowls, looking more like jagged ice than a person. Hudson may have just met his match, after all.

“I told you I’m fine.”

“That’s not how it looks to me.”

“It is. It’s my body and I know what I’m feeling, and I’m telling you, I. Feel. Fine.”

His jaw clenches. “Are you disobeying a direct order, agent?”

Bell doesn’t answer, but her whole face remains challenging and hard. Undeterred.

Adler holds his breath. He feels the whole room collectively does the same. It’s like staring down the barrel of a gun and there’s an awful sort of danger to be found in that.

Just when he thinks an imaginary bullet would dig itself into his skin, however, Bell utters, “Of course not.”

And so the woman resumes to her normal, docile self at a drop of a hat. Even when Park steps in and whisks her out of her seat, drives her back to her hotel with Lazar on shotgun.

It doesn’t assuage his worry, though. He’s still restless throughout the day, like a roaring ocean inside a bell jar. She’s never done this before, openly rebels against him. Now, the situation is just bad. Not casually bad or almost-got-shot bad, this is the-entire-Europe-could-turn-into-a-nuclear-wasteland bad, an-armageddon-waiting-to-happen bad.

What if this is the beginning of her old self trying to scratch her way out of the surface? Adler’s blood goes cold at the thought. He is going to have to keep a close eye on this development.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

West Berlin - 1 am, local time.

“How is she?”

“Stable. I’ve administered another dose of Propranolol before I left the hotel. She should be fit as a fiddle in the morning.”

“Tell me, what do you think happened to her?”

“My theory? Traumatic brain injury. A cumulative product of torture, trauma-based mind control and chronic stress. I've read reports about cases like these before in MI6. None of them is still alive to recount the tale, unfortunately."

Adler grips the phone.

“How long do you think we have?”

“Theoretically, 2-3 weeks tops.”

“But?”

He hears Park sighs on the other line. “But then again, none of the subjects I’ve encountered before were like her. So, I suppose it’s still a little too premature to determine at this point."

Adler kneads his temple, feeling the start of that familiar Bell-induced headache forms in his head. Can things just be fucking simple for once?

“We don’t have that much time anyway, Park. And if Hudson gets a wind of this, he’ll want her gone by morning. I can’t let that happen. Not…” he pauses. “Not when we are this close.”

"What are we going to do about her, then?"

Adler sighs.

"Raise the dosages of her drugs,” he says. “And keep an extra eye on her. I think we may be heading into uncharted waters now.”

Tagging: @mvalentine cause you said to tag you with everything i write so 👁👄👁

#russell adler #russell adler x bell #cod bell #cod #call of duty #call of duty black ops #call of duty cold war #cod cold war #alex mason #frank woods #helen park #lawrence sims #jason hudson #lazar azoulay

162 notes · View notes

officerjennie · 3 years

Text

Commission for the ever so lovely @bouncyirwin - who spreads joy, happiness, and support as freely and easily as some people breathe (this fandom wouldn’t be the same without you 💜💜💜💜💜)

---

How anyone could so much as breathe without adoration hitching their efforts around her, Shisui really didn’t know.

This wasn’t even the first time this week he’d found himself staring in awe without a word able to escape him. Sakura had a way of making him dumb to the quick wit and playful flirting that usually came as natural as most any other social interaction to him - he’d always been the social butterfly of his clan, berated for it at times and having his hair fondly tousled at others. And yet here he sat, in the corner of the little restaurant Sakura and her team and her team’s families had all crowded into, unable to absorb any of the chatter or whatever joke had Kakashi snickering behind his book or even what had Naruto and the brat arguing this time.

Sakura seemed content enough to sit back and soak it all in as well, pride in the soft smile that graced her lips, a cup of tea cradled in her hand near her chest in lieu of the spirit that many of her companions had chosen to partake in this evening. And who could blame them? Rare was the day any shinobi party could come back unscathed along with their success, and given the tentative peace between Konoha and Kiri could have been destroyed at the smallest misstep their celebration came with relief felt by the entire village.

It warmed him to no end to see her so content and sure, so proud, none of the hesitance that used to haunt her expressions and tense her body anywhere to be found - the kunoichi that had chased and chased after her teammates had long since caught up and surpassed them in so many ways, and even without being privy to the intimate details of her internal battles Shisui could feel emotion trying to choke him.

Gods, but he had it bad, didn’t he? He forced some of his own tea down, looking away from the woman who had no idea she held his heart so tightly in her grip, scrubbing his face with his free hand in an attempt to clear his head. Admiration was one thing - very understandable in this case, given Sakura set the precedent for strong and capable shinobi who could punch a ravine into existence - but they could hardly even be called friends if he was honest with himself. So openly staring at her with his heart in his eyes could definitely count as creepy.

Maybe he needed more hobbies.

“Not really like you to hang out on the sidelines.”

It was a bit embarrassing to be snuck up on like that. He hoped his surprise wasn’t too obvious as he peeked through his hands, finding the woman who’d been occupying his thoughts all night now occupying the seat next to him. Up so close he could see her cheeks were dusted pink, though he couldn’t really tell if it was the chill from the night air or just some blush she’d painted on.

Either way. It didn’t really matter which one it was. All Shisui could really do with the information is filing it under “she’s the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever met” and keep the simple image of her tucking some pink hair behind her ear firmly in his mind’s eye for the rest of his days.

“Not a place I’d expect to find you either.” She blinked at his words as if confused, pursing her lips even, so despite how obvious it seemed to him Shisui clarified, “You more the frontline type, right?”

“Ah, yeah, I don’t really care for ‘supporting others’ to mean ‘being left behind.’ But today,” Sakura turned just enough to look over at her teammates, Shisui following her gaze to see Naruto gesturing wildly in horror at something that had Sasuke snickering unashamedly. “Today, I think I’m alright with not being in the middle of them. There are some conversations I’d rather they have without me.”

“What even has them going, anyway?”

“Relationships,” Sakura said, a little too quickly. But she didn’t let the awkwardness stay, her eyes flicking down to her tea which she held between her hands as if her fingers might be cold. Shisui wished he could warm them between his own. “Well, not exactly relationships. More like things people do in them. They seem to find it amusing to list all the people they’ve managed to kiss or make out with.”

With a snort, Shisui said, “I’m guessing they’re both at the top of each other’s lists then?”

He was very glad to see the tiny bit of tension relax right away from Sakura as she laughed, her eyes alight with mirth. “Somehow, they always seem to forget to mention that.”

“Bet you love to remind them.”

“Bet I do.” She flashed him a smile that had his ears heating up, and for the life of him Shisui could not say why it made him feel bold.

Despite how calm people saw him, despite his rather laid back nature, Shisui often found himself tongue tied where feelings were involved. But past his beating heart he somehow managed to not make a fool of himself, his nerves not overwhelming him - perhaps it was simply how welcomed he felt in her presence? How inviting and warm she was even as all she did was sip her tea, simply existing but existing there, next to him, when any number of seats were available next to those she was far closer to. And didn’t that make him feel lucky.

“Do you have a list?”

The gods only knew how he managed to make that sound casual. Even when Sakura’s eyes widened and blinked up at him (he swore his favorite color used to be blue but damn if that shade of green wasn’t going to change that) - and for a terrifying moment he remembered just how easily this woman could demolish any wall that stood in her way. With her fist.

Even if that wall was made with solid concrete, or was, say, a whole ass mountain. He was pretty sure he wasn’t anywhere near as solid as a mountain.

When she chose to not punch him, every single last bone in his body heaved a sigh of thankfully unbroken relief. “No, I...don’t have a list.”

No list? That was a little surprising. “A name, then?” Maybe not the best thing to ask someone, at least not before he was sure she would be comfortable with answering. Shisui was quick to add “Unless it’s a secret or something” - the last thing he needed was to drive her away by pushing into her own personal life.

Though, then again - and something in Shisui rose up in slight saddened panic at the thought - what would he do if she did have a name? A significant other? Itachi was out on another of his long missions, who exactly was he supposed to lean on and eat comfort chocolate with if it turned out his growing crush was, well...crushed, before anything could come of it?

“No. No name.”

It took physical effort to not sag with some sort of relief at her words, but it wasn’t a relief that Shisui had much time to process. Because as much as he wanted a chance with the woman of his dreams, as much as he had wanted to hear that...

“Eh? Really? You?” Shisui found it beyond the realms of possibility that Sakura, of all the people in Konoha, had yet to have her first kiss, and that shock was perhaps a bit too loud in his tone.

Definitely not good for his health and wellbeing. The nerve on Sakura’s forehead was suddenly twitching, and the sharp look she sent his way had him gulping.

“And what’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, no! No no, nothing- I didn’t mean like that!” He shook his head a little more than necessary, horror dawning on him as he realized his unintentional insinuation. “I just meant- you’re just, well, beautiful! Beautiful and an exceptional shinobi, a damn good medic, and from what Sasuke’s told me in confidence you make a mean blueberry tart. Not to mention you could punch through steel if it offended you.” By some grace of the gods he managed to bit off his rambling there, scratching nervously at the back of his head, almost mumbling as he ended his poor excuse of an explanation with, “I just expected, you know… You might have kissed at least one of the people who admired you.”

The moments of quiet after his words were probably the most terrifying seconds of his life, though by some mercy Sakura did not seem angry. Maybe his apology/explanation was acceptable after all and he wouldn’t have to-

Sakura said something under her breath, and Shisui blinked back out of his thoughts, frowning a little in confusion. “What?”

“It’s just that I…” Her bottom lip caught between her teeth for a moment, drawing Shisui’s eyes. “I’ve never really had an appealing offer. You know?”

Had she always been sitting that close to him? Their thighs were touching and Shisui couldn’t remember when that had happened, but his pulse picked up, the whole of him keenly aware of every inch of her.

And how bad would it be, really, to be buried in the ground by those deceptively slender fingers?

“Would I,” Shisui started, with a smooth tone that belied how his heart beat frantically in his chest, “qualify as an appealing offer?”

A breath. Two. Sakura’s gaze flickered down to his lips as hers parted the barest bit - and even before she nodded Shisui knew her answer - though he knew not how he'd been so lucky as to get a yes.

Her hair was soft under his fingers as he cupped the back of her head, her pupils wide as she tilted her chin to look up at him. Somewhere in the back of his mind he was aware that they were not alone, their friends and coworkers laughing and drinking and chattering away not even half a small restaurant away from them, but all of him preferred to focus on Sakura’s hand now coming to rest on his arm, the way she shifted forward as he leaned closer, how intimate it felt to brush their noses together, her breath tickling his lips.

And then their lips met, and the rest of the world fell away.

#shisaku #shisui #sakura #fanfiction #mywriting #commission #thank you!!#I'm sorry it took a while to write T^T #fluff #some humor #also on ao3 #link in the source!

101 notes · View notes

tarithenurse · 3 years

Text

Spark - 13

Fandom: Enn Enn no Shouboutai / Fire Force. Pairing: Shinmon Benimaru x fem!reader. Content: Awkwardness, sexual tension, nudity. Y’know ;) A/N: Feel free to ASK (or reblog) for tag – in fact: always reblog. Thanks to those who have already <3

13. Seared

... Reader ...

Your body is aching both from the sparring a few days ago as well as the tossing and turning from this night. Something has changed but it’s impossible to identify what – all you know is that people seem more nervous. Serious. More than once, you’ve walked in on Konro and Shinmon whispering and then stopping abruptly when noticing you...and you don’t know why. No one tells you what’s going on. It’s no wonder this night has been sleepless when you’re occupying your mind with worst case scenarios. Finally giving up on rest, you get up and head for the showers. Maybe it’ll help wash away the worries and if not it’ll at least loosen up the tense muscles.

... Benimaru ...

Mmmmrrr...too early...Benimaru slings a towel over the bare shoulder and rubs the sleep out of his eyes. Wanna sleeeep. But he can’t today. Today he has to get up early to get the new watch plan working: no one is going to enter Asakusa without either him or Konro knowing.

Still half asleep, he stumbles to the nearest showers, confident that he’s the only one who’s up at the crack of dawn.

Warm, humid air engulfs him when he open the door, and it takes a moment longer before realization hits that someone else is in fact awake. Only a single lantern is lit to light the room. Standing on a bench next to a pile of mix-match clothes it illuminates the vapour in the air and casts a warm glow on [Y/N] standing under the running water. Drops sparkle like stars on the wet skin as they gather to form a waterfall along the spine, down between the buttocks, and finally splash between the feet – feet that are much daintier than the guys’ stinky ones after a day inside the heavy boots.

Benimaru is awake. Very awake, although the situation seems surreal enough to be a dream. I shouldn’t be here. He manages to suppress a confused groan. I shouldn’t watch...I should leave. Backing out the way he arrived, the captain struggles to think of a way he can forget what he saw or apologize for walking in on her – mainly because he’s got a nagging feeling that she’ll tear his head off if or when she finds out...but also because...because...

Damnit. Back in his own room already, he grumbles at himself for not going all the way to the men’s showers. How could I know? No one’s awake at this time normally?! It’s not the first time, the women’s shower has been put to use by either Benimaru or any of the other guys...but of course things has changed now there actually is a woman around (the twins don’t count and they’re normally noisy during bath time anyways).

Still, the curves and slopes of [Y/N]’s body in the shower is burned into his mind’s eye. Calloused fingers tug at his strands of black hair. Perhaps it’s an attempt to get the brain working, perhaps it’s instead of tugging at something else because Benimaru is becoming aware of a steadily growing issue. Nonono, not like this! Not...not her.

She’s smart, or rather streetwise, and has a tenacity and fearlessness rivalling that of the best of his men who (by the way) all have been charmed by her almost since day one. And she’s infuriating, stubborn, kind, gorgeous and...Benimaru falters, painfully aware of the row of complimenting adjectives he would use about the woman.

“And I promised to protect her,” he sighs. Not fall for her.

... Reader ...

“Konro,” you mutter nervously to the guy, “what’s going on?”

You can sense his chuckle more than actually hear it over the hubbub of the street where vendors are busy trying to keep up with their customers’ demands. “Haven’t you been listening? They’ll help keep you safe.”

Glancing back at the district’s oldest citizen, you can’t help but wonder what the ancient woman can do to ensure no one will come for you.

“That’s...nice.”

She’s the fourth person to conspiratorially whisper to you, transforming a simple shopping trip into a test of paranoia versus cold reasoning. And yes, you have been listening. You listened already the first time Benimaru announced you were going to enjoy the protection of Company Seven’s base whether you liked it or not...you just hadn’t believed him and, oh boy, had that taught you a lesson! Whenever he appears behind you, there’s a brief tension at the base of your skull.

“Why, though? They don’t know me.”

Konro glances over before returning his attention to the oranges. “Because Beni’s told them to.”

Pfft. “They do everything he says?”

“I rarely tell them to do anything,” a drawl comes from behind you, “but now you mention it...you’re the first one to ignore me and look what that brought you.”

A fucking headache. Twice. “So you’re saying you’re not always a pain?”

You haven’t turned, preferring to help Konro on the hunt for ripe fruits instead, but you know he’s rolling his eyes under the tussled hair. I should probably be nicer to him. After all, he’s the reason you’ve not in a lab somewhere, locked up until there’s nothing left to use.

“[Y/N]...” Shinmon sighs with a note of defeat.

“Benimaru,” you reiterate, finally turning and almost bumping into him due to the unexpected proximity, “I get that you’ve g-”

“We need to talk.”

The severity in his tone silences you. I’m in trouble? It wouldn’t exactly surprise you. Stumped by the captain’s intensity, you don’t even object as he grabs you by the hand and leads you back to Company Seven’s station.

The air is cold against your skin as he lets go, snatching his hand back as if he’d barely been able to stand touching you this long – not unlike how you should be feeling yourself. Your hand hovers momentarily where he’s left it in midair as you gather your wits enough to kick off the shoes (no longer stolen, but payed for with both money and an apology for your actions).

Even if Benimaru has let go of you, you still follow quietly into the kitchen. Leaning against the counter, you fold your arms to keep your hands from reaching out until you know for certain that you’re completely in control once more.

114 notes · View notes

raith-way · 3 years

Text

I clearly did something right in a past life to get spoiled like this, because the lovely @asirensrage made this beautiful GIF for me and it’s so perfect. I heard their conversation as soon as I saw the GIF, so it had to be written. (Thank you, Siren, for all of the amazing GIFs and the support. Thank you!!)

Fandom: Marvel

Fic: Traversing The Multiverse

Scene: Twenty Questions

“Darcy has taught me a new Midgardian tradition,” Thor announced as he walked into the common room. Kenzie, who had been contemplating the oddities of her new life, looked up from the doodling pad to watch Thor walk farther into the room. He chose to sit on the couch across from the chair that she was in, and she felt some slight apprehension as she placed her pad on the table next to her. The last Midgardian tradition that Darcy had decided to teach was the ol’ back-pat of celebration. Except, Darcy had clearly demonstrated that the pat should be quite low to show proper revelry in victory. Then again, seeing Thor in his full Asgardian gear slapping Hulk on the ass had been hilarious. It was too bad no one had caught it on camera.

“Which tradition would that be?” she asked. While she wouldn’t volunteer the information, Kenzie did enjoy Thor’s presence. He made training together fun, and his stories were always captivating.

“The tradition of twenty questions. You see, first, I will ask you a question that you must answer truthfully. Then you may ask me a question that I must answer truthfully.” That wasn’t how Twenty Questions worked at all, but Darcy was the one in charge of Thor’s Midgardian acclimation. Besides, there was no harm in talking to Thor. Be nice if someone else was around though, just in case she needed a quick out. What was she saying? She survived the destruction of her universe. She could survive a few questions from someone that she thought of as a friend.

“Twenty questions, so ten questions each?” she clarified. Thor’s head tipped to the side as he thought, he straightened as he came to a decision, and then he nodded in acceptance. “Alright. You go first, big guy.”

“What is your favorite comfort food?” he asked first. It wasn’t what she was expecting. Her confusion must have shown, damn her overly expressive face, because he explained for her. “Darcy said it is best to start with simple and easy questions.”

“Darcy was right. My comfort food is pizza,” she answered honestly. The pizza in her universe had been great, but the pizza in this universe was phenomenal. So greasy and cheesy.

“You eat a lot of pizza.” Clearly, Thor observed more than they realized because she knew what his pointed look was saying. She did eat a lot of pizza, because most days she needed a little bit of comfort. Still, they weren’t talking about that.

“It’s my turn to ask a question, and I want to know why you won’t let me cut your hair,” she said and smiled. Tonight, his hair was mostly pulled back into a low bun with some golden locks framing his face. Either he just naturally looked that good, or Darcy had helped him out. Both were a definite possibility.

“I have kept my hair long since boyhood. To change it now.” Thor stopped there and looked to the side, and she remembered the Thor from her universe when his hair had been forcibly cut. It’d been a comedic moment, but maybe there really was a deeper reason. Maybe he didn’t want to lose that last connection to his childhood, when things were simple. That was something she could understand. Clearly he’d been thinking while she had because he continued, “To change it now would be to change the last familiar thing of me.”

“Change doesn’t always have to be a bad thing,” she said like a total hypocrite. She’d spent so much time hating change, and that was before her universe went kaput.

“It is my turn to ask a question now,” Thor reminded her. She bowed her head, and the questions continued.

She talked about the bookstore she had owned, how her favorite part of owning the store had been being surrounded by the smell of books. He told her about growing up with Loki, small pranks that young boys would play on each other. Kenzie’s childhood pet dog, Romeo. Thor’s childhood pet, possibly miniature dragon, Gorm. The time she fell out of a tree and broke her arm. The time he slipped off a cliff and spent weeks waiting for the skin on his back to regrow. Her favorite time of day was sunrise, seeing the dawn of a new day. His favorite pastime was looking up at the stars, seeing galaxies that she couldn’t even imagine. She took gymnastics as a kid. He learned alien languages in school. When she was a little girl, she wanted to be a firefighter because she liked the color of the trucks. When he was a little boy, he wanted to be a Valkyrie because they were the best warriors. If she could have any other superpower, she’d be telekinetic so she could just float things to her instead of getting up. If he could have another superpower, it’d be the ability to talk to all animals. The thing she missed the most from her home universe was her routine, always knowing what needed to be done and where she belonged. The things he missed most from Asgard were his family and close friends, the people that he loved.

“Last question. Hit me,” she said and spread her arms wide.

“Are you truly disappointed that I am not who you expected?” Well, he definitely hit her with that one. He thankfully had the grace and tact to look away as she composed herself, because she had said something to that effect not long after meeting him and did regret the hasty words now. She’d been in shock! Her universe had died, she’d witnessed several universes dying, and she’d been expecting to see Alexander Skarsgard holding Mjolnir. The Chris Hemsworth look alike had been a shock.

“You’re definitely not Skarsgard,” she heard herself say. Her hand was even moving to emphasize her point, and Thor made a fair-enough expression as he took the words in stride. She thought, just maybe, that she could see a little bit of hurt in his eyes. “Don’t tell Mac I said this, because she’d never let me hear the end of it, but you are the best Thor.”

His sudden smile was too bright, too happy, that it made something in her chest flutter and then squeeze tight. Was that her heart? Possibly her lungs as she stopped breathing? Because backlit by the dark city, in his nice maroon jacket and casually messy hair, Thor looked like any other guy while still looking exactly like a god. Not some god on a throne either. An earthly god, that walked amongst mortals and could be touched. Like if she wanted, if he wanted, she could walk over to him and press her fingers against his lips to feel his smile against her skin. All that just because she said a few words? (A few honest words too. Sorry, Skarsgard, but Hemsworth really is Thor.) Kenzie pulled in a breath, laughed off her nerves, and leaned back in her chair to fight off the urge to get out of it.

“The last question is yours,” he said quietly. She suddenly had several questions that she wanted to ask him, but she didn’t think either of them were ready for them to be asked or answered.

“Kenz! I brought back pizza! Better hurry before Steve’s big mouth eats it all!” Mac’s loud voice cut through the common room, and Kenzie startled upwards in her chair. She looked over her shoulder, and she could hear Mac and Steve playfully arguing while Jamie and Bucky egged them on, and she turned back around to look at Thor.

“Would you like to go eat some pizza with me?” she decided to ask. Thor’s answering smile was just as bright as a minute ago, and her chest did that strange fluttery-squeezing thing again. That was probably something she should figure out soon.

“It would be my honor.” When Thor stood up and extended a hand towards her, Kenzie mentally shrugged and slipped her hand into his. She’d do some deep self-analyzing after eating pizza.

Forever Taglist: @jinxsflame @hughstheforcelou @uno-reverse-reversed @hiddenqveendom @asirensrage @ocfairygodmother @jewelswrites-ish @reggiemantleholdmyhand-tle

#asirensrage #oc: kenzie rowe #ch: thor #fic: traversing the multiverse #marvel #they’re such a cute pairing #and this gif is so perfect #i will be thanking you for the next hundred years or so

11 notes · View notes

queenofthefallenangels · 4 years

Text

Darlin

Walking Dead Fandom

Negan x OC

Rated M

Warnings: Smut, blood, violence

Summary: Willa and her boyfriend Derrick are having a fight at the bar that turns a bit physical. What happens when Negan steps in stop put a stop to it?

My arms were shaking as I marched out of the bar that night. I couldn’t believe how Derrick was treating me again. What he would let his stupid buddies say about me. He even had the nerve to say that I was in the wrong for sticking up for myself. I shook my head. I was done with this whole thing.

“Let go of me,” I yelled when I felt his hand around my wrist. I tried to break free, but he yanked me hard.

“Stop, you are embarrassing me right now.” He said his grip harder on my wrist. “You are acting like a child.”

“Why? Because I was standing up for myself. Someone should have since you didn’t defend me to your little police buddies.” I said still struggling against his hold. “If I am such a child then let me go home.”

“You have no ride home. Stop acting like a child and come back inside.” He yanked me harder back.

“I am perfectly fine, Derrick,” I said, only pulling back. His grip got tighter. I could feel a pain shooting up my arm as he grabbed onto me. “Stop, you are hurting me.” I pleaded now.

“I tell you what to do and you listen. Get back in the bar now, before I-”

“Officer,” a husky voice came from the other end of the parking lot. We both looked up towards the voice. In both our anger, we hadn’t noticed the bikers standing there. They had seen the whole thing go down. The one who spoke was tall and lean, his black leather jacket hugging his muscles on his arm as he leaned against his motorcycle. His black hair was slicked back. I could faintly see his facial hair growing back in the dim light. A cigarette hanging from his lips. He took it out blowing smoke before he spoke again. “I can’t help, but notice that she told you to stop and that you are hurting her. Now, I am not one to know the law, but I am pretty sure when a lady says stop, you stop. Least that’s how I was taught by my mother to treat a lady. She would come back from the grave if she saw me doing what you were doing. I suggest you let her go.”

“Or what?” He asked the man. The man playfully raised an eyebrow. “You must be a rookie, because most of your buddies know I ain’t afraid to hit a cop, especially one who is hurting a lady.”

“I can arrest you for hurting an officer of the law,” Derrick said sternly.

The man chuckled pushing off the motorcycle. He looked at the man on the motorcycle next to him, “This guy is something else.” He said to the long haired one next to him. “Look at all the witnesses I have on my side. All they got to say, is that I was trying to help out this poor girl that you were manhandling. Plus, I got Sheriff Rick on my side. I will be out before dawn breaks.” He smiled wide as he threw his cigarette to the side. He closed the distance between us, gently touching my arm. My heart skipped beats when I felt his rough calloused hand against my arm. “Would you looky here, Daryl. She’s already got some nice bruises already forming. Help my case out greater.” He turned to my boyfriend, his eyes narrowing. His smile disappeared, “So, I suggest you do as she asked and go back inside.”

“How is she supposed to get home? I am her ride.” He growled at the man.

“I am sure I have another helmet somewhere. I will make sure she gets home fine.” He winked.

“How do I know we can trust you aren’t going to hurt her?”

“Oh pretty boy, trust me, I don’t hurt women as you do.”

He growled one last time before turning to get back to the bar but quickly turned around punching the man in the face. The man grabbed his face, “Everyone saw that right?” He said looking at the men behind them. They all nodded. “Well, then this is only fair.” The man sent a punch into his face sending him backward. He grabbed his nose as blood started to gush out.

“You motherfucker,” He said, reaching for his gun that was in his pocket. He knew he wasn’t supposed to have it on him if he was off duty, but he never listened to the rules. The man chuckled darkly, “Oh, someone brought the big guns out. I thought I felt bad for you before Darlin with how he was acting. Now, he has to bring a gun instead of fighting me like a man. You must have a super small dick, boy.”

“Shut up, or I will shoot you,” Derrick yelled. He was still on the ground holding up the gun.

The man tsked. “I highly doubt that. For one, everyone saw you hit me first. Secondly, I think you have enough alcohol in your blood to have your pretty little badge removed. Now, I am going to repeat myself one more time, because I am a nice man. Get inside and my buddies and I won’t you down and break every bone in your body. Got it?”

Derrick nodded as he walked into the bar. I could hear him cursing under his breath about something.

The man turned to me, “Negan.” He said, holding out his hand.

I took it, my heart still racing from everything that happened. “Willa.”

“Beautiful name for a beautiful girl. Now, darlin, how about I get you home?”

I nodded as I let him lead me to his bike. I had never ridden on a motorcycle before. This was going to be the first time. I was starting to wish that I had drank more when I was in the bar. It would make it easier to calm my nerves. I was going home with a guy I didn’t know and on a machine that I had never rode on before. Yeah, I needed way more drinks than this. My hands were shaking as I followed him. He looked back at me. His hazel eyes are studying me. “You okay, doll?” He asked.

“I just never rode one before. I don’t think I am drunk enough for this.”

He smiled at me. The smile spread to his eyes. His smile had to be one of the most gorgeous things I had ever seen before. It had my heart doing backflips. “Well, you don’t have to worry about me. Just make sure to hold on extra tight, darlin. I will make sure you are safe.” He winked at me, causing butterflies to explode inside my stomach.

My hand was shaking as I got onto the back of his motorcycle. I did as he said and wrapped my arms tightly around his waist. He started the bike up and drove down the road. I gave him directions to my house. He nodded and headed that way for me. I swore that he was trying to get me to hold tighter with the sharp turns that he took.

Once he got to my house, I expected him to just drop me off. He had other things in mind. “What kind of gentlemen would I be if I didn’t walk you to your door?”

“A normal one.” I giggled as I slipped off his bike.

He rolled his eyes, “You need to get around better men like me. Not like that pussy back at the bar.”

“I meant, you just gave me a ride. It’s not like its date or anything.” I said looking at my feet as I walked up to the front porch.

He stopped me and turned me towards him. He hooked one of his long fingers underneath my chin, lifting my chin up to look him in the eyes. I bit my bottom lip, thinking he was going to kiss me. He was inches away from my face. I could feel his hot breath against my cheeks. “If I didn’t know any better, I would be thinking you want me to ask you on a date.”

I blushed, moving my face. “You would never.”

“No wonder you got with such an ass. I was wondering the whole time how he got such a beautiful girl. You don’t know your worth.” He said.

“You are just saying that,” I told him. We reached my porch and I turned back to him. “Is there anything I can get you for this? I don’t have much, but there has to be a way to reward you.”

He shook his head. “You owe me nothing, darlin. Just get better taste in men.”

“You know it seems kind of backward that you saved me from a cop. My parents loved it when they said I was dating a cop.”

“See, this is why sometimes it’s good to rebel.” He winked at me.

“Would you still like to come in and wash up your hands at least? I can see the blood drying on your knuckles. Please, I have brownies.”

“If I didn’t know any better I would think you are trying to get me to say.” He chuckled. “Alright, I will come in.” He said holding his hands up in defense. “Mainly for the brownies though.” He said with another flash of his award-winning smile.

I let him inside my house and turned on the light. “The bathroom is down the hall.” I told him as I pointed. “You can wash your hands and I will get you a brownie and some milk.”

He nodded his head, “Thank you, darlin.” He said before he headed for the bathroom to wash off his hands. I took a small plate out of the cabinet and grabbed a brownie for him before pouring him a glass of milk, placing it on my kitchen table.

He came in shortly later. “Thanks, doll.” He said as he kissed my cheek. The problem was when he leaned in to kiss my cheek, my head turned at the exact same time. Our lips touched and I felt something I had only read about in books. Sparks flew from our lips the moment they touched. I kissed back though I knew it had to be a mistake. It was more of a reaction to the kiss. Not to say that I didn’t like it.

I thought he would have pulled away as soon as he realized it, but he didn’t. He pulled me closer to him and pushed me against the wall. He deepened the kiss as he became hungry for more. I was surprised at first by him, but I relaxed, wrapping my arms around his neck.

After a long while of an intense make out, Negan pulled away. “You know you don’t owe me this. I can get the brownie and go If that’s what you want.” I shook my head. “No, I want this,” I said pulling his lips back on mine. It was true. I wanted it. Derrick had been the only man I had ever been with. I already felt on top of the world. My core was hot with need. I needed more of him. I craved more of him in a way I never craved a man before.

He hooked his arms underneath my knees as he wrapped my legs around his waist. He pulled away from the kiss. “You are going to have to tell me where your bedroom is then.” He stated.

I nodded gasping for air from the heated kiss we just shared. “Yeah, it’s just up the stairs. I can walk.” “Nonsense.” He said as he carried me up the stairs. He kicked open the door that I pointed to and laid me down in the bed. His body between my legs. My eyes widened when I saw him get down on his knees pulling me closer to the edge of the bed. He saw my eyes and stopped. “What’s wrong?” I shook my head. A smirk appeared on his face causing his dimples to sink in. “He never ate you out did he?” He asked.

I shook my head again. “He didn’t like it.”

“Well, that boy doesn’t know what he is missing, princess, because you look delicious. I can see it through your panties.” He said as he pulled my skirt up to my hips. He hooked his finger into my panties and pulled them off with one quick swipe down. I bit my lip as I watched him. “Look, how pretty this pink little pussy is for me,” Negan whispered. He gave my outer lips a small kiss before he started to lick them. He soon dove his tongue between my folds as he lapped up the wetness. His rough fingers scrapped up the sides of my leg. He slipped a finger into me and groaned softly. “Fuck,” he said. He moved another finger inside and started to move them. He pressed gently against my button causing me to feel new waves of pleasure that I couldn’t explain. I moaned loudly as I moved my hips against his fingers and face.

All of a sudden, the sensation was gone. I opened my eyes to see he had pulled out. Negan was talking off his leather jacket revealing his white v neck. He pulled down his cargo pants, releasing his thick shaft. It was hard as it stood. He took off his shirt and laid back down on the bed. “I want you to lay on top of me.”

“Won’t that hurt you?” I asked kind of nervous.

He shook his head. “No. Just lay with your legs between my head.” I did as he said. Without instruction, I took his dick between my lips, tasting his precum. I moaned against him as I began to bob up and down. He let out a soft groan before he stuffed two fingers back inside me. He wrapped his lips against my clit. Negan sucked and pulled on my clit. I screamed against his cock. It wasn’t long before I came all over his face and fingers. He didn’t stop though. His motions never slowed. My body was so sensitive from the last time, I knew I wouldn’t be able to hold it back long. I wanted to give him some pleasure too. I pushed him all the way down my throat, gagging slightly.

He released my clit, “Oh Fuck,” he said bucking his hips into my face. “That felt so fucking good princess. I am so fucking close. Are you going to swallow daddy’s cum like a good girl?”

This dirty talk was all new to me. I had never called a guy besides my actual dad, daddy before. But calling him that felt so hot, I couldn’t resist it. “Yes, daddy,” I said before taking him down my throat a couple more times. It wasn’t long until I felt him throbbing inside my mouth as his seed released. “Oh, fuck princess.” He said as he played with my hair. He was trying to catch his breath. “So about that date?” He said.

I giggled as I moved to face him straddling his chest. “What about it?”

“If this is how it ends, I would love to take you out on it.”

I blushed, “I would love that. Now, let’s go eat that brownie.”

#negans thirst squad #negan smut #negan x oc #negan #jeffery dean morgan #jeffery dean morgan smut

104 notes · View notes

aconstellationofmemories · 4 years

Text

Of Nightmares and Promises Chapter 2: Gray

Note: This oneshot in Gray's POV, a follow-up to Juvia's oneshot, unexpectedly took me 7 months to complete. More than half of the draft had already been written; I could have posted it earlier with some addition; but I felt that it lacked something. Or perhaps I was afraid, since I was still a new writer back then. In any case, I'm satisfied that my writing has improved tremendously since.

Dedicated to @allie-and-her-fandoms, who was a major source of motivation to write this continuation. Here's a surprise for you girl. I hope I didn't disappoint you.

Next one in this collection of oneshots will probably be Laxus'. Expect some angsty Miraxus coming up!

Word count: 1.5k.

Read this on AO3.

Chapter 1: Juvia

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

Quiet sobs.

The steady beat of the rain tumbling onto the pavement.

Soft whimpers.

The sorrowful symphony slowly filtered into Gray’s sleep-fogged brain and roused him from his slumber. What’s happening? Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, his puzzled gaze instantly landed on the sparkling droplets of water on the window. They slid down helplessly despite the slight friction between their liquid body and the glass panel, leaving behind only disjointed parts of their body in their slippery descent.

It’s raining, he thought sleepily. There was a nagging familiarity about the natural event, almost as though it was teasing him to guess its hidden meaning. However, at such a godforsaken hour, he had neither the mood nor the mental capacity for such trivia games. If the heavens wished to weep and cause a phenomenon known as rainfall upon earth, then they could weep all they wanted. He wasn’t going to give up his precious sleep to spend the night contemplating the mysteries of the universe. Closing his eyes, he turned to lay on his side as he tried to resume his disrupted sleep.

Then it dawned on him.

It was soft, almost inaudible even, but he was almost certain his ears weren’t playing with him – there was a muffled sound of someone crying.

Wait. Rain...

Juvia.

The realisation jolted him awake – any trace of sleepiness now completely gone – and he hurriedly glanced over to the other side of the bed. In a subconscious gesture to either comfort or protect herself, the water mage lied curled on her side in a fetal position. Her face twisted in anguish. “Gray-sama...” his name fell upon her lips in between her strained sobs.

He gently nudged her. “Oi, Juvia.” No use – she showed no signs of waking.

“Juvia tried but she failed,” she whispered, pain lacing each word.

His heart constricted in his chest to see her in this broken state. She was the one experiencing the nightmare, but it hurt him to witness it.

“Wake up and it’ll be fine,” he urged her.

“Juvia is so sorry...”

What was she dreaming to feel sorry for?

Gray pushed aside the stray locks from her forehead – her skin was wet. It was that moment that he noticed she was sweating profusely. Whatever she was dreaming about, it must be intense to invoke such strong reactions from her. Tears silently rolled down her porcelain cheeks. Despite his attempts to pull her from her nightmare, she was lost to him in a torturous realm – one he was all too familiar with.

“Wake up, Juvia,” he pleaded her. It was killing him slowly to see her tormented and being powerless to do a thing.

The ice mage prided himself in having a cold, impenetrable heart. Much like his ice creations, it was solid and incredibly resistant to outside influences. Her cries, however, felt as though someone placed a nail on his heart and pounded mercilessly to create fractures. With each broken call for him, the fractures cracked open.

Just like how Juvia once told him that he kept the rain away, he yearned to prevent her liquid sadness from flowing down her face – now and for as long as he can.

Before he knew what he was doing, he leaned in and placed his lips on her tear-stained cheeks.

Drip.

A tear escaped from the corner of her eye and trailed down.

“Gray-sama.”

Kiss.

His lips caught the elusive tear before it could drop.

“Shh. It’s okay.”

Drip.

No matter how many times she fell apart, he would always be there to catch her.

Kiss.

Down to the last teardrop, he erased their existence with each gentle kiss.

Pulling back, his concerned gaze scanned her face for any signs of distress. To his relief, her features seemed to relax. The iron vise around his heart loosened its grip. His chest immediately felt lighter.

For the first time since he woke up, he could take a breath without feeling strangled.

Lying back down on the bed, he angled his head to watch her. The warm glow of the streetlamps cast a soft spotlight upon her, highlighting her angelic features. Her sapphire tresses was splayed out on the pillow underneath her head. They reminded him of a curved wave frozen in time. He gently pushed back the stray locks on her forehead. She was ethereally beautiful. His heart squeezed in his chest as he took in the sleeping beauty before him. As someone who only experienced heartache all his life, the ice mage didn’t think he was worthy of someone so beautiful and pure.

All I do is scar her.

His gaze dipped down to her abdomen – to where she sacrificed her life for him. The evidence of her suicide was well covered by her nightgown, but he could picture it all too clearly in his mind. Jagged lines winded up and down to narrow peaks, its almost-circular trek engraved forever on the right side of her navel.

Gray wasn’t ashamed by scars, nor did he feel the slightest disgust towards them. His own body exhibited the permanent mark of several scars from years of battling as a mage. None of them bothered him; whether they were large or small; wide or narrow; he only demanded that they were visible to the world.

But Juvia...it didn’t sit right with him for her to have them. Not that he thought they marred her beauty – hell, she was pretty no matter what. It was the history behind the engraved remnants of her sacrifice which troubled him.

If only I was stronger then...Juvia wouldn’t have had to kill herself.

It was my duty to protect her, to keep her safe.

He clenched his fist as an avalanche of failure crashed over him.

And I failed in both for Juvia.

For his entire life, all the people dearest to him had been snatched away. It didn’t matter how strong they were; one by one, they ceased to exist on the physical plane on earth. Though the abrupt conclusion to their story played out in different scenarios, they all shared a crucial common factor – their untimely deaths were all because of him.

Involuntarily, the final memories of his loved ones came flooding back – the disbelief, the immense despair, and the hopelessness – they all hit him like a train wreck.

His father, previously the strongest man in his eyes, now lying immobile in the destruction left by Deliora.

Ur’s motherly smile when she bid farewell to him as ice engulfed her mortal body.

Her daughter, Ultear, trading her priceless youth for him to be granted a second chance at life.

Juvia’s lifeless body, cold and unmoving in his arms.

The tsunami of his painful past threatened to wreck him and drown him under in their onslaught. His tensed muscles began to tremble from the effort of controlling the turbulent emotions which the flashbacks had evoked.

You killed them, a voice hissed inside his head.

He squeezed his eyes shut in an attempt to block them out – the memories, the self-defeating voices, the fears – all of them. I’m not there. I’m not there anymore.

When he opened his eyes, his gaze landed on the soundly asleep form of Juvia. Her lips were slightly parted as she breathed in and out slowly. The nightmares had stopped tormenting her. Seeing her resting peacefully – and breathing – calmed his frayed nerves considerably. His ragged breaths began to slow.

She’s still alive. Here, with me.

The ice mage carefully wrapped his arms around her as he pulled her in close for an embrace. Instantly, she instinctively leaned into his warmth and pressed her face into his naked chest. With that simple trusting gesture, her own warmth spread deeper into his chest to envelope his heart.

For hours, he was content to simply hold her in his arms as she slept. She even snored lightly at one point; this he would never tell her. He couldn’t complain, not when the greatest thing to had ever happened to him was lying in his bed.

He didn’t sleep a wink that night.

Not from her snores, but from the thoughts that raced through his mind and the plans he dared to envision – all of which involved a particular sapphire-haired woman. His dreams splashed every inch of his greyscale mental landscape with bright, invigorating colours of spring. Like the plants which grow from the emergence of the sun after the rain, the seeds of his wishes quickly sprouted to form endless possibilities together with her.

In the near future, they wouldn’t just be mere visions his mind conjured up. No – he would make them materialise into the real world.

When dawn arrived with its hopeful transformation from darkness to light, the ice mage was set with his conviction.

I don’t deserve you, but I will become a man worthy of you, Juvia.

Placing a chaste kiss on her forehead, he sealed his unspoken promise to her.

I’ll keep you safe.

#gruvia #gray fullbuster x juvia lockser #gray fullbuster #juvia lockser #fairy tail #gruvia fanfic #angst and comfort #my fanfic #took me longer than expected #7 months!!#but happy that my writing has improved a lot #even though this may not be my best work

155 notes · View notes

snow--blanket · 4 years

Text

paper cranes

word count: 4709

fandom: ikemen sengoku

characters: akechi mitsuhide ***

A touch. A touch was all it took to pull the rug under his feet, and the next thing he knew; Akechi Mitsuhide ceased to be. The walls of the temple stretched itself like the growing shoots of a tree—bending, intertwining around him as if he was the sun.

The walls have ears, Mitsuhide thought. The walls were witness to the arrogance that he was forced to discard, the shame at being proven wrong; the way he hailed himself above the rest for not believing in gods and curses. Although the way it regained sentient was unnatural, Mitsuhide thought that the manner he was swallowed into the old, disserviced inches of bamboo was not unlike a mother’s touch—it was as if someone had welcomed him home.

The mere thought was preposterous. He never had such a thing. Plus, to be welcomed home was to connote that he’d have one in the first place.

The winds of season treated him differently now. In spring, the world was a painting. Children wreathed poppies into flower crowns and the kimonos they wore had the buddings of childishness—streaks of colour fingered across a blank canvas. In summer, the wheat that bent golden turned to ash and the veins of rivers dried up like an old well. In autumn, it was the time of passing; where the sun coloured the leaves red and orange, eternal dawn and dusk. Winter put everyone to slumber, and Mitsuhide noticed that the number of people who had come praying to him had increased.

Inari, they called him by the name they gifted. Bless our harvest and I will pray to you for a hundred years. The venomous, seductive lie was one he knew too well, and it was like staring into the mirror.

He noticed that the nobles and lords had no need for gods. After all, why would they rely on prayers when they could afford more medicine, more logs for the hearth when the cursed storm walks among the lands that tore roofs off houses and stole children from their parents?

The old and sickly swore by his name in hoarse voices; although Mitsuhide could not see what they looked like, they would always wear their voice to ruination, throat swallowing sand. it was the mark of the desperate, Mitsuhide knew. He’d heard it many times before, saw the way their eyes looked at him like he was a lantern guiding the path—taking his extended hand as he fell with them to vice.

Mitsuhide was the kind of person who liked to know what was happening, so he often sent his fox messengers into the village, their white fur pale like full moons. Eventually, though, some children follow the foxes back to the temple, and they talk about him, Inari, and how a god became so useless and unliked, and they speak of the curse that had befallen arrogant men.

Mitsuhide pays no heed to their words, instead tucking the information in the back of his mind, where he would revisit them later.

One day, when his messenger has not returned to him, he hears a thin voice cut the silence he’s cocooned in the walls he is trapped in. “Hello?” The voice asks. “Is anyone there?” The question sits in front of him like an opportunity, and he opens his mouth to answer.

“There is.” He could not see the expression on her face, but he is entirely positive she is looking troubled. He feels his smile widen. “What brings you here, little one?”

“I—” The girl fumbles with her voice, as if stumbling with the truth in her hands in an attempt of honesty. She is folding her voice like paper cranes, a sincere appeal. “Your fox was hurt. I only came here to return it to its home.”

Mitsuhide raises an eyebrow. “That is all?”

“Yes,” she pauses, and he imagines her nodding. “That is all.” He hears her feet shuffle towards him, hears the pitiful whines of his messenger in her arms before gently being descended onto the old wooden floors. She takes a few steps back, clears her throat. “Goodbye.” Before he could answer, she has already left, the telltale signs of hastiness kicking up the dust she trailed behind.

His messenger limps to him, whimpering. Mitsuhide can not offer a comforting hand, so he simply says: “Excellent job.” To those who had not known him, the words rang in a condescending manner—however, the fox simply sighs out a content yowl, happy to have been of use.

The next day, a man visits the temple and his head is touching the ground. Mitsuhide can barely hear his voice, what with the distance between them. “Please extend your mercy, Inari-sama!” Now that Mitsuhide is a god, he cannot read people as well as he used to. Did this man look heartbroken? Did desperation carve itself into his aging lines? It was easy to lie when you did not have to face the guilt of bearing it. “Bless my journey out of this wretched village!”

“Oh?” Here was a man of corrupt faith—using prayers as a scapegoat for pure reason, taking actions in the name of righteousness and calling it justice. Mitsuhide hates such a person. Dishonesty with people was one thing; dishonesty with oneself was another. Mitsuhide has long ago accepted that he would never be received with warmth, and here was a man who thought himself deserving of blessings. If he still had a body, he wasn’t sure if he would be able to stop himself from shattering this man’s flimsily built world. “I refuse.” Mitsuhide has never felt the need to raise his voice. He was a man of few words and confusing actions, but no one could deny that when he spoke, everyone listened. It was akin to seeing ghosts amongst trees. You simply couldn’t help but stare. “Disappear from my sight.”

He hears a silent ‘tsk’ from the man before he removes himself off the ground and walks away as if there was a stone tying his shoulders down. “Have you a wish, little one?”

Perhaps the girl has forgotten she was in the presence of a god. She stammers and stutters, and Mitsuhide’s smile comes easy. “Why did you refuse him?”

“Why should I accept?”

There is a brief pause, before she shoots back: “Why shouldn’t you?” The words surprised him. Never in a hundred or so years had a human spoke back to him. It was as if she noticed the same thing, and so she mumbled an apology.

Mitsuhide lets out a light laugh. How fun was she to toy with. “Because, little one, he is a liar.”

He felt her stare as much as he heard it. “What do you mean?”

If Mitsuhide had a body, he would wave his hand dismissively. “‘Bless my journey’? What carefully chosen words.” His little fox messenger sidles itself against the girl’s legs, a happy trill sounding. “That man stole funds from an orphanage and was planning to escape the village with his ill-gotten gains. Dare I say, someone like that needs not blessings, but a curse. No?”

Mitsuhide makes a mental note to thank the girl for this information. Had she not returned his fox messenger to him, he wouldn’t have known. Sometimes, he hated his formless body.

There was silence in between them, the god and the naive human. Mitsuhide stifles a sigh. She could not possibly have understood his reasoning, and he is fine with that. His decisions didn’t stem from what others thought of him, after all.

“Why?” she finally asks.

“Why what?”

The girl steps towards him, and he hears the clip-clop sounds of her sandals as she discards them, sitting down near him uninvited. “The villagers said you don’t care about us.”

Mitsuhide smiles again. “It is easy to assume so when one does not help others in need of them.” Humans are selfish and narrow-minded creatures, after all. From his observation, humans have had to overcome two things: the mentality of me versus everyone, and us versus them. If someone did not help you, you were instantly categorised as the latter part, and consequently treated in hostile manners. Even after living for hundreds of years, this did not change. It was disappointing, but Mitsuhide did not mind being misunderstood.

“Yeah, but—” her voice is hesitant. “You do care. You didn’t want the man to get away with his crimes, didn’t you?”

Mitsuhide cocks a brow. “A bold assumption. What makes you think I care about what does and does not happen to that man?”

“You didn't help him.”

“I do not help wounded animals, either. It is simply apathy.”

“That's different!”

“How so?”

“You—” she gathers her composure. “You can’t help them. That’s why. It doesn’t mean that you don’t want to.”

Ah, again, Mitsuhide wanted to laugh. Humans were so intriguing. He met one man that tried to use him and here was one that wanted nothing more than to believe him kind. What darling creatures they were. “Intentions do not breed kindness, little one. Only actions.”

He cannot see what she looked like, but he imagines her pouting. “I'm not a child!”

“Of course not, my dear.” he smiles, and he almost wished she could see how truthful he was. “It is normal to judge things based on the criteria that we are most used to. You’re not a child, but you do have the innocence and the heart of one. It is not necessarily a bad thing. It is refreshing, almost.”

There is silence again, and he does not need sight to know that she is blushing. “I'm leaving,” she harrumphed, and that brings a smile to his face.

Strange god that he was, he blessed her journey, even though she did not ask him to. Who could blame him, really? He was allowed to pick favourites.

The next day, the girl appears again, in less-than-subtle ways. She did not make her presence known, only making sounds with her straw broom, sweeping away the fallen leaves. Mitsuhide used to have followers, long time ago, that did the same thing, and he distantly wondered if this girl was trying to use him like they did.

“And your wish, little one?”

She stops her sweeping and he feels the distinct, loathing glare she sent his way. “That you stop calling me little!”

“I'm afraid I can't fulfill your wish, since I do not know your name.”

“Mai! it’s Mi-zu-sa-ki Mai! Read as blooming water and dance!”

“With that voice, I am inclined to call you little mouse instead.”

She groans, and Mitsuhide feels himself becoming a little more human again. How long was it since he’d had a playful interaction with a human that didn’t try to leech off him?

“I told you mine.” she huffs out in indignation. “Tell me yours.”

“Your villagers have already given me a name.”

“That doesn’t count!” He hears the sound of wood hitting wood, and realises that she has paused her sweeping to focus on him, instead. The attention almost makes him blush. Being a god is really tremendous work when you forgot you were once human, too. “What is your real name?”

Mitsuhide indulges in her voice, relishing in the way she had expressed true interest in what he was instead of what he was for others. “Mitsuhide. Read as ’excellent light’.”

Even though Mitsuhide does not care much about the opinions of others, he felt a little squeamish at her silence. He instead chose to squash any feelings of returning her interest, boxing those thoughts of “affection” into the back of his mind. Finally, she says: “It's really pretty.”

The praise certainly wasn’t poetic or linguistically intricate in any way, but Mitsuhide feels his heart pound painfully anyways. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” she says, and he wondered what it felt like to be her; sunlight compressed, hearing the smile in her voice as clearly as he could imagine it. Mizusaki Mai. Read as blooming water and dance. In his mind, she was as unflinching as the sunflowers facing north, and even when the gentle spring wind was replaced by the storms—she continued to blossom.

He shuts the lid on these thoughts, swearing to never reveal them to her. “So, little mouse?” He smiles, and he didn’t stop to wonder why smiling around her felt so natural. “Have you a wish for me today?”

“It’s not like you’ll grant it anyways.”

He laughs. “Clever, little mouse.” There was the softness of morning dew in his voice. “Very clever.”

“I'm here,” she says, her words bubbling at the surface like a babbling river, “Because I thought you’d be lonely.”

“However did you come up with that idea?”

“I don't know,” The words were spoken softly and with humility at the presumptuous thought that he was feeling as such. “I don’t know. I would feel lonely if I were you.”

“Alas, my dear, you are not me.”

She hums noncommittally. “I guess.” He feels the floorboards creak under her movements, and her voice is closer this time. “Do you mind if I stay anyways?”

“Are your friends not good company?”

“They are, but…” she trails off meaningfully. He didn’t need her to finish the sentence. Humans are as fragile as they are brash, after all. Some of them are too shallow. Some too cowardly. Some too self centered, some too much of everything for someone like her. “You don’t need my permission, little mouse. It’s not like I can stop you from coming anyways.”

“I would hate it if I was the only one that enjoys talking to you,” Such soft words and chosen so kindly, the noble way she looked for permission out of consideration of his own feelings. It was something he never experienced, even when he was human.

Mitsuhide smiles. “I quite enjoy our talks, fret not.”

Her movements are abrupt, and he can hear her short intake of breath before she spoke. “Really?”

“Really.” One word that contained the warmth and affection of a kindling, heating someone up from fingertips to the ends of each individual hair strand.

“Thank you.” Her breath was a hummingbird’s feather, and it touches him like summer melting away the snow.

“Mai!” The distant yell surprised both of them. “Where are you!?” The voice came from beyond the forest, and it belonged to an adult man.

“Coming!” she yelled in response, and he hears the clackity clack sounds of her sandals in haste. “Bye, then. See you tomorrow, Mitsuhide!”

Before he could tell her the same, the sound of her heels became more and more distant.

Even though she does not wish for it, he blessed her journey back home anyways.

He measures the days not with the help of his fox messengers now, but with her presence. She visited him around afternoon time when the sun was high, and she left him when dusk broke.

It became clear to him that she genuinely enjoyed his company, and he enjoyed hers. He didn’t know what to do with that information, so he simply kept quiet.

“Hey,” she says one day. “Why do you hate the villagers here?”

Mitsuhide pauses to consider it. “Hate is such a strong word. I prefer nonchalant.”

“Fine, we’ll go with that then.” It took her no time at all to get used to his nitpicky way of speaking, and he feels his heart pound strangely at that.

Contrary to the feeling of love in his chest, he says: “Because humans are selfish. they pray and wish and when all is done, they congratulate themselves instead of offering gratitude for the people that helped them.” He knows he was talking about himself at this point, but she didn’t need to know that. “Their ambitions are blood in the water, and they bare their fangs and teeth when push comes to shove. Flighty, selfish, inconsistent—I find such traits tiring to deal with.”

“Hmm,” she stops swinging her legs then, pausing thoughtfully. “So you don’t hate it if they were thankful about it?”

“No, because I have accepted that it’s human nature to think of themselves highly when they’ve achieved something. I only detest their reliance on prayers and wishes. If I want something, I will go get it myself instead of buying good luck charms on new years’ eve, or putting my head on the ground and beg.”

“That kinda defeats the purpose of a god, don’t you think?”

“Maybe so. But it is my truth.”

“Well, to some others, prayers help, y'know?”

“Useless hope?”

“If it’s in something they want to believe in, then it’s not useless. As much as it was wrong of me to assume you were lonely, it’s wrong of you to assume that they are all shallow in their thoughts. True, there are some bad people that will try to take advantage of you, but I say it’s balanced out by the people that help you, too.”

Mitsuhide feels cynicism snaking its way to his tongue, but he bid himself patience, for he wanted to hear her thoughts. “Even something like praying can give peace. Because you believe someone can do something about it, even if you can’t. And to us villagers, who often get walked over by the nobles and kings and sword-wielders, hope is a weapon for the mind.” He felt the breath left him. “Because it’s a sign that we’re not giving up.”

There was silence between them, and he felt like the distance between them stretched an ocean away. Gentle sunflower, he thought. How do you continue to bloom?

She must have interpreted the silence as an awkward one, for she kept apologising over and over again, leaving him in a hurry with a half-baked excuse. He smiles, and blessed her journey back to be a safe one.

She returns to him that night, where only the cry of summer cicadas could be heard.

He recognises her by her footsteps well now; he did not ask or prod when she simply entrusted her weight of her body to the floor, sniffing and sobbing all the while. The sound breaks his heart, and he wishes that his hand would materialise and touch hers in comfort.

When she has finished crying, she sits up, hiccuping. “T-thank you… for letting me cry.”

Maybe some humour would do her good. “I don't recall being asked permission.”

An ugly snort came from her, and he hears her fist thud gently on the wall, a mock gesture of anger. “Very funny. Thank you for trying to help, though.”

Before he can protest, she said: “I know you were trying to make me angry to distract myself from my own sadness, so don’t think you can smart mouth your way out of this!” There was a daring smile at the end of her words, and he feels himself smile too. He smiled often around her.

“You’ve caught me,” he says. For a while, there was only the sound of her breaths syncing with the pulsing of stars in the sky. Nights in summer were lonely and quiet.

Finally, she speaks. “It was because of my cat. She passed away today.” It seemed as though the mere thought of not seeing her cat again drove her to near tears. He wants to comfort her, but he was afraid of saying something wrong or unnecessary. He is fairly new to the business of comforting people, after all. He’d never done it intentionally when he was a human. Oh well. Late lessons, he thinks.

“She was getting old. She died of natural causes, so I’m glad she was granted that wish at least.” She exhales a breath.

Mitsuhide was perplexed. “Why did you come to me? You know I would not have any words of comfort. Would you like me to say ‘she’s in a better place now’, like the rest of them would?”

She laughs. “Actually, no. I prefer you as you are.” she shifts, making herself comfortable. “The reason I came to you is because… there was no one else that I could trust myself to. My whole family is grieving, and me crying to them about it will make it worse, y'know? My friends… are busy. Any words coming out of the mouth of people I don’t trust would sound shallow, and it would hurt me more, I think.”

Mitsuhide’s mind was throbbing, and his heart rate increased. “You trust me?”

“Don’t get me wrong! I’m not trying to make a deal with you to bring her back or anything like that! It’s just…” she sighs in melancholy. “It’s just that there’s nothing I can do about it, and thinking of you, and how you’d say ‘it won’t hurt so badly’, it just bought me comfort. I know it’s just my own selfish expectations, though.”

Mitsuhide pauses. “You’re wrong.”

“What?”

“You’re wrong.” Her assumption wasn’t unfounded, for he had planted those seeds of doubt in her all along. “I wouldn't say that.”

He hears her breath shudder, as if she was about to cry. “Losing someone you love hurts, no matter how many times you’ve become familiar with loss. It doesn’t stop hurting. We just… become stronger from it because we have to keep surviving.” He wishes he could touch her hair. “It’s okay to cry if you’re feeling sad.” He wishes he could cradle her in his arms.

Those were the words that opened the dam once more, and she sobbed and clutched her heart in agony, crying again and again until her eyes were swollen red and dawn gave way, banishing the slightly-less-lonely summer night.

“Tell me your wish,” she says a week later.

She was lucky she wasn’t subject to his facial features, for he was sure he looked like he was balking. “My wish?”

“Yes.”

“Where is this coming from?”

“I'm getting married.”

His heart stops. “What?” Perhaps being in this heavenly form had distorted his hearing. He hopes so.

“I'm getting married,” she says softly, like a secret she didn’t want to tell. “In two days.”

He has to remind himself to breathe. “What does this have to do with my wish?”

“It’s likely that we won’t speak much after I get married.” she sighs. “My husband-to-be isn’t very fond of my habits, you see.”

It was because of him. It was because he had taken up so much of her time that her reputation had become tainted, her name sullied as it mingled with his. How could he have been so careless? He had forgotten of the rift that had held them apart, every barrier gone to give path to mirthful laughter and teasing. What was he doing? Their relationship was forbidden. What was he doing?

“What I wish,” he summons his old human tongue now, recalling the familiar way he used to keep people at arms’ length. “Is for some peace and quiet.” The words were polished sharp like knives.

He felt her falter. “I—”

“You were fun as a momentary pleasure, but unfortunately now that you’re about to be wed, I see there’s no reason to keep you around anymore. I do not intend to harbour hopeless children in my temple.”

Please hate me, he pleads. Please don’t stay.

He hears her choke on her sobs, hears the way she wanted to speak but feared that the words that would come tumbling out were simply pathetic whimpers. Her weight lifts off the floorboards, and he hears the sound of her sandals become distant.

He blesses her with a safe journey home.

This is good, he thinks. This is what’s best.

The days returns to being a blur again, and he had no way of telling the time. Life with her had been so colourful that he became unused to living in a palette of greys and midnight. He sends his fox messengers to check up on her every so often, and they returned to him with stories of how she looked happy, adorned in beautiful robes that were like a painted festival.

It is the day of her marriage, and he hears the crowd cheering and drinking long into the night, truths spilling out like seafoam. They call her a beautiful bride. They call them a perfect couple. They pray that she would birth a child. They blabber about how lucky she is to have found a man that loves her for her silly, childish antics, of her running into the forest, of treating injured foxes.

Her happiness is mine, he thinks. He would be content with this.

At least, he should be.

A week after the wedding, she approaches him again, and her sandals barely make any sound. They are heavy and encourage her to stand straight, her posture one of true grace. “Mitsuhide,” she says, and he almost cries at hearing her voice again. “Mitsuhide, I’m back.”

He feels like holding her close to his body, but he could not. Instead, he summons ice into his tone. “Why are you here?” It was hard, surprisingly. The summer days had melted into his being, making blood out of his marrows and not icicles.

“It doesn't matter.” she sits down on the floors like she had done so many times. “Honestly, I hate my husband.”

He felt his spine straighten, and all his inhibitions flew out of the window. “Make a wish,” he said. “I swear, should you wish to be taken away, I will grant it.”

She laughs, and he was sure that the sound didn’t fit her appearance of a demure and courteous lady. “Nope! You’ve taught me something, Mitsuhide.” She turns, touching her hand against the temple wall. It was as close as she could be without physically touching him. “If I want something, I should grab it myself.”

The wish isn’t for you, he thinks. It’s for me. It’s out of my own selfish desire to keep you safe and happy, and I am sorry for being in love with you.

He has no words to say to that, and he feels his heart pound, heavy with longing and the desire to caress her cheeks. She presses her forehead to the wall, and he swore the phantom of his felt it. “I promise I’ll come back to you. Will you tell me what your wish is?” The words ended in a whisper, so sweet yet tempting at the same time.

“A promise.” It is impossible. “Promise that you’ll always be with me.” It is impossible. She was just a human and he was someone unburdened by time.

He felt her smile then, sunflower incarnate, and his mind went blank. “I promise.” He bids her goodbye under the lonely summer afternoon, and he blessed her journey back home for the last time without knowing.

From summer, it dipped into autumn, and in winter, his fox messenger tells him that she has died of hypothermia. They tell him that she went into the mountains to search for her child, and was found collapsed on the ground as she held her child close to her chest.

Mitsuhide feels his senses numb, and when her family brought her corpse back to him in order to be blessed, he could not stop himself from wishing that he had his sight, if only to stare at the lifeless body of her. Sunflower incarnate that had wilted, a frosted flower now. He imagines her cheeks to be the blue of the sea, and he imagines that her skin is as cold as the day he was usurped into the temple, the stormy afterlife welcoming her as they did him.

The years pass unremarkably, until a young lady picks up a broom and brushes the leaves in the wake of his decrepit temple, forming a path. He does not know her name, but her footsteps are familiar—not at all weighted by heavy sandles.

She approaches the temple, aweing over the way it had held its shape throughout the years and the harsh seasons. “Hello?” she asks hesitantly. “My name is Mizusaki Mai. Is anyone there?”

His smile came easy, for he always knew how to when he was around her. “Yes,” he says. “And your wish, little one?”

#ikemen sengoku #ikesen #ikesen mitsuhide #ikesen writing #ikesen fanfic

23 notes · View notes

loki-hargreeves · 4 years

Text

Geralt of Rivia x Vampire!Reader - The Prize of Blood [PART 1]

[PART 2] Warnings: angst, mild gore, vulgar language, mentions of blood, guilt, hurt/comfort Word Count: 5,5K Summary: You have accompanied your old friends Geralt and Jaskier on a mission, guiding them through an enchanted forest to a mage who is in hiding. Geralt needs to find the mage, because of her knowledge of destiny and the law of surprise. During the few days you spend together, you and Geralt get closer to each other. One night, you disappear. You get taken by a vampire, but Geralt stops it from killing you. Geralt doesn’t find you until it’s too late, the vampire has bitten you. The only way you could stay human is by getting help from the mage. You must find her before it’s too late to reverse your changes. Author’s Note: This is the first time I’m writing for the Witcher fandom, so please excuse me if I make mistakes! Enjoy! :) Also I know how vampires work in the Witcher universe, but I have chosen to ignore one simple fact for the sake of the story

THIRD POV

It had been quite an ordinary day. Y/N was currently working at a pub in a small village which was the perfect cover up for her past life. Nobody knew her, which was exactly how she wanted it to be. She woke up, got ready for the day and got to work. Sure, the pub wasn’t fancy, but she met plenty of interesting people and they always slipped a few secrets that they should’ve probably kept to themselves. Whenever people would stay at the village overnight, they ended up at this pub. It seemed to attract everything from commoners to mages, knights and even criminals.

So far, no one had recognized her as the human woman who cast spells. She was expelled from her kingdom after she was caught and as Y/N had left, the king had sent two assassins after her. After a battle she nearly lost, Y/N had no choice but to kill the men. It was the first time she killed people and she didn’t fancy it, but she was left with no choice. People believed her to be evil and after she killed for the very first time, she sure felt that way. Y/N had felt terrible about it until she met Geralt and Jaskier for the first time. Somehow, the Witcher had made her feel much better about herself.

The day had been quite ordinary until Geralt and Jaskier waltzed through the heavy wooden doors. Y/N nearly dropped the empty mug she was right about to fill with ale. It had been at least three years since she last saw the two of them and she feared the day would never come again on which their paths would cross. Quickly, Y/N filled the mug and handed it to the weary customer. Then she dried her hands on her skirt and nearly ran towards the duo she so dearly cared about. “Geralt! Jaskier!” She wanted to catch their attention, saying their names ever so cheerfully and possibly grabbing the attention of the customers as well.

A head of long, white hair turned first and a moment later, Y/N stood right in front of him. Geralt’s golden eyes looked at her from under his dark hood and he seemed relieved to see the woman. “Y/N, it’s nice to see you,” Geralt let the tiniest smile slip.

A loud gasp made both of them turn to face Jaskier. “Y/N! Now tell me this isn’t destiny at its best. We were looking for you all over this village and now you just appear out of thin air right under our noses! How convenient is that?”

He hadn’t changed at all. Jaskier was still the same old chatty and cheerful him that he was three years ago.

A chuckle left Y/N’s lips as she pulled Jaskier into a hug. “It’s nice to see you too.”

“Unfortunately, we’re not here for fun. We need your help,” Geralt revealed, hating to break the happy reunion.

It was strange to hear that from the Witcher. Frankly, it worried Y/N. He rarely needed help so she knew this was likely something as dangerous as it was three years ago when they first met. “Follow me then,” Y/N knew right away that it had to be serious if they came to her for aid. She let go of Jaskier and decided to lead them to a table that was more private than the spot they stood on, right in front of the door, in everybody’s view. They reached the corner booth and she let them sit by the tiny window. Y/N sat down next to Geralt. “What can I do for you?”

Jaskier looked at Geralt nervously, probably expecting him to explain it to Y/N. He didn’t enjoy being the bringer of bad news, not when Y/N was the one to receive them.

Geralt wanted to keep a low profile. He felt several eyes on them, but it was loud enough in the pub so he hoped they wouldn’t hear him if he spoke quietly. Asking for help didn’t come easy for him, but he had no choice, “We need to find a mage. We’ve been told she is hiding in the enchanted forest. We would get lost by her spells if we went in blindly.”

“You want me to guide you?” Y/N smiled as excitement began to bubble in her veins. Sure, she had enjoyed her stay in the village, but she felt like she had stayed for way too long. An adventure like this was exactly what she craved. It made her wish to leave right away, but she didn’t want to be too eager.

Jaskier was now meddling with his lute, pulling the strings either in search for inspiration or just for the sake of it. “We were hoping you’d like to come with us. The last time you did, you came in handy.”

“I came in handy,” Y/N raised her eyebrows playfully. Jaskier sure knew what to say.

“Oh, come on! I don’t know what it is about you and how you become immune to spells, but that’s exactly what we need. Besides, I see that you want to come. You can barely stay in your seat,” Jaskier smirked as he noticed how excited she was by her body language. But he had to speak so loudly, making people eavesdrop on their conversation now.

Geralt didn’t like that. “Jaskier, shut up!” He growled, hoping he would for once in his life try to keep a low-profile.

Y/N giggled softly, feeling overjoyed by their company. It didn’t mean she would be easy on them. “What’s in it for me?” She wondered and rested her jaw on her palm, eyeing Geralt with a soft gaze.

Her question seemed to take him by surprise, as if he didn’t expect it. Last time, she had practically begged them to take her with them. Now she seemed much harder to get. The change in her made Geralt happy for her. Someone like her should stand her ground. “We’ll pay you.”

“How much?” Y/N kept playing this game, glancing at Jaskier who was following the situation closely.

“How much are you asking for?” Geralt wondered. He wouldn’t admit it, but he was fairly nervous that she would decline for whatever reason. He had no idea what they would do if she wouldn’t take them to the mage.

That’s when Y/N couldn’t keep a straight face. “I’m not going to take your coin, Geralt! Of course, I’ll help you. You’re my friends.”

Friends. Geralt didn’t like that word, but he wasn’t going to argue with her about that. He was glad she was coming with them.

“I knew it!” Jaskier chirped, happy as a bird.

“We should leave at dawn,” Geralt declared bluntly. It would be safer to leave early, for the nights were the most dangerous.

Y/N stood up from the booth all of a sudden. “Let me grab you two something to drink. It’s on the house! We can talk more over drinks,” She suggested kindly.

Geralt watched as she walked through the pub towards the small bar. As he noticed how the dirty old men looked at her, he felt his gut twist in anger. Their eyes lingered on her body a little too long. Suddenly, Geralt noticed how a group of soldiers pointed at her and whispered. He clenched his strong jaw as he witnessed this. How long had she worked here? In Geralt’s mind, the place was a disgrace, full of scumbags. But on the other hand, he couldn’t blame them too much. Y/N was a sight for sore eyes, and she was beautiful – inside out.

“Hello? Geralt? Is anybody in there?” Jaskier poked the Witcher’s shoulder after a brief silence. Geralt tore his eyes off Y/N and turned to face Jaskier who had a smirk growing on his glee face. “You still fancy her, don’t you?”

“How many times do I have to tell you to shut up, Jaskier?”

Somehow, that seemed to be a confirmation to Jaskier. “So, you do! This is amazing, Geralt. I could totally see by the way you looked at her. That said, do you think these people would mind if I played a little something for them?”

Geralt would be lying if he said he truly wanted Jaskier gone. Whatever it was, friends as Jaskier liked to call it, they cared for each other. But he would also be lying if he said Jaskier never got on his nerves. Right now, he didn’t mind if he would grab his lute and perhaps to entertain the villagers. “Hm,” Geralt hummed and decided to look out of the window, ignoring him. Just like that, Jaskier got up and a few moments later, he was pulling the strings and singing a tune Geralt knew a tad too well.

Toss a coin to your Witcher…

Y/N returned to the booth with a tray and tree pints. She seemed to enjoy Jaskier’s performance since she mouthed the lyrics too. As she sat down next to Geralt, she handed him his drink. “That tune gets stuck on my brain. It’s catchy.”

Geralt took a large sip of his ale, watching Jaskier who was resting his foot on the table full of strangers. If it wasn’t for the women that seemed enthralled by him, Geralt was certain the men around the table would’ve knocked him off already. “Once you hear it as many times as I have, you wouldn’t say that.”

Dawn arrived soon enough. Y/N owned a small house in the village where she had taken Jaskier and Geralt. because she lived alone, she only owned a bed and a couch. For the night, she had slept next to Geralt as Jaskier took the couch. Three years ago, they shared a bed as well, but it felt much more intimate now that they were under her roof in her home. The bed wasn’t too big. Geralt, on the other hand, was huge. They slept so close that Y/N could feel his body heat dancing on her skin. His mucky scent filled her lungs and somehow lulled her to sleep. It awoke feelings she had tried to bury long ago.

By the time morning came, Geralt was already awake, sitting on the bedside. Y/N rubbed the sleep out of her eyes and focused on Geralt. Seeing him confirmed that she hadn’t been dreaming. They were actually there. “Good morning,” She muttered tiredly, yet she was happy.

Geralt was already fully dressed, she noticed. “Good morning, Y/N,” Geralt replied. Just like that, he got up from the bed. Y/N watched for a while as Geralt shook Jaskier awake. “Get up, Jaskier. It’s time to leave.”

Y/N decided to get dressed and fill her bag with anything she suspected they would need. Everything ranging from food to potions. Geralt didn’t question her at all.

Roach was in her backyard. Y/N’s neighbor was an elderly woman who also owned horses, which was quite convenient. After paying her, the woman agreed to look after Roach until they would return. According to Geralt, the enchanted forest would scare the horse too and he didn’t wish to put it through such stress.

Just like that, they were on the go.

The first few hours of the day seemed fine. Y/N guided them further into the enchanted forest that was rich of tall trees and beautiful plant life. The flowers might’ve looked harmless, but Y/N and Geralt knew some of them were toxic. A sniff of the wrong flower could make someone hallucinate very vividly, keeping them from reaching the heart of the forest where the mage was likely hiding. Jaskier was just about to grab some berries, until Y/N stopped him.

“Jaskier dear, unless you want to see your worst nightmares unfold before your eyes, don’t eat those berries,” She told him ever so calmly.

Jaskier dropped the berries on the ground and hurriedly walked away from the bushes. “Is anything edible around here?”

“Once we reach a pond or a lake, we could fish. The living prey is safe to eat. Keep your eyes open for fruit trees. If we’re lucky, we’ll find these fruits that resemble peaches, but they’re much sweeter,” Y/N told Jaskier like it was common knowledge for a human to know.

Geralt was impressed by her knowledge. For an ordinary human, she knew things she shouldn’t have. It was why she was so often on his mind. Geralt loved knowledge. He would’ve loved to know more of her and how she ended up being the woman she was now. “We should get as far as we can before nightfall. This can take a few days,” Geralt reminded them. This wasn’t a one-day trip.

After walking for a while, Y/N’s curiosity got the best of her. “Why are you after this mage?” She wondered innocently.

Jaskier nearly choked on thin air. It made Y/N wonder if she had said something wrong. “Well you see, Geralt and I visited Cintra and got in cahoots with the royal family. Long story short, Geralt ended up saving a princess and her fiance, husband, whatever. He lifted a spell and for his reward, Geralt here proclaimed the law of surprise! Can you believe that?”

Y/N was surprised as she listened to Jaskier. The law of surprise? Why would Geralt choose that? She didn’t know he believed in destiny whatsoever. “And how does that tie in with whatever we are doing here?” She wondered furthermore.

Geralt didn’t seem too keen to explain. It seemed like Jaskier was doing a wonderful job at that already, so he let him continue. “The princess got pregnant after that. Thanks a lot, Geralt! And after the child was born, the queen tried to kill Geralt. It seems like she’s hiding something, besides the obvious. Then one day we overheard these lovely gentlemen talking about this mage. Apparently, she knows all about destiny, the law of surprise. Hopefully, she also knows the answers to Geralt’s questions. He thinks the child is in danger, or something.”

Jaskier’s story nearly shocked Y/N. It was the last thing she had expected! Geralt had a child? A Witcher had a child! It blew her mind to think about. It made sense why Geralt would go through such a hassle to find a mage. Whether Geralt admitted or not, he cared for the child. “So, you have a child.”

“By the law of surprise. Now Jaskier, I think you’ve said enough,” Geralt seemed upset for some reason. Clearly, he didn’t like to talk about it too much, so Y/N decided not to push his buttons.

Just in time, Y/N noticed the glimmering water, hiding behind a row of pine trees. The sun was shining brightly above them which Y/N noticed by the calm waves that reflected the golden rays. “Hey! We should stop. There’s a lake over there!” Y/N pointed at the water that was nearby. It was the perfect distraction from the conversation they just had.

The three of them turned to their right and walked towards the lake. Geralt would’ve liked to continue, but he knew that his companions would get hungry and thirsty much faster than him, so it was only fair to take a break. Once he ignored the fact, they were in an enchanted forest full of traps and dangers, it was quite a beautiful day. The sun was shining, it was warm and so far, it had been rather peaceful.

But Geralt couldn’t relax. He knew that if he lost focus, even he could get trapped. The enchanted forest’s spells could sneak into his head and make him wander off into the distance and never return to Jaskier and Y/N. It was the same for Jaskier, which was why Geralt had to keep him in sight at all times. Y/N on the other hand seemed to be unbothered by this. She could probably walk through the enchanted forest all on her own without getting lost. How? Geralt had no idea, but he wanted to know.

After a while, they had caught fish and Jaskier filled their bottles up with water from the sweet lake. They continued their journey much further into the forest. Hours passed and it got dark. As the sun disappeared from their sight, the air around them felt much colder. The shadows were darker, offering shelter to whatever dangerous creatures lurked around. Geralt knew they had to seek shelter for the night. They ended up stopping by a cliff that kept the wind from blowing through their clothes and making them cold. There were trees all around them and it felt safe. Geralt set up a bonfire as Y/N and Jaskier made the beds for the night. It felt almost too calm when the three of them sat around the bonfire and cooked the fish from earlier.

“I don’t know about you guys, but I can’t wait to hit the hay!” Jaskier mumbled and yawned right after he finished his sentence. He had barely slept last night, since he spent so much time at the pub. It was understandable that he was tired. They had been walking since dawn.

“How are we going to sleep?” Y/N wondered as her eyes lingered of the flames that offered them heat and safety from certain predators. “I mean, to be safe we should keep close. If any of you two wake up in the middle of the night, I want to notice that. If you get lost from my sight, I can’t assure I’ll be able to find you.”

“Wait- what?” Jaskier suddenly didn’t sound as tired as he did a moment ago.

Geralt knew Y/N was right. He didn’t like the idea, but to be safe, they would have to sleep right next to each other. Hopefully, Y/N wouldn’t mind being sandwiched between the two of them. “I have rope with me. We could tie our wrists together. It should alarm anyone if we got up, right?” The Witcher suggested wisely.

“That’s perfect,” Y/N smiled. She seemed relieved now that she heard Geralt’s suggestion.

“Did you imply that the forest could make us wander off into the distance?” Jaskier still didn’t forget what Y/N said.

So, he didn’t know. “It can do much more than that if it sees you as a threat,” Y/N confirmed what Jaskier feared. The man didn’t look too excited anymore.

“Great!”

As they got to bed, Jaskier fell asleep like a child. It meant that Y/N and Geralt were the only ones awake in the middle of an enchanted forest. It was a full moon night which meant it was cold. The blanket they had struggled to keep her body warm and she hated it when she felt how she trembled.

“Are you cold?” Geralt wondered with a soft voice.

“A little bit,” Y/N admitted. She knew there was no use in lying.

What the Witcher did next was surprising. He raised his arm and the blanket, “Come here,” He offered her to warm up right next to him.

Y/N’s heart leapt to her throat and she had to look away from him. Had he no idea how flustered he just made her? She nodded and then shifted over, immediately noticing how much warmer she was by his side. Geralt wrapped the blanket tightly around them and then he rested his arm on her waist, checking her facial expression to see if he had gone too far. She didn’t seem to mind. With that in mind, Geralt traced small patters on her stomach.

“Geralt?” Her voice was so small now. They were close enough that they could whisper and hear each other. He hoped he hadn’t gone too far.

“Hm?” He simply hummed, encouraging her to go on.

Y/N seemed shy for some reason. Her body was relaxed under his touch, so Geralt didn’t suspect it was that. “I missed you,” She finally admitted ever so quietly, but Geralt was certain he heard right. Three years ago, they parted rather unfortunately. They had been close. He knew it was unfair how things ended back then, but he believed they hadn’t lost that spark.

Her words made his heart swell. For someone who was known of having no feelings, he felt a lot right now. “I missed you too, Y/N.”

Geralt was the last to be awake. Y/N and Jaskier were fast asleep right next to him and surely enough, they were tied to each other by their wrists. Hopefully, they wouldn’t be attacked during the night or else they would find themselves in a clumsy situation. The full moon hung heavy above their heads as twinkling stars were scattered all across the dark sky. The fire was keeping them warm. If it wasn’t for the dangers Geralt knew of, he would’ve enjoyed the day. But he struggled to relax when he knew that the enchanted forest was full of threats.

He shifted his gaze from the moon to Y/N. She was right next to him. Her soft body was pressed against his chest and she seemed quite comfortable being so near to Geralt. She had fallen asleep very fast as Geralt had wrapped his strong arm around her body ever so safely.

Hoping to catch some sleep, Geralt nuzzled his face closer to Y/N. Her sweet scent pushed through his nostrils and it was almost scary how it relaxed him. Slowly, but surely, he fell asleep next to her. Geralt believed sincerely that nothing could harm her when she was in his arms. But nothing made sense in an enchanted forest. Anything could happen.

When he awoke, it only took him a few seconds to realize Y/N wasn’t in his arms. Jaskier was snoring lightly and Geralt realized that the rope was cut. Panic jolted him up on his feet and he searched their surroundings, hoping to see Y/N nearby. When Geralt realized she wasn’t around, he felt sick. Anger, worry and even fear spiked in his veins, making it feel like his blood was turning into ice. He knew she wouldn’t just leave them like this! Something was wrong. Geralt didn’t understand how he hadn’t woken up when she had! Was it the forest?

Afraid to leave Jaskier alone, Geralt woke him up. “Get up, Jaskier! Y/N’s gone,” He informed his travel companion almost in a panic.

Jaskier got up and looked at the piece of rope that hung lazily from his wrist. “What happened?” He wondered as he took it off. It only took a moment for Jaskier to feel frightened. “She’s gone?! Oh no, this is bad. This is really bad, Geralt!”

“Don’t you think I know that?!” Geralt growled. He didn’t like to raise his voice, but he was so worried and angry at himself for letting this happen that he couldn’t help himself. Without Y/N, it was only a question of time before the forest would possess them. They had to find her! “Fuck!”

An ear-piercing scream caught the two men’s attention. It didn’t come too far away, and it definitely sounded like Y/N. Without hesitation, Geralt ran off into the direction of her scream and Jaskier was fast to run after him. “Wait for me!”

Geralt, whose pulse was always extraordinarily calm, was now much harder. He looked all around him in a rush, barely acknowledging Jaskier who was struggling to keep up with him. She’s in danger, was the only thing that he chanted in his head. Geralt wasn’t sure if he could ever forgive himself if something happened to her now. It would be all his fault!

“Y/N!” Geralt called her name, his raspy voice echoing throughout the forest. Some birds that had rested were startled and they flew away from Geralt.

The smell of blood surprised him. It was fresh. It smelled like her and it made him sick to his stomach. Geralt took a sudden turn to his left and followed the scent of blood. He pushed his way through bushes. The spikes tore his clothes and his skin, but he didn’t care. Geralt had only one goal in his mind and it was to find Y/N.

Finally, he made his way through the plants and he found her. Y/N was forcefully pushed against a tree as some creature had dug its teeth deep into her neck. Tears were rolling down her face and she could hardly breathe because of the pain she was under.

It was a vampire!

“Get the fuck off of her!” Geralt growled angrily and ran towards the vampire. He noticed right off the bat that it was a higher vampire, easily someone you could mistake for a human. It smiled viciously at Geralt as it pulled its sharp teeth from Y/N’s neck that was now oozing with crimson red.

Geralt attacked the vampire swiftly and luckily, it let go of Y/N. He nearly grabbed it, but the vampire was fast. It dodged the Witcher’s attack and then ran towards Jaskier, possibly seeing his next target.

In a hurry, Geralt grabbed a silver dagger and he threw it towards the vampire, watching as the blade sunk into its back. The creature screeched in pain and fell on the ground clumsily. Geralt was ready to kill it, but he knew vampires were hard to kill. They were able to regenerate. Even if he cut his head off, that bastard would slowly but surely be fine. It didn’t mean Geralt couldn’t make it squirm in pain.

From his bag, Geralt grabbed a tiny bottle of vampire oil. “You should’ve kept your fangs away from her,” He said in a low voice, sounding haunting to Jaskier who was now by Y/N’s side, pressing his hand on her bleeding neck.

“How could I not taste the blood of such a special little mortal, hm? Not only is she a virgin, but there is something magical. She tasted so delicious!” The vampire grunted in pain, but it didn’t stop him from mocking Y/N. Geralt pulled the dagger out of its back and stepped on its shoulder blade, keeping the vampire from getting up.

A special little mortal. A virgin. Geralt felt disgusted by the vampire for revealing that about Y/N. It was her private matters and this fanged lunatic was talking about it as if being a virgin was simply an ingredient of its meal. “You’re a higher vampire! You don’t need blood to survive. What were you thinking?” Geralt wondered as he poured vampire oil on the silver blade. The vampire could smell the oil and all of a sudden, it tried to free itself from Geralt’s grasp – hopelessly.

“Forgive me, Witcher! She was too tempting to resist!” It seemed ready to beg in order to be set free.

Geralt’s rage was too great in order to have mercy for this vampire. The consequences it had now put on Y/N’s shoulders were unforgivable. Without hesitation, Geralt grabbed the vampire’s dark hair and pulled it against his chest. “Crawl back into the little hole you came out of and never, I mean never ever get in my sight ever again or else I’ll be sure to mutilate you, so it takes centuries for you to regenerate!” Geralt threatened the vampire with a burning passion, surprising Jaskier who had never heard Geralt this enraged by a monster.

An eye for an eye, Geralt thought as he pushed the sharp blade, coated in vampire oil, deep into its neck. The vampire tossed and turned in pain as the vampire oil took effect, bringing great pain upon it. It cursed in an unknown language. Geralt couldn’t find pity for the creature that could’ve easily killed Y/N for no good reason! He retreated his silver dagger and then got up, watching as the injured vampire made its great escape. Once it was gone, he rushed to Y/N’s aid. His anger was faded and was replaced by deep worry.

Y/N was crying uncontrollably. Her entire body was shaking in fear and from the shock as blood poured out of the bite marks on her neck. Geralt noticed that she had put up a fight as well. her palms were bleeding and she had skin underneath her nails. There was a bruise forming on her cheek and on her knuckles. The sight of her was heavy on his heart.

Silently, with his mind full of guilt, Geralt got down next to her and decided to tend to her wounds. He grabbed a bottle of dark liquid from his bag, popping it open and then he put the neck of the bottle on Y/N’s lips. She didn’t resist it as Geralt made her drink some of the nasty liquid. As she had drunk enough, he pulled it away. “This will hurt,” He warned her, feeling sorry for what he was about to do. Y/N grabbed Geralt’s wrist and he felt how warm her blood was against his skin. It sickened him. Then he poured the rest of the liquid on the bite mark, watching how her skin bubbled around it and the blood made a fizzy sound. At least, the bleeding stopped, and her wound was clean. She wouldn’t bleed out. She whimpered in pain and her nails dug into Geralt’s wrist, which he didn’t mind at all. It was nothing compared to the pain she felt.

Jaskier could hardly look at her. He had witnessed terrible things, but it hurt much worse to see a friend in distress.

Once Geralt was done tending her wounds, he pulled the frightened woman into his arms. Her body rested on his lap and she hid her face against his chest. Geralt was beyond relieved that they found her, but he felt physically ill because of the guilt. He was the one who dragged her into this forest. If he had let her live peacefully, she would be fine! It seemed like whenever Geralt cared about someone, something bad happened to them.

Y/N sobbed against his chest for a while, until she finally began to calm down. It took her a while to realize she was safe. The pain in her neck eased and she allowed her body to relax against Geralt’s. He saved her.

“We’re leaving,” Geralt made up his mind.

Despite her pain, Y/N decided to argue against that. “No,” She whispered, sniffling as she caught her breath. “We can’t l-leave now.”

“You almost got killed!” Geralt protested angrily, but it was clear his anger was directed at himself.

Y/N locked her eyes with his. For a moment, she wished she could just hold him, kiss him and tell him that everything is alright. She didn’t want him to dwell in guilt. After all, he had saved her. It was all that mattered!

It was clear Y/N wasn’t going to say anything, at least not yet, so Jaskier joined the conversation. “We’ve come quite far, Geralt. If she wants to continue, perhaps…perhaps it’s not too silly of an idea. What are the odds of another vampire attacking us?” Jaskier had been alarmed too, but he somehow managed to see the bright side of any situation.

Geralt clenched his jaw, holding himself back from snapping at Jaskier.

Y/N took a deep, shaky breath, “He’s right, Geralt. I’ll be fine.”

“The hell you will! Once the changes are beginning to take place, you’ll wish you’d be in the safety of your own home – not here!”

The changes?

“What are you talking about, Geralt?” Y/N was almost too afraid to ask him.

His golden eyes softened up and it almost looked like he pitied her. He braced himself to explain it by holding onto her a little tighter. This wouldn’t be easy to deliver. “You were bit by a higher vampire. You didn’t die. The poison is already in your system and it reached your heart only a few seconds after his teeth sunk into you. Y/N-,” Geralt stopped, struggling to finish what he was saying. She looked at him with wide eyes full of fear. She even held her breath in anticipation as she listened to the Witcher. “You’re going to be a vampire, Y/N.”

“Woah!” Jaskier bit his fist in order to shut himself up. Geralt shot him a nasty glare and the man had to take a few steps back.

Y/N felt her entire body stiffen on Geralt’s lap.

She would become a vampire?!

The realization struck every nerve in her body. She felt terrified! Every rumor and tale she had ever heard of them would now become her life. Would she too crave blood? Would she ever be able to stand under sunlight again? She had so many questions running in spirals in her head, but not a single word left her mouth.

Geralt noticed how shock took control over her entire body. The poor woman could hardly breathe properly.

“I’ll take you home. You don’t have to see us ever again if that’s what you want,” Geralt offered reluctantly. The last thing he wanted was to walk away from her again, but he understood her wishes if it was what she wanted. All of a sudden, Y/N wrapped her arms around Geralt’s neck, pulling him into a tight hug.

“P-Please don’t leave me! Not…Not again, not like this!” Y/N pleaded almost desperately. She didn’t want to be alone again nor did she want to go through major changes alone. Y/N knew that Geralt knew what was happening to her body. If only he could guide her though it.

“Guys,” Jaskier tried to get their attention. At first, neither of them heard him.

Geralt ran his large hand up and down her back in a calming manner as she held onto him for dear life.

“Guys!” Jaskier tried again, only gaining the Witcher’s attention. “Can’t the mage help Y/N?”

Jaskier was a genius! There was a chance a mage could remove the inevitable changes that could take control over Y/N. If anyone could do it, it would have to be a mage. It would be worth a shot, right?

[PART 2]

A/N: Yay! Here’s my first ever the Witcher fic! If you’d like to be tagged in part 2, let me know :) Your feedback would mean a lot to me! Especially now that I’m new to this fandom.

#The Witcher #The witcher fanfiction #The witcher x Reader #Geralt x Reader #Geralt of Rivia x Reader #Geralt x vampire!reader #Geralt x You #Geralt x Y/N #Geralt imagine #Geralt fanfiction #Geralt of Rivia fanfiction #tw gore #tw angst

158 notes · View notes

vexillumalbum · 4 years

Text

dawn spent by your side | MLQC GavinXReader

Fandom: MLQC

Word Count: 2772

Genre: fluff

Warnings: not-so-good pacing of the story and also terrible writing (but who’s surprised? not me)

There is something beautiful but depressing in dusks. When the blue of yet-not-so-dark sky meets the vibrant orange following after the setting sun. The day dies to let the night live like a lover giving up his life for his beautiful lady’s sake. He leaves so that she can rule. And then she cries and cries and cries and millions of her shining with sorrow tears decorate the heavens. Sometimes they are overshadowed by the evening curtain of fog that the gods send so that people are not able to see such a sad view.

It’s splendid, but tragic.

He knows tragedy better than anyone and still only this time of day brings him desired peace. Maybe because the unbearable light steps aside to let the darkness and cold dominate and these are the only things he is used to. What’s more - he likes them. They are permanent, certain, they will never fall. They are the epitomes of stability - something he’s craved since being a child.

Sitting at the table by the big window he is surrounded by couples enjoying their meals, families spending the evening together and business partners concluding contracts. Trying no to think about how out of place he feels, he focuses on the breathtaking painting made by the gods behind the glass and unknowingly his stressed grip on the edge of the table decreases. Usually, the vision of meeting you doesn't make him nervous, but today his heartbeat is slightly faster and his hands sweat a little more.

„I’m so sorry, Gavin!” Your sweet melodious voice pulls him out of his messy thoughts. It doesn’t escape his attention how panicked and out-of-breath you sound probably because of rushing here and feeling guilty for being over thirty minutes late. „I tried to make it on time, but the shooting’s been prolonged and then we had a problem with cameras and— ugh, nevermind. I’m really sorry.”

Before he even has a chance to stand up and help you get rid of your coat or move the chair for you to sit comfortably, you shoot him an apologetic smile and fall into a seat opposite him.

„It’s okay.” Gavin’s lips quirk slightly upwards and he is sure that the tips of his ears are now red. What your very presence does to him… „You didn’t have to hurry. I don’t mind waiting.”

It’s not a lie, but nevertheless a part of him is glad that you appeared in the restaurant before the sun has completely set, because the way the orange rays sweep your face makes Gavin wonder if maybe you are an angel sent to save his soul. As your eyes shine under the attack of warm light you squint them slightly to relieve tired after all day of looking at the computer screen or camera pupils. At the same time, you are wrinkling your nose and a few small wrinkles appear on your forehead, and his hands itch from wanting to smooth them out. Fortunately, he controls himself in time and clenches his fists on his lap.

The floral dress, which you spent the entire previous evening choosing, is slightly creased after a long day of work, but you hope that Gavin will not notice it. So you just casually take off your coat and hang it at the back of your chair - it may be too informal behavior for the restaurant you are in but you don’t care - and gently smooth out cleavage that got slightly out of place when you were running to get here. You don't know why, but a pleasant warmth is spread inside your chest when you see that the light blue Gavin’s blazer is exactly the same color as the flowers on your dress.

When the waiter brings you the dishes previously ordered by the officer at your request on the phone, you two are deeply engaged in a conversation about how Minor upset you and Anna that day and almost led to a catastrophe on the set. It is a kind of tradition that at every meeting you talk about your mutual friend - you most often complain about his behavior, and Gavin agrees at times adding some remarks about how long ago you should have dismissed Minor. None of you have bad intentions for the boy, of course, but you need to discuss some of his behavior with someone from time to time.

Vibrant mosaic of colors in the sky fades and gives way to beautiful stars scattered across the heavens as you two are eating desserts. All nervousness disappeared some time ago and a genuine smile and rosy cheeks appeared in its place. It's surprising how in your presence Gavin turns from a stern cold officer into a blushing tender man.

The conversation does not stop and you get the impression that you could talk with him for hours. Whatever you say, he listens intently and expresses his opinions when you need them or just nods when all you want to do is ramble. You see a flash of interest in his eyes even when you tell him about something that is completely outside his comfort zone and you swear that if he looks at you like that for a while longer, you’re gonna melt on the spot. Even the ice cream you eat between telling the story of the store you went to last weekend and laughing at Gavin's reactions doesn't help you cool down.

„I want to take you somewhere,” he says, when he’s leading you to the car he borrowed from Eli yesterday. It’s a jeep, adapted for off-road use. Perfect for what he has planned. „if you don’t mind.”

„Of course I don’t.” You give him a big smile, the one he adores so much. „But shouldn't I be the one taking you somewhere? This dinner was your idea, so I should repay you…”

„Your presence is enough.”

Suddenly you are grateful that there are few lanterns in the parking lot, so there is a possibility that he does not see how you turn into a tomato. Surely not only your cheeks are turning red, but all your face is. Only Gavin can embarrass you with just one oh-so-casually spoken sentence. Somehow you love it.

The silence that prevails in the car is comfortable. After hours of talking, your unclosing mouth and his irreplaceable reactions, this tranquility disturbed only by quietly playing the rhythmic melody of the radio is calming and pleasant.

You are too lost in admiring the ever-energetic city - neon lights creating beautiful combinations, interactive billboards enlivening gray streets, colorful shop windows - to see Gavin's furtive glances toward you. And somehow, every time you look at him, his eyes are focused on the road, and there is not a single trace after he studied your interested in the outside world face just a second ago. What you can't see is his one hand slightly stronger clamped on the steering wheel, the heart beating unexpectedly fast in his chest and the other hand sweating on his lap. He says to himself to get it together but it's Sisyphean work at this point.

„Stargazing?” Your question is quiet, rather spoken to yourself, but he catches it anyway and looks at you with a shy smile as if confirming. He’s turning the car into the forest, right after leaving the city’s borders, where the road gets much less solid. You recognize this route because you and Gavin have been here many times before.

After stopping the vehicle on the highest hill, as usual, Gavin grabs your hand - silently praying that you will not notice that it is slightly more sweaty than normal - and you moderately hug his firm body so that the wind can lift you two up. There is something so familiar about it that when an officer asks you if you are ready, you automatically answer „yes" without any hesitation or fear.

The first thing you look for when the warm gust of wind swirls around your legs and lifts you in the air is the well-known Jupiter, but when you don't see the point glistening near the moon, you frown. Gavin chuckles and his warm breath hits the side of your head.

„It is a bit late to see Jupiter. It is best seen in May.”

„Oh.”

„But you can see Mercury here.” He turns you one hundred and eighty degrees and bends slightly so that you have a better view from above his shoulder. „Right above these high trees.”

„That bright spot between two stars?”

„Yes.”

It's amazing how many stars are reflected in your eyes as you look around the sky. There is something magical about it, because Gavin is not sure if maybe your eyes are always so shiny and during stargazing, when he holds you close, he is just able to see that better. You gently fidget in his arms and point to one of the visible constellations, and the man immediately tells you everything he knows about it. You smile softly, from the bottom of your soul, as you listen to him and that makes his chest swells.

You don't notice that somewhere between explaining you the phases of the moon and showing the next constellation, Gavin moved away from you and your bodies are connected only by your clasped hands. He's testing something he has been thinking of for a long time, so a triumphant smile does not leave his lips when he manages to hold you in the wind without supporting you with his body. All he has to do is take his hand away to complete the experiment.

„Gavin!” You squint when suddenly the warmth of his body is absent and the only thing you feel is light breeze surrounding your frame. You reach for him instinctively, but he only moves farther away smiling.

Gavin would never do anything to hurt you even a little, so you are sure that he is one hundred precent in control and you have nothing to fear, but your legs still start shaking.

„Don’t be afraid.” His voice is carried to you by the wind and it seems to you that he is right next to you, not a few feet away. „I got you. You can move, you won’t fall. I promise.”

He promises.

Of course he does.

At first you turn around not sure if the moves that are too rapid will make him unable to hold you, but when you notice his slightly raised eyebrows and waiting eyes as if challenging you, you start moving much more freely.

You do everything that comes to your mind. Pirouettes, leeks, pseudo-ballet figures. All this time you giggle like a small child, because who would not do that with the literal possibility of flying? Oh, ok, you can think of one particular CEO who would have his famous poker face stuck to his face even in such a situation, but the exception only confirms the rule.

„Look,” You are interrupted by two hands sneakily encircling your waist and warm breath hitting the back of your neck. You lean your back on officer’s muscular chest and look in the direction Gavin's looking. „it’s starting.”

Something beautiful, like in a fairy tale, unravels before your eyes when the first streak of light marks the sky, followed by several others. Each one is slightly different but at the same time all from one family. Some have simple flight trajectories and appear and then disappear as if they were never there, but others fly diagonally and even in spirals and they are especially memorable.

That's why he took you here today. Meteor shower.

It's not even a moment, and instead of levitating you are sitting on the roof of a jeep, on an unfolded blanket - which you have no idea where it came from - with a hand holding Gavin's hand.

„They are called Perseids.” He explains moving closer to you. „Tonight you can see up to several thousand meteors per hour.”

„That many?” You ask not tearing your eyes from the splendid view above the trees.

„There is a sudden increase in activity this year. It happens once every few years.”

„That’s beautiful.” A sigh escapes your lips as you lean closer resting your head on his shoulder.

It seems so natural for Gavin: to hold you close while watching such an extraordinary phenomenon. He can experience something so astonishing with the most important person in his life and he is sure he wouldn’t have it any other way. No one else could arouse such emotions in him, with no one else he could feel so safe and calm.

„Thank you for showing me this.” This time you look at him with a small smile plastered to your lips and slightly rosy cheeks. He wants to tell you how lovely you look now, but he bites his tongue and instead just smiles back.

„You’re welcome.” He answers, but you don't turn back to look at the meteor shower. Instead, your gaze is focused on his amber iris and how unusually they’re glistening in the light of the moon and falling rocks. He frowns. „Something’s wrong?”

You don't know why and how, but suddenly there is adrenaline in your veins and you want - no, need - to kiss him. This sudden surge of courage may have something to do with the fact that you were flying a moment ago, and if you could levitate then you should be able to do it too.

Just a little light peck. If he doesn’t want it, he can push you away.

Right?

His lips are surprisingly soft, so you want to kiss him even longer and harder, but you need to refrain when you do not find any reaction on his part. His hand is still squeezing yours and his eyes are watching your every move, but his mouth doesn't move. You clench your lips in a thin line thinking you destroyed the months of your friendship with this one impulsive decision. But the truth is you can no longer play with him in meetings that look like dates, although they are not at all, giving each other presents without a special occasion and explaining that friends do that and calling each other in the middle of the night, when one of you has a nightmare.

You already want to open your mouth and begin to explain yourself - you are willing to say anything to save the situation - when he grabs your neck and with a power you have never felt from him kisses you passionately.

You drink each other's smells and tastes like thirsty mad-mans you are after so much time playing in the stalks. It is not known which of you is more greedy for the other person, so a lot of time passes before you break away from each other breathing heavily.

„I—”

„I liked it.” He says before you even have the chance to take a deeper breath to calm your beating heart. „We should do it more often.”

You slightly arch your brows at what he said but then seeing his innocent and gleeful expression you giggle. To be honest, Gavin is everything you want in a partner: he is good, patient, kind, just and loving - at least towards you - and sometimes you felt like you didn’t deserve him as friend let alone as a lover. But as you look at him being so happy because of just a kiss, you want to hug him and never let him go.

„Yeah, I agree.” You give him another peck on the lips and he hugs you to his chest. Both your heartbeats harmonize and everything suddenly falls in its place.

You stay in this position until orange smudges appear on the horizon heralding the arrival of the next morning. The night gray disappears so that the vibrant colors of the day take their rightful place alongside the sun. Normally Gavin would complain, grunt under his breath about the unbearable light of the next day. His preferred cold goes into oblivion for the next several hours and he again has to face the hardships of everyday life.

But now, somehow, instead of frowning at the rising sun, the smile does not leave his face. Maybe it's because of the warmth of your body, or maybe because he still feels your sweet taste on his tongue.

Maybe it's your presence that makes the days not so bad.

Maybe, just maybe, dusk won't be his favorite time of day anymore, but dawn.

Dawn spent by your side.

____________________________________________________

thank you so much for reading!

if you want to read more of my works they are here

#mlqc #mlqc gavin #mlqc bai qi #mlqc fluff #mr love queen's choice #mr love #mlqc victor #mlqc kiro #mlqc lucien #mldd

52 notes · View notes

spnfanficpond · 4 years

Text

January Angel Fish Awards

Every month all of you fantastic writers work your asses off to post some truly incredible stories. Our Angel Fish Awards are the way for all of us, as a community of writers and readers, to lift each other up and give praise to those who have captured our attention and deserve a few kind words.

The monthly Angel Fish Awards are peer-nominated, meaning ANYONE IN THE POND CAN NOMINATE ANY POND MEMBER’S FIC. While the Pond was founded to support the Guppies, everyone in this community deserves to be showered with love and feedback, and we hope that by opening this up as a Pond wide system, we’ll be able to share the love as far as it can go.

NOTE: WE’VE BEEN HAVING OCCASIONAL PROBLEMS WITH ASKS GOING MISSING. Please use the Submit button when submitting your nominations and make sure you’re signed into Tumblr or your URL won’t show. (If the form asks for your name and email address, then you’re not signed in.) If you like, you can also send a message to Michelle or Mana to check and make sure we got your submission.

WITHOUT FURTHER ADO, HERE ARE THE FIRST ANGEL FISH AWARDS OF 2020!

Cabin Fever (a long oneshot) by @slytherkins was nominated three times!

I said all of this in my reblog, but this is FUCKING GOLD. It depicts life with chronic pain so beautifully, I read most of this with my heart in my throat. Have tissues, heed the warnings, but definitely read this! - @mrswhozeewhatsis

Tara is the Queen of Angst. She never fails to break my heart but this fic was something else entirely. I always feel like her stories could be canon and this is no exception!! Dean was exactly how I imagine he would be, Sam too. Without giving any spoilers: the scene setting - I was there, I could see them preparing dinner, sat around the table eating, I felt the coldness of the snow.

The raw emotions were sublime, I cried with Dean. I felt I could feel his pain, I was with him every step of the way, I felt his desperation. Love. Love. Love. Love. Love. Love. Love. - @princessmisery666

O. M. G. I don’t expect anything less than incredible when I read Tara’s stuff, but this is on another level. The angst is painful (literally, sometimes), the detail is exquisite. She put heart and soul into this, and it shows. And as always, her Dean is spot-tf-on. Tara’s a brilliant writer, and this fic is amazing. ❤❤❤ - @risingphoenix761

Nominated by @manawhaat

Satin (oneshot) by @wingedcatninja

This fic has some out of the box, vulnerable, sexy, surprising Dean feels! I went into it expecting one thing and what I got was so different from what I could have imagined, but it was so wonderful and refreshing to read!

Next Year (series) by @wingedcatninja

Holy crap, the intensity and control in this fic is astounding. It’s so palpable from start to end and this is only the first fucking part. Seriously stellar and surprisingly reverential.

Nominated by @mrswhozeewhatsis

For Better or Worst (ongoing series) by @stunudo

There’s so much mystery and intrigue in this series and I just can’t stop wondering how it’s all going to work out! Sam made some kind of deal to save the world and the deal involved marrying this woman and getting out of hunting. But what was the deal, exactly? And where’s Dean? And who is this woman? What about Cas and Jack? I’m so freaking hooked and I can’t wait to find out!!

Nominated by @princessmisery666

Love You To Death (series) by @negans-lucille-tblr

I’ll be the first to admit I’m not into AU’s but this had me hooked from the beginning. I hate Y/N, I hope she gets whats coming to her, but I also so desperately want to be her, which is a testament to the wonderful writing of both Lisa and Bee. I can’t wait to see how this one unfolds.

These two together are a force to be reckoned with.

Nominated by @deanwinchesterswitch

One And One Make Three (series) by @supernatural-jackles

This series was absolutely stunning, beautifully written, and an amazing rollercoaster of emotion. Jen handled some very sensitive subject matters with grace and wit. It has ALL the feels; I cried, laughed, and loved right along with the characters.

Nominated by @flamencodiva

Skeptics and True Believers (series) by @d-s-winchester

I love this story! It had me on the edge of my seat when I read through the master list. the way she wove the story together made me happy for the ending to the story!

Good Things (series) by @crashdevlin

This is Part one to four parts of writing GOLD! Cassie knows how to completely put you in the story and envision what is happening.

How Do You Spell Forever? (series) by @kittenofdoomage

This is part one of a four parter and OMG! Can I say that this is sweet and cute and full of A/B/O goodness? because this is! and it should be read and shared!

Nominated by @girl-with-a-fandom-fettish

Heathens (series) by @pink1031

Why: I have been 1000000% hooked on this story since the first chapter was published. It’s a little bit twisted, a little bit wrong, a whole lot dirty, and a whole lot of amazing writing! At the time of this submission, the last chapter is in progress (don’t get me started on the fact that it’s ending D:). It is without a doubt, one of the few stories I stop what I am doing (life permitting) and read the new chapter when I get notified. READ THE WARNINGS CAREFULLY THOUGH, this is not a story for the faint of heart or those that get squicked out (is that even a term?). But if you like dark and dirty, this fic will absolutely be your jam.

Nominated by @risingphoenix761

My Home (oneshot) by @kittenofdoomage

Short and sweet, but it got me all choked up. To repeat what I said in tags, bless this fic and the hands that typed it.

Feels Like The First Time (oneshot) by @stusbunker

This gets better every time I reread it. Sweet and sexy and kinda touching. Any time I need a Samwitch fix, I come back to this one. ❤

Nominated by @lovetusk ( @fictionalabyss )

Turning Into Butter (oneshot) by @thing-you-do-with-that-thing

Lets be honest with this one, shall we? We’d ALL get that distracted by a half naked Dean.

Please Don’t Go (oneshot) by @sorenmarie87

Dawn tested out her Angsting abilities in this Adam x Reader fic, and I’m hoping we get to see more of it. Like why is Dean so angry? I NEED TO KNOW!

Someone You Loved (oneshot) by @ne-gans

So glad ne-gans is now part of the pond because now I can nominate this beautiful thing that made me cry.

Nominated by @impala-dreamer

Stupor (oneshot) by @dontshootmespence

The hottest hot to ever hot in the hottest way possible - SOULLESS!DOM!SAM!! I ded. Very hot. Much smut. Very good.

Hurt So Good (oneshot) by @alleiradayne

This was tasty. Pun intended. I have such a biting thing and Sam would be so amazing. Yes. Devour me, Winchester!! Loved it.

Nominated by @thegirlwhorunswithwinchesters

Isn’t That My Line (oneshot) by @princessmisery666

I went into this one intrigued by the concept and I got even more than I was hoping for. A little twist I didn’t expect here, a perfect ending there. Amazing.

Control And Release (series) by @thecleverdame

I just needed to bring this one back. Started rereading the entire series and it’s still as amazing as the first time I read this masterpiece.

Photographs and Gasoline (oneshot) by @ne-gans

Always gotta check the new pond member list when I’m making my rounds. Found this fic and fell in love. It’s absolutely heartbreaking but I loved every second of it. Guess if I have to torture myself, I prefer to do it with beautiful writing like this.

Nominated by @thoughtslikeaminefield

Smokes and Sex Toys (oneshot) by @wayward-and-worn

This is delightfully fucking filthy. But that’s not all; Dean’s characterization is SO DEAN - flirty yet straightforward - it reminded me of the scene with the bartender in Defending Your Life, I love the simple yet creative premise, and I adore that it’s left open-ended.

Sick Day - @fangirlxwritesx67

Viv wrote this for me - it’s true - but that isn’t the reason I’m nominating this; it’s because this is so warm and comfortable and just feels like Dean. Like I actually felt like I was in his lap while I feel asleep reading this. (Also, check out my girl’s other works. She’s fairly new but balls to the wall and bursting with ideas and words for just about anyone.)

Nominated by @slytherkins

Isn’t That My Line (oneshot) by @princessmisery666

Short. Sinful. Sexy. It’s like a smutty snack that hits the spot. (And so does Dean.)

Nominated by @kittenofdoomage

What Goes Bump In The Night (series) by @saxxxology

A phenomenal series, historic and dark, with all the fantastic detail you’d expect from Saxxy and more! Please heed the warnings though!

The World Doesn’t Know (oneshot) by @negans-lucille-tblr

A wonderful little smutty J2 fic, for those who enjoy that fantasy.

Marked (series) by @there-must-be-a-lock

I’ve only read the first chapter so far, but hot damn! This is a spectacular start to a promisingly dark series. AND The Right Spot - a smutty smutty follow up to another oneshot that literally made me sweat.

Just Like A Pill by @princessmisery666

The angsty sequel to In Spite Of What My Heart Says and you should totally read both parts, just keep tissues by you in case of heartbreak!

Nominated by @focusonspn

House Of The Rising Sun (series) by @kittenofdoomage

I’ve never liked BDSM themes too much but, OH MY GOOD!! This series is AMAZING!! It even has a sequel: The Ones You Love. Go and read it, you won’t regret it.

Yes, Sir (series) by @evansrogerskitten

Ash must be tired of me praising this fic but I can’t help myself, it’s one of my favorite series ever and deserves this recognition. This is a series that every John girl out there should be reading RIGHT NOW. It has everything! Smut, fluff and a tiny bit of angst and drama.

Good Vibrations (series) by @impala-dreamer

At first I wasn’t sure if I should bring this fic here because all the drama I heard it existed about it but, then I thought it twice, and I came to the conclusion that this fic definitely deserve to be part of these awards. This piece of writing was the first (after Dear John, I have to admit) that actually made me cry. It’s dark, it’s sad as fuck, it’s damn well written, and makes you easily get inside the characters and feel what they’re feeling. That being said, if you’re thinking of reading it, please HEED THE WARNINGS.

Take a Drunk Girl Home (oneshot) by @amanda-teaches

This fic is so beautiful and so well written that I promise you even can end up tearing up a little, but it’s so worth it that you won’t care a bit.

Nominated by @emilyshurley

His Property (series) by @negans-lucille-tblr

I freaking love this series to the point that i binged the series (and it’s sequel, Yours) in a single day.

Just Me & My Baby (oneshot) by @deanwinchesterswitch

Can’t get over how adorable it is.

Guns and Ribbons (series) by @myinconnelly1

What can I say Dean Winchester deserves all the love in this world and so does this series.

I Can See Clearly Now (oneshot) by @katehuntington

I can’t. I don’t have words. This is perfection.

In the Heat of the Night (series) by @evansrogerskitten

Nominated by @impalaimagining

Goals (oneshot) by @atc74

Okay. It's been a long time since I've found Sam smut that really gets me into it. This though - it's a whole different level of wonderful. I love the way it explores a woman finding and embracing her own sexuality, and the frustration that can come along with it. It's obvious how much effort and research and actual planning went into this. My favorite kinds of fics are those that draw from real life experiences, which I think it what makes this one so special. And the end? Yes please!

Nominated by @fangirlxwritesx67

Everything (series) by @there-must-be-a-lock

I can’t even talk about how great this J2 x reader series is without incoherent fangirl flailing. It’s wildly creative, sharply well written, and absolutely panty-melting filthy! And then just when you’re so hot and bothered that you can’t see straight, *boom*, it’s sweet and intimate and loving. I don’t think there’s a series out there I’ve read this many times!

Hark and Hush by @thoughtslikeaminefield

This is a luscious, dark and twisted fairy tale about Dean and the spirit of the Big Bad Wolf. It’s written so vividly that you can see and smell and taste the whole story. Sexy af, of course, and so intense- take the warnings seriously!

The Kind of Girl You Like (series) by @thoughtslikeaminefield

To me, MJ will always be the Queen of the Winchester threesome and this series shows exactly why. Smoking hot story about the brothers sharing a sub that quickly unfolds into something complex and beautiful. The last chapter especially is written with so much emotional depth- the first time I read it, I was swearing and crying and smiling all at once because it was so well done! Just the best!

Nominated by @supersassyprobablysad

How You & I Will Be (series) by @katehuntington

Hey so I wanted to do an angel fish award nom for Kate for her How You & I Will Be fic. In 5 parts she not only developed believable characters but by the end I was ugly crying (and I don’t cry a lot so that’s saying something). The ending feels totally necessary too, not like it was just done for shock value. Anyway I love it, it’s the best I’ve read in a long time.

Thank you all for the awesome work and great feedback!

As with the BFAs, these are not actual awards! This system is set up so everyone in the pond has a chance to share the love and promote a fic/author that has grabbed your attention. The more people that participate, and the more everyone remembers to submit their own fics after posting, the better this will be :D

THANK YOU ALL AGAIN, KEEP UP THE AMAZING WORK, AND AS ALWAYS, HAPPY WRITING!

#afa masterlist #angel fish awards #spnfanficpond #spn fic rec #spn fanfic #fan fiction #fanfiction #fan fic #fanfic #spn fan fiction #spn fanfiction #supernatural fan fiction #supernatural fan fic #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fanfic #fic rec #supernatural fic rec #spn fan fic

80 notes · View notes

cheshiresense · 5 years

Note

Ok so, I was reading and super enjoying your hunger!verse Tsuna thingy and I was forced afterword to go seek out more arcobaleno fic (FORCED. Pshhh). Annnnyway I did and now I'm desperately curious if we'll be seeing more of it? Maybe the first time Fon sees Tsuna eat? Will we ever find out how hard Lal Mirch smacks the Sawada Idiot? Where is Skull in all this? So curious! Anyway! Love your fic! Even when you're dragging me kicking and screaming into new fandoms:D

I’m not getting any Skull-writing-motivation atm, and Iemitsu is always a headache to write, even when he’s getting rightfully smacked. So I’ll just do a very short blurb of Fon&Tsuna interactions.

OMFG TUMBLR WHY DID YOU GET RID OF HORIZONTAL LINES-

Pinglist: @yoshifics @bewarethemandragora @runeofluna @selenedreamwalker @hypnos28 @verticallychallengedintrovert @fandommaniac2401 @lovingempress @cynthia-of-the-wallflowers @shadowsofmoonracer @pairp @warriorofbooks @charlottedabookworm @lyra689 @sheyrenawyrsabane @sora-the-empress @xadriannax @yumeniai @arrysa @lirial89-fanfiction @skysong246 @caiahat @grimreaper19 @arosethornbyanyothername @mtkiseki @kaminoko-x @nesskyru @tatarako @parklena42 @zibeth-a @aerdnanocte @timegrenades @healingmichiko @shiko-rae @soraofmelody @fandoms-make-the-world-go-round @north-peach @yannilicious @wolfsrainrules @franticchanges @tremendouslyminiaturequeen @nesomoxian @snowspine @helix-security @ciesste @skyrel @ebilangel @redshino @fabulous-as-fcuk @anaissesteighart @raz-ia @13oddballbooks @scribesynnox @alyss-spazz-penedo @shwamu @haikyuumon @rivertoforever @satanic-yogurt @darkened-flame

-0-

The first time Fon witnesses it, he’s torn between a morbid sort of fascination and a revolted sense of trepidation.

“You don’t have to be here,” Tsuna tells him, not for the first time, as Viper goes to check them in and Reborn leaves to make sure there’s no one with so much as an unpaid parking ticket to their name within five miles of the hotel they’ll be staying in.

It still surprises Fon, a little, even after two months in their company, which is actually one month more than they’ve ever willingly spent with each other. But even back before they realized the kind of woman Luce really was, not even Reborn was as protective of her as he is of Tsuna. Or maybe it’s just a different kind of protective. Where there was always a respectful distance between themselves and Luce, no matter how kindly she treated them, there’s none of that between Reborn - and Viper - and Tsuna.

That’s not to say they don’t respect him of course– in a rare moment of quiet honesty when Tsuna had fallen ill - again - with a mild fever, Viper had confessed to Fon that their new Sky was a kind of strong that still utterly baffled them as much as it was worthy of their admiration as well. And Reborn hadn’t slept a wink until Tsuna got better.

But Tsuna lets them close in a way Luce never could’ve, guards their health and wellbeing in a way Luce never had, and in return, it’s easy to see how Reborn and Viper consider him beloved and friend and Sky and boss, in exactly that order too.

Devotion. That was what they lacked when it came to Luce. That was what Luce could never quite earn from them, even before they learned the terrible truth, even from Reborn. She had gathered them and charmed them and earned their trust, but she had never been able to inspire the steadfast instinctual dedication that both Reborn and Viper show Tsuna these days, so in tune with the boy that even the way they move somehow seems in tune with each other, like… well, exactly like elements woven in with their sky.

And maybe that’s why Fon assures, also not for the first time, “I understand, Tsunayoshi-kun, but so long as you do not object, I would like to stay.”

He’s self-aware enough to know where this is going, that it’s only a matter of time for him too– one of these days, he’ll have enough courage to offer his own Flames as well, it’s on the tip of his tongue already, and even the echo of remembered agony and instinctual fear isn’t going to stop him.

And considering it’s only been a little over two months since he first met Tsunayoshi, well, even Luce hadn’t tamed them all as quickly.

(Fon worries about that sometimes. It’s not natural, is it? To care about someone so fiercely, so fast. But it actually helps that Tsunayoshi’s fought him just about every step of the way; he’s a Sky who so obviously cares, and so even if it makes Fon a little uneasy, he’s also equally determined to return that care. He can’t be a Storm to a Sky - doesn’t deserve to be a Storm to a Sky, especially this Sky - if the bond between them doesn’t go both ways.)

It’s… not as terrible as Fon thought it would be, once they’re shut away in the top-floor suite and Tsuna’s lips are dyed with yellow and indigo. He looks healthier in this moment than Fon has ever seen him, cheeks less hollow, bones less brittle, skin flushed with a healthier colour. Fon pays close attention to the entire process despite some part of him screaming at him to back out of the room, and so he also notices the way neither Reborn nor Viper show any signs of hesitation or pain when they draw out their own Flames and feed them to Tsuna.

“You should eat a bit more,” Viper huffs, shoving more indigo fire at their Sky when he tries to protest. “If you insist on going days without a proper meal, at least eat your fill when we do this.”

Reborn just stares Tsuna down until the boy sighs and accepts more of the handfuls of Flames the hitman is holding out.

Later, when it’s Fon’s turn to walk Tsuna to school (they’ve worked out a schedule, just to give each of them a bit of time alone with their Sky, although it took almost two months before Reborn and Viper - with Tsuna insisting - grudgingly agreed to add Fon to the rotation), he remarks, “It does not seem to hurt them, or otherwise affect them negatively.”

Tsuna doesn’t bother playing dumb. Everything about him droops for a moment instead. “…Maybe not. I mean it definitely did at first, and I don’t know if it’s just because they’ve gotten used to it, they said it wasn’t that and I don’t think they were lying to make me feel better but…”

He shakes his head and glances away, and for a moment, it doesn’t seem like he’ll continue his train of thought. But Fon waits patiently and is rewarded a few minutes later by a near-inaudible, “I just don’t like it. They’re literally sustaining me with their souls. And all I do is… take that from them. But what do I give them?”

Ah. So that’s the crux of the problem.

Well, Fon supposes it’s not so much of a surprise, for this boy. It’s a good thing then, that Fon knows the answer already.

“You give them a home,” He says, steadily, honestly, and something in his chest floods with a warmth that tethers him to the Sky beside him. Judging by the way Tsuna’s eyes widen and his hand jumps to his chest, Fon’s not the only one who can feel the creation of their bond.

“You give us a home,” He continues. “A place to belong, something to hold us together when we would otherwise be adrift in the world. Perhaps that does not sound especially important to you, but for us who have lived for decades with no one to care about and no one who might care about us, a Sky like you is… everything.”

Tsuna does not reply for a long moment. They’re entering through the school gates when he finally speaks again, and even then, it’s a succinct answer, less question and more dawning realization. “You guys were alone. And lonely.”

Fon smiles wryly and thinks of how even with every alarm bell ringing in his head, he still hopped on the first flight to Japan after hearing about a Sky who might actually be a proper Sky. Thinks too of how Reborn approached first even though he’d arguably been burned worst, and Viper who had long decided that trust was for fools and yet had still so desperately wanted someone to be worthy of their trust.

“We were,” Fon admits in a way he knows Reborn and Viper - even to Tsuna - would be hard-pressed to do. “And sometimes, being alone is the worst thing anyone can experience.”

Tsuna nods a little as he changes his shoes. “Yeah. Yeah it is.”

-0-

After that, Tsuna is still firm about only eating their Flames once every few days, but he eases up on the protests, and when Fon offers his own Flames up the next time, Tsuna grimaces but also nods slowly without arguing. Reborn and Viper both give Fon suspicious side-eyes but since this works in their favour too, neither of them bring it up.

On his part, Fon feels the same instinctual fear swell up inside him, but he looks at Tsuna, his Sky, and his resolve is infinitely stronger. The core of his Storm Flames flare bright and fierce, and when Fon gathers a piece of it and breaks it off from the rest, there is only a brief spark of pain, like a hard pinch, and then he’s breathing easy again, and his hands burn with the wild pulse of his life-fire.

When Tsuna accepts it with reverent hands, and the red twines with Reborn’s yellow and Viper’s indigo as their Sky eats, something in Fon sits back, satisfied, and the newly forged Guardian bond inside him strengthens.

-0-

The very next morning, Fon wakes to a crash and Reborn very uncharacteristically shouting, “What the fuck-”

Fon’s barging into Tsuna’s room with a Viper who hasn’t even remembered to grab their cloak on his heels before it actually registers, and even then, it’s only because - for the first time since he was still a student at his first master’s dojo - he literally trips over his own feet.

He sits up and stares. Viper’s deathly silent behind him, and even Reborn’s fallen quiet from where he’s half-leaning against the nightstand. His hammock is ripped down the middle and hangs limply from the ceiling. Tsuna stares at all three of them from his bed, wide-eyed and stunned.

Fon looks at Reborn, whose ass is on the floor but whose head levels with the bedside table. He twists to look at Viper, who’s forgotten to float and is standing and... now seems to be about Tsuna’s height.

And then he looks down at himself, at hands that are no longer the tiny ones of his toddler self, at longer limbs that feel clumsily awkward and a heavier body that takes up more space than he’s used to. He’s nowhere near the size of his adult self, but he’s definitely now almost three times the size he was when he went to bed last night.

Reborn had the right of it.

What the fuck.

#khr #myscrap #hunger verse #fon #sawada tsunayoshi #reborn #viper #headcanon

809 notes · View notes

shima-draws · 5 years

Note

Oh my gosh okay-I hope this doesn't sound weird but would you be willing to write a BNHA drabble about your college AU? Maybe something with Todoroki and Deku and All Might together? I love your AU and would love to see you write more about it!!

[[Send me a fandom/ship/prompt and I’ll write a drabble for it!]]

!!! I WAS SO HAPPY TO GET THIS ASK OH MY GOD?? I love doing stuff for my College AU…thank you for sending this in!

Anyway I got carried away (no surprise there, lmao) so this ended up being. Over 2k words. NOT MY INTENTION BUT I HAD FUN SO THAT’S ALL THAT MATTERS ANYWAY RIGHT

For anyone reading who doesn’t know anything about my College AU, I provided lots of background info in the fic anyway just in case? So it should work as a standalone oneshot without any prior context? But if you want the majority of the AUs details, you can check that out here c:

Anyway. Toshi and Izuku literally act like they’ve been father and son all their lives, Shouto thirsts, and there’s brief mentions of plane engines involved. Fun stuff.

ENJOY FAM!!

——————————————————–

“I’m not sure about this, Midoriya.”

They stand outside of the hangar entrance, the afternoon sun beating down on them. Summer hasn’t entirely left yet, the air still thick with heat. Shouto puffs out a breath and wipes the sweat off his forehead—from being hot or being nervous, he isn’t sure.

“Oh, come on,” Midoriya, gorgeous, perfect, endlessly kind Midoriya, nudges him in his side. “I’ve been wanting you to come here for a while and now you finally got the chance to since your afternoon class got cancelled! And I have clearance. So it’ll be fine!”

Shouto doesn’t really know of any other military hangars that sit on the edge of a college campus like this one does, so he knows it’s a pretty unique setup. A lot of people take classes here despite the intimidating black gate around the building and the numerous warning signs plastered to the structure. The students into aeronautics really do have it lucky. And so does Midoriya—currently an aerospace engineering major. He has access to the building, and has been pestering Shouto for weeks to come see the kinds of things he gets up to. Especially since he’s also a teacher assistant for one of the professors. And this particular professor is extremely well-known both within his field and outside of it.

Upon hearing Shouto’s quiet admittance of admiration for said professor, Midoriya immediately decided it would be a good idea to introduce them. In person.

Shouto’s really tempted to turn back around and head back to his dorm, even though he knows Bakugou is probably there right now doing unspeakable things to Kirishima—having to sit through that more than awkward situation sounds better than possibly passing out from meeting someone so unbelievably famous.

But Midoriya, with his lovely smile and bright green eyes and perfect everything, grabs Shouto’s hand and ushers him along, which promptly shuts up every bad thought he’s having. He is more than okay with this. Totally not about to trip over his own feet or anything. Are his hands sweaty? God, they probably are, it’s already sweltering outside, and Midoriya’s hand is strong and callused, most likely from all the engineering work he does, and Shouto’s hand is probably all gross from constantly plucking on guitar strings and gracelessly hitting piano keys and tapping away on his laptop while he fiddles with his composing programs, and—

Midoriya scans his student ID and the automatic doors open with a soft hiss, cutting off all train of thought. Shouto idly notices the green-haired boy still hasn’t let go of his hand, and refuses to comment on it. Let him enjoy this.

They travel down a series of twisting and turning hallways. All the people that pass through raise their hands in greeting to Midoriya, who energetically says hello every time. They all seem to know him, and seem genuinely happy to see him—like he’s someone important, someone worth going out of their way to say hi to. Shouto’s secretly glad that Midoriya gets such good attention from these people. He definitely deserves it.

They finally reach a very plain-looking and unassuming door. Midoriya releases Shouto’s hand (much to his disappointment—and he’s almost tempted to try holding it again) to unlock the door with his card.

When they stroll in, Shouto takes a second to look around. They seem to be in a workroom of sorts—blueprints and papers are scattered all about, as well as several complicated looking mechanical parts, tools, and larger machinery. Midoriya hums, a thoughtful frown crossing his features.

“That’s weird. I’m sure he’s on break right now…maybe he’s in the workshop?”

A resounding clang echoing from the doorway at the far side of the room is their answer.

Midoriya brightens like the sun, and Shouto thinks his smile is almost blinding in its intensity.

“Toshi!” He cries out, happily, and scampers into the next room. Shouto follows him at a slower pace, apprehension sinking into his nerves. He’s mere steps away from meeting Toshinori Yagi, All Might—one of the most famous war heroes in their country’s history, not to mention the man his father has a personal vendetta against—and Midoriya is on a first name basis with him. A nickname basis with him. That’s—that’s fine. It’s fine.

The last thing Shouto expects to see when he steps into the workshop is a tall, spindly looking man who is all bones and no muscle halfway buried under a plane engine. Huh.

Midoriya bounces on his heels. His grin is contagious, because Shouto feels his own lips quirking up at the corners. He looks like an oversized puppy.

Hearing them come in, the man underneath the engine propels himself out on a small rolling platform. He’s covered in dirt and grime, his shirt sleeves rolled up to the creases of his elbows. He looks gaunt—cheekbones sunken in, eyes dull and skin alabaster pale. Upon seeing Midoriya, though, his whole entire face lights up—and it’s like the green-haired boy’s presence is breathing life into his very frame, because he suddenly looks more vigorous than ever.

“Izuku, my boy!” He says with a wide grin, practically beaming. The pure delight at seeing Midoriya seems to radiate off of him. Shouto blinks in shock.

This is All Might?

Shouto had seen tons of pictures and online articles about him after the plane crash that had destroyed his body and therefore ruined his career, but witnessing him in person is definitely different. He’d gone from being an almost superpowered pilot to a sad, miserable shell of himself—but despite all that, he’s still working with planes and engines as he used to, just no longer out in the field. The fact that he’d gone from being a well-respected and admired military hero to a, well, still well-respected and admired professor of all things is a bit of a shock. (Then again, Midoriya had mentioned offhandedly that All Might always had a soft spot for mentoring and training others. It sort of makes sense that this is the direction he’d go with his career after being forbidden from being put back on active duty ever again.)

“Hey, Toshi!” Midoriya greets like it’s the most normal thing in the world to walk in on a legendary icon casually fixing a piece of complicated mechanic equipment. Shouto thinks his head is going to explode.

“Help me up, would you, my boy?” All Might asks, and Midoriya is at his side within seconds, easily pulling him to his feet. (Shouto pretends he isn’t openly watching the muscles in his arms flex with the movement.)

Once they’re all straightened out, All Might gratefully ruffles Midoriya’s hair, who giggles in delight. Shouto is in absolute disbelief when the blonde man loops an arm around Midoriya’s shoulder and pulls him into a side hug, which the boy melts into easily, naturally, like this is a common occurrence. They’re the picture of absolute camaraderie and Shouto feels like he’s going to drown under the mountain of questions he has about this predicament. Midoriya’s told him plenty of stories about how All Might had plucked him out of a sea of endless eager faces desperate to please and had given him the means to chase his dreams—but he hadn’t mentioned much about why they’re so close, or how they moved past the mentor-protégé stage and into the realm of actual friendship. Or…family, it seems now, because with the way they’re playfully nudging each other it really looks like they could be father and son.

After the two of them finally settle down, All Might’s gaze travels over to land on Shouto—and a shocked look makes the very vibrant blue of his eyes stand out even more.

“Oh! Um,” Midoriya dances on his feet for a second before rushing over to Shouto and gently guiding him forward, fingers grasping the crook of his elbow.

“This is Todoroki-kun! The, uh, the friend that I told you about before!”

Understanding dawns on All Might’s face, along with a strange knowing look that twinkles in his eyes.

“Oh, yes,” he chuckles, putting his hands on his hips. Despite looking somewhat like a walking talking skeleton, the way he holds himself is confident, yet friendly. Shouto’s starting to see how he ended up in a professor position. “I’ve heard plenty of good things about you from Izuku, young Todoroki.”

Shouto’s mouth drops open in surprise, and he feels his cheeks become warm. Midoriya’s talked about him? To All Might? And—and he’d told him good things?

“Toshi!” Midoriya squeaks, his arms flailing about. It’s a nervous habit Shouto’s picked up on throughout the course of their friendship.

All Might leans back and laughs, a full, deep-sounding one from his belly. And even though he’s not even close to looking like he once did in his prime, Shouto can practically feel the raw power emanating from that laugh.

Midoriya is pouting, but it’s half-hearted at best. If Shouto had more guts he’d start to consider taking that lower lip between his and kissing the boy silly, but again, he’s nowhere near ballsy enough. Bakugou wouldn’t hesitate at all but Shouto has standards, thank you very much.

His attention is drawn back to All Might when the man steps forward and offers a hand.

“I’m glad to officially meet the boy my favorite student talks about so much,” All Might says with a wide grin. Midoriya sputters but Shouto smiles, feeling a bit warm on the inside.

He definitely had his doubts before, but now he’s absolutely certain. Whatever relationship All Might and Midoriya have, it’s special, important, and he can tell just by looking at the older man that he absolutely treasures Midoriya, just like Shouto does. Good. All Might has very good taste. Not that he’s entirely surprised. Midoriya is a literal ray of sunshine and anyone who thinks otherwise is either completely blind or a massive idiot. (I’m looking at you, Bakugou.)

“It’s an honor to meet you, All Might,” Shouto says, honestly, taking the blonde’s outstretched hand.

All Might startled at that, blinking a few times. Then, he chuckles, shaking Shouto’s hand vigorously.

“Please, please, no need for formalities! Besides, I haven’t gone by that codename in years. Call me Toshinori, okay?” He says, smiling kindly.

Shouto exhales when All M—Toshinori releases his hand. (God, thats gonna take getting used to.) “Oh…sure.”

Midoriya bounces back over to his side, his posture eager in its tension. “Toshi, did you see the blueprints I left for you yesterday? I wanted to double check and make sure I did all my calculations correctly…”

Toshinori hums thoughtfully for a moment, and then he nods in recollection. “Oh, yes, yes! That’s right. You did wonderfully on them, my dear boy. I think this next assignment is going to be the perfect amount of challenging for my class.”

Midoriya lights up like a goddamn Christmas tree, and Shouto’s having a very hard time not laughing at how thoroughly pleased he looks. He didn’t realize how much Midoriya appreciates Toshinori’s praise, but he guesses it’s a bit obvious why.

“If we apply what you drew out to the most current version of the engine…ah, let me see…where did I put those blueprints…?”

“You two are pretty close,” Shouto comments, watching as Toshinori putters about in the shop.

Midoriya blinks at that. “We are?”

Shouto looks at him incredulously. “You’re on a first name basis, you’re more relaxed with him than I’ve ever seen you with anyone else, you hang off of each other like you’ve been friends for years and he calls you “my dear boy”. And you call him “Toshi”. So yeah. That’s the very definition of being close, Midoriya.”

Instead of getting embarrassed like Shouto thinks he will, Midoriya looks down at the floor thoughtfully.

“Yeah,” he says, quietly, after a long stretch of comfortable silence. He glances up at Shouto, beaming. “I guess we are.”

His gaze travels back over to Toshinori, who is now digging through a pile of blueprints.

“He means a lot to me,” Midoriya admits, softly, fondly. “He’s done a lot for me. He’s…one of the most important people in my life.”

Shouto closes his eyes and smiles. He’s glad Midoriya has someone on his side like this, an adult figure who’s willing to be there for him through thick and thin. He knows this goes both ways, too—Midoriya is clearly giving Toshinori all the credit, but what he doesn’t realize is that Shouto’s sure Toshinori believes Midoriya to be irreplaceable as well.

He opens his eyes to see Midoriya gazing at him affectionately, and his heart leaps. Maybe one day he can become this important to Midoriya, too.

——————————————————–

BUT LITTLE DOES SHOUTO KNOW, HE ALREADY IS. IZUKU’S JUST BAD AT SHOWING IT LMAO

At this point in the AU they’re already crushing hard on each other and Izuku has already fallen into a routine with Toshi where he invades his apartment at 3 AM to ramble on about how gay he is for Shouto. So Toshi is VERY well aware of his attachment to him hence his subtle teasing when they’re finally introduced in person lmao

Anyway I hope you enjoyed–I had so much fun writing this!! I love my kids :’D

244 notes · View notes