#i love drawing him with just the same stoic expression. he is a stone cold pillar of ice to me. one that loves his little kitty kittyyyyy | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

wing-ed-thing · 3 years

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Mob Wife (Kakuzu x Reader, ft. Hidan) Part IV

Synopsis: The Akatsuki are in emergency mode. Kakuzu leads Hidan to the only place he knows for sure is safe to regroup.

Word Count:

Warnings/Tags: Violence, Blackmail, Language, Fem!Reader, HouseWife!Reader, Moll!Reader, Attempt at Humor, Ceremonial Drinking of Sake, Traditional Wedding

Part I Part II Part III Part IV Finale

Notes: It’s back. Writing Hidan has got me feeling a certain way rn

It rained on your wedding day: weather fitting for, and not minded by, a criminal and a deserter. As you approached the temple, he tried to tell you many times that you were going to be turned away, but as you spoke to the shrine masters, you were greeted warmly and welcomed. You were young with a warm face that offset Kakuzu’s intimidating exterior. Everyone always loved you right away, a way about you that Kakuzu could never begin to consider replicating. With your open heart, you brought a foreign concept into his world: acceptance. The few priests and priestesses at the temple on the border of the Land of Stone looked upon you kindly, a kindness that you and Kakuzu continued to repay years later. The small village of a few hundred that housed that shrine would never see a shinobi attack. Now, only you continue to repay years later.

You could tell that Kakuzu didn’t like being in the temple in the slightest. He had never been one for religion or structure or ceremonies, so you tried not to laugh the first time you saw him in his montsuki haori hakama. You wondered how much grumbling went into getting Kakuzu in such formal attire with a goofy, lopsided grin. Even as he gazed upon your amused, upturned lips, his infamous temper laid unusually dormant. Kakuzu never thought that he would see his own wedding day. Being the kind of man he was, he never thought that he’d have one. He didn’t think that he deserved it, but for once as you stood in front of him in your shiromuku, all of his jaded thoughts seemed to fade. Of course with you, all doors opened.

Kakuzu knelt next to you at the shrine, ever stoic. He put his hair up before the ceremony and secured it neatly behind his head. You remembered it when it was short. As the priest announced your marriage to the gods, you couldn’t help but glance at Kakuzu out of the corner of your eye. He held himself together better than you imagined he would.

“Well, yes. I am an adult,” he would tell you later.

But at that moment, he received the first sakazuki. The priest's vessel tipped over the small cup two times before pouring. Kakuzu brought the dish up to his lips and took three sips: pointless seeing that neither of you had parents, but traditional nonetheless. You were taught to always honor your ancestors, but you doubted that Kakuzu felt the same. You received your cup and the same sake, taking the same three sips and the ceremony went on. The second sakazuki represented your vow to care for each other. You received a slightly larger cup and once again, you each touched the sake to your lips three times. The third represented fortune and fertility.

The Heavens, the Earth, and the People.

You offered Kakuzu a light smile as you moved to the next part of the ceremony, a gesture to assure him that it was almost over. He would have rolled his eyes in any other setting, but Kakuzu didn’t even have to speak for you to know exactly what he meant. You knew that more than anything, he was happy to be with you. Out of all the things that he had done as a shinobi, he could handle a stuffy ceremony.

“I thought you liked stuffy things,” you teased him later, parts of your robes slung over forearms and shoulders for better mobility as you walked through the gardens. Your hand rested in his as you balanced yourself on some raised, rock ledges. His expression could have easily been mistaken for exasperation as he scoffed, but you knew better. He looked happy. “You’re a shinobi. Now that’s stuffy!”

The priest had you stand and you received a flowering branch to offer to the gods. As you held the sprig in your hand, you glanced at Kakuzu. His eyes met your own and you quietly prayed over your offerings before presenting them together, stem first. You bowed together, the rituals vaguely familiar to you as you performed them.

With the blessings of the gods, you had received your rings. Your thumb ran over the skin of Kakuzu’s hand. They had a familiar gruffness to them and held smooth bumps from old scars. His fingernails were short. You slid the band onto his ring finger. The black suited him. He squeezed the fingers of your other hand. The space behind your eyes stung as you held back tears watching as he placed the ring on your hand.

Neither of you had family, so you thanked the shrine priests and priestesses and enjoyed their hospitality. You took a single picture. It was the same frame that you held in your hands now.

Kakuzu walked out a few hours ago, taking Hidan with him. Your kitchen was, for the most part, wrecked. Your doing. Your tears had since dried up and your trembling was beginning to fade. With a shaky breath, you brought yourself to your feet. You placed the picture face-down on the counter and reached for the broom in the corner. Your heart hurt, but the world continued on. And if the world continued on, so should you.

***

You didn’t want to eat, you didn’t feel hungry, but you stood over the sink anyway biting into whatever you could pull from your fridge. You cleaned up the kitchen to the best of your ability. Trash piled up in neat bins outside: splintered wood, broken plates, and any other particles of dust that you managed to sweep up. You could handle it later. At least the rest of the kitchen was spotless. You glanced down at the thick wedding band that sat in your hand. Twirling it between your fingers, you bit into your bell pepper like an apple. That was the kind of night you were having.

A harsh pounding came from the front door and for a split second you wondered if your husband came back. Ex-husband. You didn’t think so. You kept your eyes on the kitchen window but the pounding continued adamantly. A slight shiver went down the back of your neck. The next farm wasn’t for miles. That was definitely not Kakuzu.

You put down your pepper and rolled out your utensil drawer. Your fingers danced across the kunai strapped to the bottom as you silently hoped that your training hadn’t worn off too horribly. The banging ceased as the doorknob began to rattle. The door swung open and you launched your kunai with immense velocity and precision. It was snatched out of the air.

“Fuck! That hurts like a bitch!”

Hidan stood in the entryway with his hand still held up and wrapped around your weapon. Blood dripped onto your floors as the kunai clattered to the ground. He shook out his palm, now sporting a deep gash. All you could do was stand and blink, wondering why he was there and if Kakuzu was with him. Hidan threw his cloak onto the rack. It slid, hardly staying on as he marched over to you. The door didn’t fit into its frame the same as it did before and there was no sign of Kakuzu.

“Can you patch me up, lady?” He looked around your kitchen for somewhere to sit, but found none. He dripped more onto your floors. You quickly guided his wrist over your sink and looked up at him. Beads of water fell down his face. You didn’t even hear the rain outside.

“What happened?” you asked sternly, your voice cracking a bit with worry. Hidan groaned.

“You fucked up my hand, can you at least fix me? I’m traumatized over here.” You sighed, yanking him forward before turning the running water on over his hand. You held it there for a second as if telling him to keep it there before running off to get your medical kit.

“Hidan, you have to tell me if there is an emergency,” you said as you heaved the box onto the counter from your spare room. You cleaned his palm with soap and disinfectant before applying pressure. While you didn’t have to worry about blood loss with Hidan, you also didn’t want him passing out on your kitchen floor either. That would make one more thing to clean up. “Hidan—” You pulled the gauze extra tight. He didn’t seem to be listening to you. —“Is there an emergency?”

“No, lady, it was just cold as fuck and Kakuzu’s got a stick up his ass that’s worse than usual. But you already know what that’s like.” The atmosphere stood still at the mention of Kakuzu’s name.

You knew that you shouldn’t worry about him. As far as you were concerned, he had just divorced you a few hours ago, and even if he hadn’t, you were certain that he could take care of himself. You apparently didn’t do a great job at masking your worry.

He usually didn’t care about the effect of his words, but as you frowned to yourself, Hidan couldn’t help but consider how sad you looked. He pursed his lips, never one for comforting others. For a split second, he wondered whether or not he should have brought up his partner at all. Two fingers gently bumped the bottom of your chin and you looked up at Hidan.

“Don’t look so down. It doesn’t look good on you.” He hesitated. “He’ll come back.”

You dropped his wrapped hand, not noticing that you’ve been drawing loops around his knuckles with your finger.

“I don’t know. He’s usually pretty certain about things and I can’t dwell on that.” You shook your head, turning the water back on to wash your own hands. “You have to go. I know that you have things to do and my— and Kakuzu won’t like that you’re here.” He pouted as you moved around him. You had blood to clean up.

“But it’s raining…” he pouted, expression falling in your peripheral. “And he’s miserable right now which means I’m miserable. C’mon let me stay, I’m miserable.”

“Hidan.” You turned to him and leaned on the doorway from your kitchen to your small living area. “Your partner doesn’t live here anymore.” You flicked on the entryway light, your bucket in hand. Hidan followed behind you, now taking your spot in the doorframe.

“But that doesn’t mean that I have to leave. You know he’s being stupid, but that doesn’t mean that I need to suffer out in the rain because Kakuzu’s a crotchety, old bastard.” You sighed, resting on the handle of your mop. You shook your head.

“I’m sure by the time you get to town the two of you can find somewhere to stay.”

A silence overtook the house again, full of raging, but unspoken thoughts. You squeezed out the yarns and tended to the floors. It, at the very least, gave you something to do. Hidan’s blood already dried part way and you scrubbed harder, but not before it was snatched out of your grip. Hidan shoved you over to take your place. The backs of your knees hit the armrest of the modest couch that you almost toppled down onto. He took to scrubbing.

“So what happened?” he asked.

“Sorry?” Hidan peered at you with his bright violet irises.

“I’m trying to be nice and ask you about your problems, so you better start chatting before I lose interest.” The mop splashed back into the bucket. “Who else do you get to talk to?” You pursed your lips. You knew that he was biding his time to wait out the rain, but his words weren’t wrong. The hurt still felt fresh and perhaps you were feeling a bit desperate to get it out of your system.

“I’m not sure what happened. I asked, but, well, you know how my… how Kakuzu is.” And you found yourself retelling the entirety of what happened: the argument, the ring, Kakuzu’s misplaced comments about children. You left out the part about the wrecked kitchen. “And then he said something about ‘now letting this happen’ which had to be the last straw for me.”

“Did you want brats?” Hidan had since stopped his cleaning. Surprisingly, he listened intently to your rambling as he propped himself against the wall. You swung your feet back and forth over the side of the couch.

“I never really thought about it before and Kakuzu and I never talked about it, so I don’t know why he brought it up.”

“Because he’s a dumbass who thinks too much. I never know what’s going on in that fucked up head of his. If I had a home to come to like this with a cute little thing in an apron—” Hidan scoffed. —“Fuck the Akatsuki. I wouldn’t be hiding you out here because of some band of losers in capes.” That made you laugh.

“You’re in the Akatsuki,” you giggled and Hidan raised a slender eyebrow.

“So? I’m the best one out of all those guys.”

“The best out of some band of losers?” The corners of Hidan’s lips turned upwards into a brief smile as he rolled his pretty irises.

“Listen, I got my devilish charms going for me which is better than Ragdoll. He looks like a fucking pin cushion.” Your hand came over your mouth as you laughed. Hidan looked down at where you sat, pride swelling in his chest at the prospect of cheering you up. But your face quickly morphed into something sentimental.

“Aw, but he’s a cute pin cushion…” Your bottom lip curled into a pout, but at least you didn’t look quite as sad as before. Hidan leaned a bit forward.

“He’s a little over a hundred-eight centimeters tall and has a big-ass nose.” You let out an amused breath. “I’d hardly consider that ‘cute’.”

“But it’s a cute nose. It’s slender and has that cute little bump in the middle.” Your voice grew quieter. Another silence, the third of Hidan’s visit.

It all felt too confusing for you. Maybe Kakuzu was never that interested in you in the first place. You shook your head then and there, much to Hidan’s confusion. Despite Kakuzu’s attitude towards most everything, you knew that he cared deeply about you. Perhaps he had grown bored. Despite ninja work not being of interest to you, you knew that many found the profession very exciting. You ran many profitable operations in the surrounding area, but more money could be made elsewhere, you knew that much. Your lifespan was nothing compared to Kakuzu’s nearly a century of living. He had done everything in life that he had wanted to do and all you had little to show for your existence.

You kept replaying his words about the time that you had. That you had enough time to do more. But if you really thought about it, you were content living the way you had been. You were happy and for a split second you considered whether or not Kakuzu actually saw himself as worthy of you. You shook your head for the second time. No, if anything, you considered it the other way around. You’d imagine that you would come off as boring and childlike to an immortal.

“That’s a lot of thinking.” Hidan had taken to wandering around the room. You hadn’t noticed. “Fuck thinking. You deserve better than taking care of some place in the middle of nowhere and running numbers on boring-ass shit.” You smiled again to yourself, something else that you didn’t notice.

“I actually like it here,” you mumbled. Hidan yawned.

“Can I stay now?” You deliberated to yourself before grabbing the bucket and the mop away from him. He didn’t do a great job, but you found yourself relatively uncaring at the moment.

“Yes, you can stay,” you sighed. Hidan was already halfway down the hall by the time you finished your sentence.

“Good because I was going to crash here anyway.”

@brokennerdalert @unsatisfiedanddisappointed @krispypotato @meme-queen-1999

Notes: Reader and Kakuzu had a Shinto wedding if anyone’s interested.

Thank you to all who liked, reblogged, followed and otherwise supported. Your support means so much and is greatly appreciated.

#kakuzu x reader #hidan x reader #kakuzu #hidan #Akatsuki x reader #akatsuki #naruto x reader #naruto x y/n #naruto x you #naruto imagines #naruto imagine #naruto scenarios #naruto scenario #naruto headcanon #naruto headcanons #x you #x reader #reader insert

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mycupoffanfiction · 4 years

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Role Model

Happy Lowman x Reader (Platonic)

Summary: Happy loves being a father figure to you, but surprises you when he admits he doesn’t think he’s a good role model.

Warnings: Very slight angst? Mostly just domestic fluff, feelings of insecurity as a parental figure.

Word count: Approx 1000

Masterlist

A/N: Hi loves, I was nervous to put this one up since I wasn’t sure if I had gotten Happy’s characterisation down as well as being my first platonic/familial fic in the SOA/Mayans fandom, but I finally decided to put it up 🤷🏻‍♀️ Anyway, I hope you enjoy 💖

It was midway through the morning and you and Happy were still in the position Juice had found you in earlier when he’d come around looking for his hoodie he’d misplaced in the midst of a party the previous night. Stretched out across a couch, you both lounged around watching cartoons together.

It was common to find the pair of you like this, especially on the weekends and on the mornings after runs and parties. Your relationship with Happy held a strong bond, much like that of a father and daughter would share, though you weren’t related.

The clubhouse was quiet, bar from the television on a low volume. A few of the members were already up and hanging around, hungover or still a bit drunk from the night before, while everyone else continued to sleep in.

Suddenly Happy erupted into laughter, you giggled, Happy’s laughter infectious and you grinned when you looked over to see him with a huge smile on his face. “How many times have you two seen this episode? I swear it’s the only one they air.” Juice asked, being the only other person in the clubhouse who was willing to watch television and not grumble that it was too loud, despite its low volume as they retreated back to their dorm rooms.

Juice had already spent a good deal of the morning with you both when he’d woken up to find you both making pancakes and decided to join in on your morning together.

“It’s hilarious.” Happy countered in a flat tone as he shuffled around on the couch, half laying across it and resting his arms behind his head. “Right,” Juice snorted. “I’ll leave you two to it.” He chuckled as he got up. “Good luck finding your sweater, Juicy.” You smiled up at him, receiving a sweet grin and a soft thanks from Juice before he turned away.

The two of you sat in silence, watching the rest of the episode with Happy bursting into laughter now and again before the cartoon ended and he fell silent again when the commercial break started.

Glancing over at you, Happy seemed blank in expression, but he’d been casting small glances at you all morning and the little twinge in his eyes as he looked you over told you that he was in deep thought about something.

“I know when something’s bothering you, Hap.” You said softly, leaning back against the couch and curling your knees up close to your chest, the Sergeant at Arms grunting as he looked back at the television, feigning interest in the current ad about a disposable mop.

Sighing, you leaned forwards and grabbed the remote, turning the tv off and fell back against the couch, looking him in the eyes. Glaring at you, Happy slowly sat up a bit, resting his back against the arm of the couch. He knew that you were almost as stubborn as he was and along with Gemma, you were one of the few people he feared upsetting or disappointing.

Taking a quick look around the room Happy decided it was okay to talk about it, considering the only other person around was Juice, who was in the far corner, sifting through some random bits of clothing that various party goers had lost throughout the night.

“I’m a shit role model.” He put it bluntly, voice low and harsh as he stared at you, knowing it was going to at least shock you a little bit. “No way, Hap.” You shook your head in immediate disagreement. “But you look up to me. Why?” He asked in a short tone, watching as you leaned your arm on the top of the couch cushion.

The concern and insecurity only stirred in his mind when Clay had made a passing comment that Happy would corrupt the sweet girl that looked up to him and he began to wonder if his decision to take you under his wing was a bad idea. If being your father figure had been a mistake.

“You’ve always taken care of me like I’m your own.” You shrugged, smiling softly at him, watching as he thought about your answer. “That’s because you are.” Happy said after a brief silence, his voice unusually gentle.

“But you shouldn’t look up to me.” He stated, moving to get up off the couch, averting his gaze so he didn’t have to see your reaction. Despite mostly keeping a stoic front, he struggled to do so in front of you. He cared too much about you to be able to hide how he felt properly. You had noticed that about him too, especially when you watched him speak about his mother, a slightly different side to his usual demeanor crept through when he talked about those that he loved.

“But I do.” You replied, quickly sitting up straight and grabbing hold of his hand, your fingers coming up to grasp his wrist to stop him from leaving. “I’m no one good to look up to, kid.” He shook his head, tugging his hand away from you, leaving you alone on the couch. “I think you are.” It came out barely above a whisper, but your words stopped him in his tracks, Happy slowly turning around to look down at you. “I’ve never met anyone I look up to more.” You told him, your voice small as you shyly looked up at him.

Happy stared at you in silence, twirling the toothpick he held between his lips as he took in your admission. Thinking about it now, Happy sighed as he realised that maybe he was wrong to think the way he had. It was unusual for him to worry about his actions, he was usually so unapologetic, but sometimes he felt like he was inadequate to consider himself a father figure to someone, to look after you the way he did. But it occurred to him that no matter what he thought of himself, you still looked up to him and contrary to Clay’s passing comment, you were still the same sweet girl you were when the club had accepted you.

His job might have made some of the others think that he was stone cold and only took joy in the grim things he took part in. But the reality was, he had taken you in, provided you with the comfort of a father figure, guided you in and out of situations when you needed help, been there for all of your accomplishments and had always been a shoulder to lean on when you needed it and he loved it.

“Sorry.” He sighed, walking back to the couch and dropping himself onto it, putting his arm around your shoulders and gently pulling you into a hug. “Never thought anyone would do that.” He said quietly as you hugged him around the waist. “What, look up to you?” You asked against his shoulder. “No.” Happy shook his head, his tone low and blunt. “Never thought anyone would see me as a father.” “But I’m glad you do.” He added quietly.

Pressing a kiss to your forehead, he smiled at you before glancing over at the clock on the wall. “Good, the commercials are over.” He said abruptly, ending the moment and drawing a laugh from you as he grabbed the remote, ready to spend the rest of the morning watching cartoons with you.

Mayans/SOA Taglist (OPEN):

@everyhowlmarksthedead @woahitslucyylu @trulysuccubus @iambabyharry @starrynite7114 @ifoundmyhappythought @peaches007 @angelreyesgirl @thesandbeneathmytoes

Permanent Taglist (OPEN):

@scuzmunkie @scarlett-berserker @megantje123 @sideeffectsofyou @loving-life-my-way @searching-for-neverland @kitkatd7 @psychiccreationtaco @damienwitcher @thesewaywardskies @abbiesthings @marquelapage @noz4a2

#happy lowman x reader #happy x reader #sons of anarchy #happy lowman x you #happy lowman #men of mayhem #platonic fic

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peaxhcringe · 3 years

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Move

pairing: Akaashi x Gn! Reader

genre: fluff, slight angst

warnings: mentions of parent’s divorce

word count: 1.6K

summary: Y/n has to move to America with her parents after their divorce, and this is their last time to say goodbye to Akaashi

A/N: I had this one in my google doc for almost 2 months and is one of the first Akaashi stories I’ve ever wrote, but never finished until now. I hope you enjoy!

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The screams of your parents from the living room flow through the thin walls of the house. Your hands pressing two small pillows tightly against your ears trying your best to drown out the almost routine argument between the two adults downstairs. Over the past few months you’ve gotten used to your new nightly routine of drowning out the noises and getting little to no sleep.

Your parents were currently in the midst of a messy divorce, leaving you in the middle with each of them trying to convince you to stay with them. You weren’t shocked when you found out they decided on the divorce, but the only thing that worried you was that no matter who you’d chose to stay with, you would end up moving to America, and away from what you called home. If all this drama would’ve happened a year earlier you would’ve begged to move, to get away from school and the horrible people here, but no, it all had to happen after you met Akaashi.

You let out a frustrated groan, taking the pillows from your ears and slamming them down onto the bed, one of them falling onto the carpeted floor below. Sitting up, you climb off your bed and walk over to your window, reaching out and placing your hands on the cold white sill. You carefully lift the window up with a small creek before stepping out onto the roof, the siding like ice against your feet as you walk down the roof, sitting towards the edge. You pull your legs up to your chest and place your arms against your knees, letting your head fall and lay against your propped up arms.

With a deep breath, you close your eyes taking in the scent of a coming storm, and the sound of leaves softly blowing in the wind. As you sit there you don’t hear the buzzing or the dinging of texts rushing through your phone, your mind only drifting off to other places.You allow your eyes to close softly, letting the rustling of leaves and the occasional rumbles of thunder in the distance tear your mind away.

Your breathing slows, your body softly luling itself to sleep until two large hands suddenly touch your shoulders. Your eyes shoot open and look down to see two legs appearing next to yours, placing you in between them. One hand moves from your shoulder, before a different weight is placed on it, your body tensing up from the contact.

“Hey, hey, it’s just me” A calm voice says softly against your ear, a chill shooting through your body “It’s okay” The voice assures, noticing how tense your body became

You tilt your head to the side, seeing the deep blue eyes and the stoic expression of your boyfriend, pieces of his black hair softly blowing in the breeze. His head resting on your shoulder as one hand is placed on your arm and the other on your waist. As your eyes take in his appearance you relax against his touch, instinctively leaning back against his chest and resting your head on his shoulder. It’s silent between you as you both take in each other’s company.

For the past couple weeks you both haven’t been able to see each other unless it was the occasional ‘Hello’ in the hallways, due to his relentless volleyball practices and training camps he attended. You understood, knowing that his practices did mean a lot to him, but it just meant the next time you got to see each other would feel amazing.

Your eyes start to close again as you breathe in his smell of coconut and linen mixed with the scent of the cold weather around you. Your body turns to snuggles into his embrace as the wind begins to send goosebumps along your skin. Sleep starts to slowly take over you until Akaashi’s voice pulls it away

“You weren’t answering your phone” He says quietly, his voice vibrating against the side of your neck

“I’m sorry” You apologize, taking one of your hands and placing it against his that was pressed to your waist “I just needed to come out here for minute” You explain, letting your head nuzzle further into his hair

“You can always talk to me about anything” He says, his voice slightly muffled “I’m here” he adds lifting his head off your shoulder, making your body move to sit upright again

Akaashi was always very perceptive, he was like that even before you started dating. He seems to always know how you were feeling or what you were thinking even if you weren’t sure about it. He always knew when you were upset or when something was bugging you, which was a thing you both loved yet hated about him.

Your head turns towards him, taking in his blue eyes. You think to yourself, thinking if you should tell him about your parent’s plan for you. Your heart begins to race, anxiety starting to rush through you as your mind starts to make up scenarios and how things could go, good and bad. You shift your gaze from him, down towards the street, watching as the couple walked hand in hand together while laughing and making new memories together, your heart almost breaking at the sight.

Worry begins to flood your brain, wondering if this would be the last time you got to really sit and be with Akaashi, and wondering if you would be able to see your classmates one last time. You jump slightly when you feel Akaashi’s cold hand place itself on your jaw, turning your head towards him, your eyes meeting.

“What’s wrong?” He asks again, his eyebrows furrowed, noticing at how silent you were

You let your eyes fall from his gaze one last time, carefully taking one of his hands in yours and holding it tightly, letting your thumb softly rub against the back of his thumb.

“I- it’s just- I have to move to America” You say softly, your eyes not meeting his, knowing any tears that haven’t already fallen today will pour out of your eyes “My parents are getting a divorce, and they are both leaving to go to America” You continue, not letting Akaashi speak, a part of you scared to hear what he had to say

When you finish you notice wetness dripping from your face, quickly bringing a hand up and wiping it away, realizing that you had begun to cry. Silence feels the air as you wait anxiously for Akaashi’s response, your heart pounding in your chest.

“When?” He asks, tilting his head down towards you “When would you be leaving?”

You look up at him, your eyes immediately taking in his, noticing how they’ve become glossy, tears brimming them.

“I’m not sure, at the soonest it would be in a couple days” You say, letting your thumb draw soft circles on the back of his hand

Wordlessly, Akaashi pulls you closer, letting one of his arms wrap around your side and pulling you tightly to his chest. His head rests itself in the crook of your neck, letting his warm breath blow against your sensitive skin. Although you were used to the silence between the both of you, this silence felt completely different. It felt as if you were to talk or move, everything would be lost that we might wake up from a dream. You both allow the silence to consume you, your bodies relaxing against one another as your breath in each other's scents.

“What do you think they're doing?” Akaashi asks out of nowhere

Your turn to him, raising an eyebrow before following his gaze to the street. Your eyes follow the different cars zooming by and the people that walk hand in hand or side by side. You catch a glimpse of the same couple you saw earlier, walking slowly next to each other, their hands linked tightly. A smile forms on your face as you lean further into Akaashi, his body warming up the exposed skin of your arms as the wind begins to pick up.

“No idea” You say, a soft laugh following after “What about you?” You ask, tilting your head up towards his, only to meet his blue eyes

You smile at him as you lift a hand to his face, your hand cupping his face lightly, his head leaning into your touch. You watch as your thumb caresses the top of his cheek, a pink tint crossing across his face. Your body leans further into his grip, letting his arm that was placed behind hold you tightly.

“I see my gorgeous girlfriend who,” He begins, leaning forehead and pressing a soft kiss to the side of your mouth “no matter what happens... will always be mine” He speaks, his lips just barely grazing against yours, the tip of his nose brushing past yours

A blush races across your face at his words, your fingertips lightly playing with a few strands of his black hair. Pulling him closer, you press your lips back to his, your eyes closing as you breathe him in. You move in his arm to sit up straighter, his other hand moving to your face and cupping your cheek.

The kiss felt so different than the other hundreds you’ve shared with him. This kiss felt oddly like the last, like a simple wordless goodbye. Although nothing was ever set in stone, especially your situation you both felt the need to share one last intimate moment between the two of you. This kiss was something you both subconsciously needed, you both needed to feel one last real thing between the two of you. The kiss was one last goodbye.

#haikyuu fluff #akaashi fluff #haikyuu #haikyuu imagines #akaashi x reader #akaashi keiji x reader #Akaashi Keji #akaashi haikyuu #haikyuu akaashi #haikyuu angst

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hunterartemisanime · 3 years

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Kuroko Tetsuya: the Mystrey of the Unconventional Sports Protagonist

At the auspicious occasion of Masamune’s birthday, let’s look into the depth of the most unconventional sports anime protagonist of all times: Kuroko Tetsuya.

So what is he? he is cool, calculating and calm guy with heightened morality and equally frightening lack of presence. He has all the makings of a classic serial killer, but he gets cast as a protagonist of a sports anime, a place which has been reserved in Shonen World for the kinds like Kagami Taiga; in fact Kagami is more believable a protagonist than him. But why that? Not only Kuroko is slighted in “masculinity” but also in physical strength. He is not just not casually written as “different than other boys”, and I have some theories to justify his attitudes and why makes him so special.

The way is Kuroko is introduced is very dark and comic at the same time: all of his first appearances are introduced like ghosts, which is the extended metaphor for the “phantom sixth man” and he always has that sort of “invisibility”. But why he lacks presence at all, we never really questioned in the fandom: we sort of accepted him and the way he is. This kind of “lack of presence” is well dealt into Patrick Suskind’s novel “Perfume: the story of Murderer” where the protagonist too suffers internally for his “lack of presence”. Suskind writes that this was because for his lack of “human smell”. When Grenouille (the protagonist) realized that he lacks his own odor, it fuels him to establish his identity as a perfumer. I see many similarities between Suskind’ Grenouille and Fujimaki’s Kuroko: their lack of presence is crucial for their recognition of sense of self. In Kurokoverse, I think Kuroko lacks this crucial “body smell” which makes him ‘invisible’. In the novel, Grenouille could get past dogs unnoticed, and the way Kuroko picks up Nigou without much of a fuss determines that he has that “lack-of-human” quality. The identification with the dog later on makes it unsettling as well: why do their eyes look alike? how did he find something like that? Could it be an extended metaphor that the Dog is also a “phantom” and he is mimicking Kuroko in a way? Dogs in many culture are associated with the Spirit world: they are also the ones that can allegedly “see” the spirits and ghosts.

The next is Kuroko’s stoic demeanour. He speaks in a flat and soft tone, barely shows any emotions, and even his affections towards Nigou and former teammates lack warmth. It doesn’t mean that he is being cold to be cruel, the thing goes way deeper. What if he can’t? What if he had not the capacity to do so. During my Quarantine Rendezvous of Kdrama I discovered Secret Forest with a protagonist of same formulations. The protagonist Hwang Shi-Mok is highly moral, emotionally unavailable, brutally honest, soft spoken and to some cases, he is downright eerie. He reminded me of Kuroko greatly. His lack of emotional response doesn’t come from a psychotic brain-development, but from the partial lobotomy of his insular cortex (the part of brain that controls hearing, emotions, feelings, desires etc) due to a childhood illness. What if Kuroko had the same shortcoming in his brain that made him the way he is? He could be deficit in his insular cortex which contributed to his cold demeanor. In the drama, Hwang’s surgery made him emotionally stunted but heightened in subjectivity and cognitive functions.

Kuroko too, is always unnaturally calm during stressful situation, even when veterans are breaking apart. He always sees things with uncanny subtlety, even outdoing Riko and Momoi, and it really makes me wonder of his unique brain: wow, that’s a lot for a sixteen year old. But it doesn’t mean that emotions get buried forever, Kuroko has a few outburst and it is usually cold and unsettling, which happens when emotions are not handled in a natural manner (outburst on spot with facial expression, behavior, subjective actions etc.) On the other hand, these emotionally unavailable people show their genuine emotions (smile, shout, complement etc.) when they are deeply moved. Even their small act of generosity is taken as a grand gesture of affection or care because of their stone cold attitude. This explains why Momoi went head over heals on Kuroko when he gave Momoi the lucky draw Popsicle. However their emotional unavailability drains the loved ones in the long term and they are bound not to have too many emotional connections in their life, which feels sad because Kuroko is presented in such an endearing manner.

Tags: @sidd-hit-my-butt-ham @yanderebakugo @kurokonbscenarios @kurokonobasket @kurokonoboisket @art-zites @idinaxye @sp-chernobyl @strawbe3ryshortcake @reservethemoon @rilnen @a-shy-potato @thirsthourdemon @animebxxch @edagawasatoru @akawaiishi-blog @reinyrei @chloe-noir @theswahn @ahobaka-trash @jeilliane

#kuroko tetsuya #kuroko no basket analysis #knb characters #why kuroko is special #hwang shi mok #jo seung woo #happy birthday kuroko #31st jan #kuroko no basket #knbedit #knb psychology #anime psychology #otaku analysis

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stepgazz · 4 years

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//warmest days//lee jeno//

you love the sun; it soaks you with life. you love the light; its purity drowns you in hope. but they’ve never held you as lovingly as the cold, in the dark.

angst, fluff

(kind of) enemies to lovers

5.8k words

Your hand dangled off the open window, the swift summer breeze licking around your fingers. The sun veiled your face like a golden mantle, shimmering off of your earrings as they swayed, clicking melodically. The car rumbled down the road, wafts of a heavy, floral scent filling your lungs. The sky itself turned into a mirror under the simmering heat, and you looked up into it with a deep gratefulness in your heart. You hadn’t felt this warm with happiness in a long time.

Jaemin firmly held the stirring wheel with his left hand, rambling sweetly about how excited he was about the trip. His girlfriend was seated next to him, in the front, holding his right hand in hers while smiling at his ardent babbling with adoration in her eyes. Every time he looked over to her, Jaemin’s face would scrunch up with even more excitement.

Watching them, your heart would tremble with joy: for their love, for the amazing days ahead, for the beauty in all of these good feelings. You smiled widely at how full your chest felt, so heavy with life.

You could imagine what was happening in the other car, where the other boys were stuffed: Jisung and Chenle screaming the entire time as Mark drove and Donghyuck teased him endlessly. You could almost hear the vehicle vibrating with their laughter. The thought of Renjun fleeing from the chaos and deciding to move to your car, just so he could sleep for a bit, made you chuckle to yourself. The poor boy had dozed off on your shoulder, his face finally relaxed after continuously cringing at the soap opera happening in the front seats. You looked down at him affectionately, slowly coming to the conclusion that there was nowhere you’d rather be than right there, right then.

And as you peeled your eyes away from Renjun, they met Jeno’s.

Jeno wasn’t warm. He’d never felt warm to you. Jeno was scarily stoic and intimidating, you’d never seen any other face of his. The guys always claimed he was nothing but a gentle giant, but to you, he was rough and distant. Terribly cold.

Meeting his gaze was usually a bad sign. He had that power: scolding with his eyes only, shooting icy, half-a-second long warnings that made your veins feel frozen. That’s all he ever did, though; warn. His gestures were defensive, cautionary; that shield of ice was never low. That resent in his guard seemed to state his feelings towards you clearly and you never stepped past this line he was obviously drawing.

So, as you met Jeno’s eyes, you were taken aback. He seemed to have been looking for a bit, before scoffing at the contact in your stares and returning to his cold corner, his temple lifelessly pressed to the window. You remained locked to his image, following the sharp angle of his clenched jawline up the contour of his profile. Long, dense eyelashes casted a dramatic shadow over his eyes, seeming to repel the pleasant touch of the sun. Tension squirmed beneath his skin and you watched it carefully, with dangerous interest. When he wasn’t menacing, Jeno looked noble and handsome. Distant and cold in a beautiful way, like marble statues and huge, stone castles.

You turned to your own window, embalmed in the rich light, and closed your eyes to the loving exchange in the front seats. The breeze brushed your skin ever so lightly, summer staining your face with peppered, sunny kisses.

***

When you finally stopped at a gas station, the soft atmosphere turned chaotic almost instantly. Chenle jumped out of the car with a screech, running to the bathroom as Jisung calmly followed. Mark was rubbing his eyes, practically begging Haechan to drive instead. He gave in, not failing to mention that he was doing so for his own safety, not for “you three dumbasses”. Jaemin stretched with a content sigh, opening the door for his girlfriend, who thanked him for driving carefully with a peck. Despite the disgusted groan from Renjun (who was barely awake yet still outraged by them), you found it really sweet. And apparently, so did Jeno.

He sat with his arms crossed above his chest, a faint smile fluttering on his lips as he watched the pair. While he didn’t seem like the type to show tenderness, you’d heard Jaemin often call him a softie. So, as much as you kept your distance, the idea of seeing that side of Jeno often kept you awake.

“Awww, is Nono jealous?” Haechan slurred, puckering his lips at the boy.

Jeno’s smile faded instantly as he pretended to throw a fist in Donghyuck’s direction, who flinched apologetically. A slight chuckle left your lips before you realized, which made you instantly turn to Jeno. To your surprise, he resumed to a breathy laugh, curiously detached. Its calmness sparked something in your chest.

Chenle and Jisung returned from the bathroom beaming with energy, which made Mark whine in exhaustion. Everyone laughed at the black-haired boy as he pressed his palms against his face, defeated. With despair, he pleaded:

“Renjun please switch places with me.”

“No way, never. I slept like a baby the whole time; I’m not going back into that hellhole. I barely got out!” He pointed at the empty car, which looked just as tired as the driver. “Sleep there with your crazy kids.”

Chenle looked over, deeply offended, but Renjun didn’t bother to notice. “Plus, (Name) is a great pillow.”

You smiled towards Renjun when you felt him pat your shoulders proudly.

“Poor (Name) couldn’t move an inch because of you.”

The sound of Jeno’s voice rung in your ears when you heard your name. You turned to look at his face, which was washed in the orange glow of the sunset, and you saw a sly smile curve his lips. His black hair fell in velvety waves over his forehead, standing up in places where he had run his fingers. His eyebrows were raised in Renjun’s direction, who stammered under his gaze.

“Oh, um…you couldn’t?” his voice gave away genuine remorse, which made you puff with a giggle.

“It’s fine, you were okay!!” you reassured him by rubbing his arm as the others laughed.

“You almost drooled on her shoulder!” Jeno pointed at you, meeting your eyes while his were coiled into demilunes. You couldn’t remember the last time he smiled in your direction, let alone when you made eye contact.

Renjun apologized again, earning even more laughter through his embarrassed rambles. He eventually concluded that it was better to switch places, which made Mark almost yell with relief. The group kept talking in the gas station parking lot as vehicles came and went, bumbling by like bees. The sun was setting rapidly and the sky was growing more and more bruised with darkness, which soon made the boys decide to “set sail once more”.

But before you could all settle back into the cars, Mark stopped and called out for Renjun, who groaned and spat a “WHAT” at him.

“What if we let Donghyuck sleep with those two and we share a room?”

And to that, Renjun’s face lit up while Haechan’s instantly darkened.

“Those three won’t sleep anyways, it’s perfect!!” Renjun exclaimed with glee.

Havoc ensued, nonetheless. You watched the boys point fingers at each other alongside Jaemin and his girlfriend. Behind you was Jeno, with his elbows resting on top of the car and his chin digging into the meat of his forearms, the same gentle smile hovering on his mouth. Their voices, growing more and more frustrated, filled the haunting silence of the gas station parking lot, reminding you once more of how vividly alive you were feeling, deep inside your ribcage.

“Okay, guys, let’s just decide the rooms, okay?” Jaemin began, making reassuring gestures with his hands towards Renjun and Haechan, who were at each other’s neck already.

“Mark is right. Him and Renjun share a room, because they’re both tired and Mark needs to rest in order to drive.”

The guys whose names were said howled at each other in content.

“Chenle, Jisung and Haechan share a room. I think it’s fair for all of us.” Jaemin eyed the three boys, the youngest ones cheering around the eldest, who was reduced to sulking silently.

“Haneul and I have a room for ourselves. Isn’t that right?” He smiled at the girl, who nodded with a loving expression.

And before he could say it, it dawned upon you.

“And Jeno and (Name) share a room, and that’s it. Now, everyone to the cars.”

Your heart dropped into your stomach with sickening speed. The look on Jeno’s face showed the feeling was mutual.

“We were supposed to share a room!” Jeno boomed towards Jaemin, who signaled him to bring the volume down. “Haneul and (Name) were supposed to share a room!”

“Now, now, you know I can’t go with my girlfriend somewhere and not sleep in the same room as her—”

“THEY’RE DOUBLE BEDS!”

You thought your heart was in your stomach before, but now it fell to your feet. You weren’t only sharing a room, but the bed also. Something felt awfully chilling on your back.

Jeno barged into the car and shut the door with a thud, holding his forehead into one of his palms. You looked up at Jaemin; he sighed with annoyance before opening the door for Haneul, who hopped in elegantly. Mark stared at you, probably thinking you would get murdered that night. He took his own seat, separating you and the frowning boy. You got in as well, gulping at how cold you were feeling, all of the sudden.

You stared out the closed window the remaining length of the ride.

***

The motel didn’t look as ragged as you had initially thought it would: the building was tall with yellow, glowing windows like a bunch of friendly eyes. The dry flower beds in front of it only gave it some more charm, their dull beige highly contrasting the cozy maroon of the bricks. Other various plants sprouted through the cracked pavement, leading up to the main entrance, which seemed to welcome your anarchic group. You liked the earthy smell of its yard as it replaced the scent of the arid, concrete road.

As pleasant as its hearty quiet was, you didn’t get to enjoy it for long: the guys poured of the cars with bursting bags and started rambling once more about the rooms. You had your own backpack slung over your shoulder, holding the strap tightly as the boys zoomed past you and towards the check-in desk.

Jaemin handed you the key to your room with a reassuring smile. You examined the silver object, turning it over in your palms as you began going up the stairs: this little thing would lock you and Jeno in the same room overnight, and the thought made you squeeze it in your fist, as if it would crumble.

Suddenly, someone tugged at your rucksack. Your head snapped to look behind you, meeting Jeno’s glare as he wordlessly slipped the strap off your shoulder and tossed the object on his back.

“I got it—”

“What’s our room?” he cut you off.

Jeno held the eye contact stubbornly, like he was trying to make you stammer. The word “our” caused your hand to clutch the key even harder.

“25. 3rd floor.”

“See you there.”

And he sped up the staircase, disappearing past the corner of the next flight. You stood on the steps, baffled, as the rest of the group diffused around the mute motel.

***

You rubbed your eyes with the pads of your palms: they were burning with fatigue. Your entire body felt tacky with sweat as you sat on the single chair in the entire room. It wasn’t bad for a motel; you could manage a single night as long as you had a power outlet and a bed.

“Oh, the bed.” The thought came back to you unexpectedly. You were stressing a bit too much over that.

Your slight panic was disrupted by the bathroom door swinging open, Jeno walking out of the shower followed by a cloud of steam which tumbled into your small, already suffocating room.

“Okay, this is how we’re going to do this.”

You looked up and gasped a bit. Jeno stood before you, drying his damp hair with a towel. A black pair of shorts rode low on his hips while his upper body was fully exposed: waterdrops trailed down his clavicles, leaving glossy traces on the skin as they trickled further. His chest tightened with every breath between his ribs, which defined fine lines where they intersected with muscle. He truly resembled one of those beautiful sculptures; the ones that made you wonder what gorgeous creature could have instigated its creation.

But those pieces of art are as cold as their marble makes them. That’s their only flaw: they’re frozen through the meat of their own self, cursed to never feel warmth again. Therefore, Jeno fit the description well.

“You stay on your side of the bed and I stay on mine. It’s big enough for us to sleep away from each other.”

You couldn’t pretend his words weren’t hurtful. As much as you’d love to, you couldn’t hate Jeno back. He never gave you a reason to. On the contrary, when he wasn’t talking to you or minding your presence too much, Jeno was pretty sweet. Not only was he really funny (which was quite the unpopular opinion in your group) and kind, he was a genuinely pleasant person. He had a respectable, trust-worthy ambiance. Jeno felt intense in a lot of ways.

You liked Jeno more than you were willing to admit. But he never liked you back.

“Or…I could sleep on the floor?”

His change in tone made you realize how your face had dropped at his previous instructions. You shook your head, clearing your thoughts, then answered:

“No way. We’ll fit alright.”

Jeno met your eyes and nodded. There was thankfulness in his look.

“I’ll go see what the rest are up to while you shower, then we can go to sleep.”

You watched the black-haired boy pull a white, transparent t-shirt over his head and slip his trusty pair of glasses on his nose. On his arms popped veins while he ruffled his hair, settling the messy, moist locks into a combed-back quiff.

Something almost made you stand up and stop him from leaving. Something almost made you tell him he looked handsome like this, disheveled and relaxed. Something almost made you ask him to stay.

“Lock the door behind you.”

And he did as he walked away.

You fell asleep before he returned, in a bed half cold.

***

That coldness haunted your dreams.

You woke up to a completely dark room, with your lungs rapidly emptying of air then desperately sucking it back in. Chilling sweat pooled in beads on the back of your head.

You pushed your fists against your forehead, calming yourself down. You’d dreamt of something bad, something you couldn’t quite remember after opening your eyes. With each passing second, the nightmare floated further away, allowing reality to settle back inside your head.

The room was too big, too frigid for you to feel any safer. You missed the sun, drenching you in its spell of happiness so generously. You missed the breeze, that breath of summer carrying your exhaled moments to another soul. You wanted to open the window and wait for dawn right there, with your mouth agape and your skin screaming for heat.

But you sat between those white, ageless sheets and gasped like a dying animal in the winter. The air was still and empty, haunted by your nightmares, and the nightmares of other travelers before you. In the dark, everything seemed dead for long.

“You okay back there?”

Jeno’s voice was raspy and deep, but it sounded comforting in your frenzy.

“I had a nightmare.”

Your skin crawled at the word.

Behind you, there was silence, then a shift. The bed creaked under the moving weight as Jeno turned to face your back with a groan. You could feel him exhale deeply into the back of your head before lifting his arm.

His fingertips grazed against the throbbing skin of your temple, tracing down your cheek, then the side of your neck, shoulder and arm before lifting his hand and fluttering his fingers, as if he was shaking off water drops. He kept drawing this outline with an unexpected gentleness, growing more confident each time.

“My sister used to do this to me when I had nightmares. She’d tell me she was taking the bad thought from my head and guiding it away.”

Your body was limp under the contact. The spots he was touching felt excessively sensitive, yet every time his fingers left your skin, it ached for his feeling.

“It always worked.”

It really was working. In fact, there weren’t any thoughts left in your head as he traced your sides time after time. Air seemed to be enough once again, the dark wasn’t as dense anymore. And you wondered how you felt hot all of the sudden, when his cold hands were caressing you.

Was it really Jeno, behind you? Was his presence this human? Was his skin truly soft and his scent this pleasant? Nothing had ever felt this exhilarating with him. There was nothing but ice in his attitude when it came to you, so this new stance was bewildering. He had been hiding this tenderness from you and he would hide it again the next day, like a wound he was embarrassed about, but had to tend at night. Your heart couldn’t take the thought of Jeno being this kind to you once, then never again.

Your hand acted on its own, grabbing his while it traced the side of your arm. The tendons tensed his palm beneath yours, almost making him pull away. But he kept it on you, even flattening it on the skin.

“Why do you hate me?”

The words felt bitter on your tongue as you spat them. Jeno sighed behind you, a waft of warm air brushing against your neck.

“I don’t hate you. Go to sleep.”

He tried pulling away again, in order to turn his back to you, but you pressed down on his hand.

“Don’t lie.”

“Go to sleep, (Name).”

“Please, Jeno.”

His fingers dug into your meat at the sound of his name. You turned to lay on your back, the contour of his body winding next to you. You stared up at the celling, refusing to look at him. Still, you could feel his stare in your temple, burning holes into your head.

“I don’t hate you and I mean it.”

“Then why are you like this to me? What did I ever do to you?”

You weren’t even angry. Deeply frustrated maybe. There was an entire side of this man that you’d never get to see for some reason and it killed you to know that.

You liked Jeno too much to ignore him.

“I couldn’t hate you even if I wanted to.” He mumbled into your ear. You could tell he regretted saying it right away.

You were thinking the same thing.

“You know how we practically had to beg the company to let us go on this trip, because of our…image?”

Jeno started tracing from your shoulder down to your wrist with his fingers, breathing into your ear after each word like it hurt him to say them.

“You know how Haneul can barely walk down the street, now that people know about her and Jaemin?”

You nodded, still not knowing where he was going.

“You know how we decided to sleep in the middle of nowhere, in this motel, just so we wouldn’t run into anyone who knows us?”

He paused. The silence sprawled out over your chest like a dead, poor thing. His breathing sounded faster than normal, but your ears were ringing too badly for you to tell.

“I didn’t decide to hate you.”

Jeno propped himself up on his elbow, enough so he could look down at your face. Behind him, the window glowed ghastly, like a mouth full of smoke. The dirty light coming from the distant, white street lights lined Jeno’s imposing silhouette with silver.

“But I’ll hate you if I have to, because I can’t afford to hurt you with my real feelings.”

Your heart felt heavy for a reason you couldn’t name. His stare fell upon you like an invisible weight and you shuddered under it. His voice was twisted with an ambiguous emotion, ignited by something that seemed to deeply trouble him.

“Then what do you really feel?”

You turned your head towards his. As your eyes grew used to the darkness, shapes started gaining contour. So did his face as you could make out the bold line of his eyebrows, angling downwards to define his nose. Truthfully though, you didn’t need light to make out his face: time after time of carefully analyzing his expressions resulted in his perfect portrait getting inked into your mind. From the pretty mole near his right eye to the deep cupid bow dictating the form of his lips, you could trace them virtually, even in pitch black darkness.

So, you could imagine the blank look on his face, contrasted by a grave glare you could almost feel picking you apart.

Jeno sighed, almost pained.

“What I’m trying to say is—”

“What do you feel?”

You looked where you knew his eyes were. In the soft shadow draped over his face, you could see the sparkle in his gaze, holding yours.

“Those people will hurt you and I won’t be able to protect you. They’ll say bad things about you.”

“Jeno.”

“I can’t let them hurt you. I love you so much that I need to hate you.”

Time froze.

Maybe because all of the cold he’s ever shown you was evaporating with each word. Maybe it was all spreading in the air, icing over everything in the room, including the dripping seconds. His stare was burning, so were his words. So were his fingers, as they held your limp palm.

“Love is a strong word.” Your whisper came out shaky, as if your body was succumbing to the biting cold of winter.

“I know what I said.”

Jeno’s palm felt up to your cheek with gentleness, leaving explosions of tingles on its way. He cupped your face and held it like he had finally found something he’d sorely missed.

“I tried so hard to hate you.” You hiccupped the words, but there were no tears on your face. “I turned myself inside out trying to hate you, because you were so cold. You were so distant and-and indifferent. You were so far away but I couldn’t hate you no matter how hard I tried!”

The boy listened wordlessly, rubbing circles into your cheek to assure you he was still there, with you. You emptied your lungs of air, so tired of the tension they had been enduring while you spoke.

“I couldn’t hate you back. I couldn’t.”

Then there was a pause, as long as a thought.

“I’m so scared of what could happen to you if I showed you the truth.” Jeno talked so lowly, you almost thought a ghost had spoken from within the walls. You placed your own hand over his, holding it tight.

“Please don’t push me away again.”

And he didn’t.

Instead, he brought you closer, flattening his lips onto yours. Your mouths molded perfectly, within a second, like they knew how. His heat struck your body like lightning, trapping you under his clutch. As you kissed him, the back of your eyes stung with tears; of relief, you figured, when you realized that beautiful statue you admired with guilt had come to life before you, drenching you in a warmth you’d never felt before.

Jeno had been lying to you, trying to keep you safe. In the process, you fell for him anyways, which almost made you laugh into the kiss. But only hours before, it broke your heart to even look him in the eyes. Deep down, you knew you would’ve done the same if you were in his place.

The black-haired boy pressed his forehead to yours, tearing his lips away with a slick sound. His fingers grazed the side of your neck, then slipped over the edge of your shoulder to rest on your arm. Hot exhales soaked into your skin and you couldn’t bring yourself to rip away from his presence.

“I don’t want my life to ruin yours.”

You listened to his whispering with worry, as it sounded so broken with emotion. His tenderness was making you melt into his hold, but his words were curdling your blood.

“I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“Then I’ll be your little secret.”

You supported his face between your hands, your fingertips accommodating to the soothing sensation of his skin.

“And I’ll love you in secret, until we figure out a way. It’ll be the two of us. I’ll be your secret.”

Jeno chuckled quietly, you barely heard it. But you could tell there was a smile on his lips: he was relieved, too.

“Just promise me I’ll wake up tomorrow and you’ll still love me.”

All he could do was connect your lips again.

His head moved against yours, digging further into the kiss with a ravaging hunger as the tip of his nose poked your cheek. Your hands curled into the black, messy locks behind his ears while your mouth swallowed his heavy breathing like you were suffocating. As he propped himself on top of you, you gasped at the shift in weight, allowing him to slip his tongue in and meet yours.

The sounds of a languid, sloppy kiss filled the still-frozen air. He gulped down the mix of your saliva, sucking the exhales out of your throat. Jeno’s taste stained every corner of your mouth: the more you felt it, the sweeter it got. That intensity he radiated poured out of him endlessly, through his every gesture. It spilled over the edges of his being and soaked yours, overpowering your senses.

The flame of the moment dimmed slowly as your eyes grew heavier with slumber. You guessed so were Jeno’s as he enveloped you in his arms and fell on his side, his chest flushed to yours in a scorching touch. He held you so tightly you wondered if he could feel your heart squirm inside your ribcage.

Jeno unstuck his mouth from yours, breathing heavily into your hair. Your forehead found its place between his collarbones, separated from his skin only by that thin, white t-shirt that looked so good on him. You nestled into the warmth of his torso, aching to get as close as possible to the man you uncovered that night.

That Jeno that had been hidden away from you with an intention purer than imagined.

“You’re so warm.” You murmured into his sternum.

His laugh blew air onto the top of your head, followed by a heartfelt kiss.

You fell asleep with his lips pressed to your hair.

***

You felt around blindly with your hand, flattening the cool wrinkles of the sheets next to you in your search for Jeno’s heat. Your eyes fluttered open with panic when you couldn’t find any trace of him.

But you looked in front of you through squinted eyelids and found him sitting up next to you. The window behind him shone with blinding sunlight, outlining his frame like an orange aura, seemingly made of newfound affection. The sun had finally rose to save you from the dark, but you’d found shelter in Jeno nonetheless.

You blinked and groaned at the rays attacking your poor, sleepy eyes. You settled with your hands sprawled above your head, still admiring the boy which was now smiling at you.

Jeno sat cross-legged next to you, supporting his weight on his hands, behind him. You trailed with your gaze up his arms, watching the veins snaking up beneath skin and guiding you to his wide shoulders that stretched imposingly. His Adam’s apple bobbed with a muffled chuckle as he noticed you intensely concentrating on him. As you reached his face, a loving smile had formed on your lips as well.

“This t-shirt looks really good on you.” You managed in a drowsy voice. His laugh made your cheeks flush every time.

“Good morning to you too.”

You stretched again, your whole body shaking at the release of tension. Jeno inched closer to push some stray strands out of your face then kept his fingers tangled in your hair, petting it with adoring delicacy.

“Were you awake for long?”

“Maybe 10 minutes. I just like looking at you.” He sounded genuine, yet amused.

You covered your face with your hands, slowly realizing how messy you probably looked: you could tell your eyes were swollen and your cheeks puffy just by touching them. The purple crescents beneath your eyes were definitely obvious, too. You croaked out a slurred “shut up”, scrunching your nose at the sound of your own voice.

He laughed again, heartily. All you could think of was how much you loved hearing it.

“Yesterday we were in the car and you were sticking your hand out the window like a little kid.”

“What about it?” you teased.

“Your face was glowing in the sun and your earrings were clattering and you were smiling so widely and…” he exhaled heavily, in a daze, “…you were really pretty.”

You listened, speechless. Remembering how you accidentally met his eyes almost gave you goosebumps. Then, you recalled admiring his face in the harsh, natural light with a heavy heart, as if you weren’t allowed to, while Renjun sat between the two of you, deep in slumber. Was the thought of you what had made him clench his jaw?

Jeno plopped besides you, snickering at his head bouncing on the pillow. You couldn’t stop smiling as you placed your palm on his cheek, curving it around his mandible, feeling his pointy chin and velvety lips.

Touching his face like this, feeling his features beneath your fingertips so vividly for the first time was making your vision blurry with happiness. With his shield shed, Jeno felt familiar and safe.

You kissed him lightly, just to make sure he was real. His lips were soft and welcoming, savoring the caress of your mouth against his. Before you could pull away, he moved to trickle more loving pecks down your chin and neck, sucking pale, violet blooms into your collarbones and shoulders. His eyes connected the moles stamped onto your skin up to your face, meeting your stare before diving into another kiss. You’d drown in his love happily, you thought, as you looped your arms around his neck.

You whispered against his mouth, stroking his cheek with the knuckles of your fingers:

“You’re the most beautiful person I know.”

***

You sat on the side of the bed and watched him pull a clean, black t-shirt over his head. The muscles on his back tensed, tightening against his shoulder blades and curving into the dip of his spine. His hair was fluffy, bouncing at every move. Jeno ruffled the locks into a casual look, then slipped his glasses onto the tip of his nose, pushing them up using his middle finger. You’d told him he looked cute with them, so he decided to replace his contacts with the traditional alternative, just for you.

You got up and straightened out your clothes with your palms: a baby blue dress, as pale as the simmering sky, flowing down your body and stopping just above your knees. Its lack of sleeves exposed your collarbones and the fading bite marks on them, but Jeno had been careful enough to make them as light as possible. The urgency with which he made them showed he wasn’t fully satisfied, though.

He walked over to you and grabbed your waist, his fingers molding to your shape with yearning.

“How do we do this?”

Jeno’s eyes looked for yours with attentiveness, waiting for the relieving sound of your voice.

“If you’re not comfortable with the guys knowing yet, it’s alright. I trust you.”

“But what if I’ll want to hold your hand?”

You’d never seen Jeno pouting before, but the sight was memorable to say the least. You giggled and held onto his shoulders, following the movements of his lips curling into words with your gaze.

“You can do whatever you feel comfortable doing, Jeno. I’m not scared of anything when I’m with you.”

And you meant it. The dark and the cold, hatred and silence: Jeno had freed you of all of those, even though just days before he seemed to be built out of them. Jeno showed you the beauty in them, despite how heavy they made your heart. They no longer scared you, somebody had taught you there can be love behind all of them.

“I trust you.”

***

You looked in the mirror into the backseat, watching Jaemin and Haneul cuddle into each other subconsciously as they slept. Both of them looked tired that morning: after some noise complaints from Mark and Renjun, you figured why. The latter boy was also in the back seat, squeezed into the corner and fast asleep with a repulsed expression frozen onto his face as Jaemin leaned onto him. His girlfriend was cozily curled onto his chest.

Jeno was driving. An image came into your mind, watching his left hand tighten around the wheel. The memory of the other couple cooing sweet nothings at each other in the front seats caused a mindless chuckle to slip from your lips. You felt Jeno turn to look at you, surprised by your sudden laugh, but you stared out the open window as the aromatic breeze whipped wildly inside your hair. The sun cupped your face with reassuring warmth; it reminded you of the boy besides you.

But you were the one to be surprised when you felt his right hand clasp yours, bringing it up to his mouth to press a lingering kiss to it. His eyes were focused on the road before him, but his smile showed his heart was with you. You entangled your fingers with his instinctively, Jeno placing your conjoined hands on your thigh. You guessed he had been thinking of the same thing as he looked into the back seat through the mirror and chuckled to himself.

But you could only stare at the gesture of love, resting in your lap. After all, holding your hand was the only thing he could worry about as he spoke to you that morning.

You were both taken aback when a husky voice, riddled with disgust, spoke from right behind you.

“Not you two as well!” Renjun whined, discouraged.

***

#nct #nct dream #jeno #lee jeno #jeno fluff #jeno scenario #jeno oneshot #jeno angst #jeno fanfic #nct ff #nct fanfic #nct fluff

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world-of-aus · 4 years

Text

You’re My Mission One-shot Soul Mate AU!

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 4,932

Warnings: violence, angst, fluff, here lies a twist

Author’s Note: Anything italicized is something occurring in the past! Here it is finally, i’ll be honest i’m not sure how i’m feeling about it but i decided to step out of a comfort zone and do a twist that i hope i made obvious enough. Literally last minute while i was editing i had the brilliant idea to change the ending and well, i hope it doesn't suck to bad lol. I hope you’ll enjoy it none the less, behind the screen coming out tomorrow!

You awoke with a pounding head; a pained groan fell from your lips as you tried to move your aching body. Panic seeped into you when you found you couldn't move your arms, pins and needles prickling at your fingers as you struggled with the ties that had you bound. You looked around with wide eyes, but there wasn’t much to make out in the dimly lit room. You scourged your hazy brain for something, anything to tell you how you had ended up here in this situation. Your eyes widened in horror.

You quickened your pace as you pushed yourself into the sea of bodies, you pushed against them as you tried to get away from his watchful eyes. You felt the coldness of his stare on you, watching you, studying you, much like the day before, he had only continued to draw closer as the week had passed. At first you had just thought you had stumbled upon the most mysterious man, with the most marvelous crystal blue eyes. Though when you were walking through the minuscule isles of your streets corner market and bumped into him once more you had chalked it up to fate playing games. The third and fourth time had you biting your lip with nervousness, surely you would have seen this man before if he really did have the same schedule as you, unless, you had shaken your head of those thoughts, it couldn’t be. You had decided to swallow down your nerves and approach him on the fifth day, you hadn’t known he was there until you felt a chill run up your spine, the feel of eyes watching your every move as you ordered your favorite caffeinated drink from the overly friendly barista. Sure enough when you had handed your payment to the cashier, you chanced a glance over your shoulder to already find his gaze on yours, he had your breath catching in your throat.

You moved off stiffly to the side to allow the next customer to move up, you gazed away from the predatory eyes focusing on the baristas behind the bar, you took a deep breath deciding that you would go over to the mysterious man and confront him, in your mind there was simply no explanation for why he was always appearing in locations you had never seen him before. Your name was called and you took uneasy steps forward taking the warm cup from the smiling teen. Turning on your heel you steeled yourself as you made your way towards the man sitting in the middle of the local coffee house. Taking a breath, you found your words, “excuse me,” you voiced warmly, “ I feel like I've seen a lot of you in places I've never seen you before, and maybe that’s just a coincidence, do I know you?” you questioned.

His eyes were locked on yours as he shook his head once, you swallowed fingers tapping on your Styrofoam cup nervously.

“are you-” you paused, “are you following me?” you questioned voice dropping.

Your nearly dropped the hot drink in your hands when his head nodded once, rather than questioning him any further you probably did the last thing you should have done, you ran. Your heart was racing in your chest as you raced out the doors and onto the busy streets. You looked behind you with wide eyes to see he was feet away. You quickened your pace, continuing to push through the crowds, eventually the crowd thinned the closer you got to home. You didn’t dare chance a glance back over your shoulder, you already knew he would be there. With a thrumming heart you continued to push forward, the heels of your ankle high boots thumping against the cemented side walk. If you strained your ears enough you could hear the pair of feet trailing you.

You were still another 3 blocks from your home, you began to grow desperate as the people on the streets became fewer and fewer. You did what could be described as your next biggest mistake, the one that was going to do you in. You ran, and in your hurry to get away from him you truly weren't thinking, and you ran into an alleyway, a choked sob fell from your lips as your hit a dead end. You baked away from the stoned brick, silent tears fell from your eyes, a silent gasp fell from your lips when you backed into something hard behind you. Turning ever so slowly, you looked up with wide eyes, your mouth fell open in a scream but nothing ever came as the world around you went black.

The sound of a steel door slamming had you jumping in the wooden chair you had been bound too. You waited with baited breath as you heard heavy footsteps approach you. He appeared under the single industrial pendant light. His eyes were set, jaw stiff, nostrils flaring as he looked you over, your body tensed when they landed on the knife in his hands.

“You know, you almost had me thinking I had gone after the wrong person,” he grunted.

Your eyes widened slightly, a look of horror coming over your features, “i don’t even know who you are, what do you want?” you whimpered.

His jaw clenched, “cut the shit and drop the façade y/n, it's just me and you,”

You quivered in your chair, “i- I don’t know what you’re talking about, how do you know my name?” you questioned shakily, “please just let me go I swear I won’t tell anyone anything I sw-”

A fist to the face cut off your words, your head snapped to the side, blood seeped from your split lip.

Your jaw clenched, spitting the blood that had gathered in your mouth you turned your head back towards him, he was closer now.

You adjusted yourself in the uncomfortable chair, “did you really forget that I can’t feel the pain you inflict on me?” you glared.

Though Bucky’s face had remained the same stoic stare, his eyes looked away from yours, you scoffed. “You know you could jeopardize this entire mission for us right, what the hell are you even doing Barnes, what the hell is all of this?” you questioned pulling at the restraints.

He let out a tense breath through his lips, “I just,” his fist clenched at his side, “I just needed to make sure you were okay,”

A sarcastic laugh left your lips, “and this,” you growled tugging at the restraints, “this is your way of making sure I was okay, didn’t think you cared, if I recall it was you fleeing the moment you found out we were s-”

“don't say it,” he growled, eyes growing dark as he glared at you.

You shook your head at the man in front of you, “see you still haven’t accepted it,” you muttered, “yet here we are, with me tied to a fucking chair because you wanted to make sure I was okay.”

The two of you grew quiet as you murdered one another with the intensity of killer eyes, “can you untie me my arms uncomfortable,” you muttered. Though Bucky personally couldn’t inflict any pain on you the ropes binding your hands now that was another story.

Bucky didn’t utter a word as he went behind you to cut the restraints, your arms fell limp at your sides, a inaudible pained groan fell from your lips. You pushed yourself up on wobby legs, gathering your bearings. Once the feeling had returned to your numbed limbs, you turned to face the stoic man next to you. It took you a second to reel your hand back, your fist flying into the side of Bucky’s cheek throwing him off guard, your foot was the next thing to swing taking a direct hit into the middle of his chest sending him flying a few feet back.

A growl left his lips as he stood, a pained expression on his face, “that’s what you get Barnes,” you hissed standing your ground, “it's been a damn year, and now all of a sudden you decide to “care”, if you even want to call it that,”

“y/n” he tried

“I don’t want to hear it,” you muttered, “does the team even know you’re here, that you’ve been following me?” You seethed, “Pierce could very well have caught on, he has eyes on me, it’s been a year and the asshole still doesn’t trust me, and now you showing up out of the blue to come check up on me, what the hell bucky!”

You could see his façade fall the longer he stared at you, “the team hasn’t heard from you, they were worried,”

An angry groan tore from your lips, “fuck you Barnes, why is it so hard for you to give into your feelings,” you yelled, “the teams well aware I wouldn’t be in contact until I got everything I needed to frame pierce, and IF they were worried why not send someone else, why YOU!”

Bucky stood unmoving, he didn’t know what to say, what could he say after he pushed you away.

You sat on his untouched bed, fingers twiddling in your lap as you waited for him. You were lost in your head as you went over the words you’d like to share with him, to express to him. There were so many emotions coursing through you, but the one shining through the brightest was disbelief. You had heard the stories, seen the headlines, even witnessed the love of two souls becoming one, you had just never thought it was in the books for you, you had never felt that tug towards someone, and you had been okay with it. Until today; you had never trained with Bucky, it was usually Natasha and occasionally Steve if he was willing to get rough housed. So when you had been informed that Steve and Natasha would be out of the tower for a few hours, you decided to try and coax the guarded soldier out of the confines of his room.

Bucky was always very guarded, you only ever saw him really let his walls down around Steve and that in itself was a rare occurrence, so having him here in the training room with you and watching him crack the smallest resemblance of a smile at you had you nearly falling to your feet.

“don’t let your guard down, keep your stance,” he murmured from his end of the mat.

This had been going on for the last thirty minutes, you two had yet to touch, you had just been dancing around one another, taunting, critiquing, building each other up for the first initial contact. Having had enough of this dance you two were doing you took the first step towards him, he was quicker though his foot sweeping you off your feet, your back and head meeting the mat instantly, but that’s not what had your breath catching in your throat. It was the chilling thought that you had felt no pain from his hit, it took the impact to bring any sort of pain to the forefront.

“you let your guard down?” he smirked reaching his hand out to you.

In your confused fueled driven state, instead of taking Bucky’s hand, you drove the palm of your hand into his cheek, the slap resonating through the room. Bucky looked at you wide eyed, “did you-” you took in shaky breath, “did you feel that?”

Bucky didn’t say anything as he retracted his hand, you had your answer the second he bolted out the door without so much as a word.

The door creaking open had you looking up, Bucky froze at the door, his eyes glued to your form, he closed the door ever so slowly behind him. He didn’t say anything as he stood there, just staring “You’ve heard the stories, haven't you?” you questioned, he didn’t say anything just continued to stare, “when two soulmates are meant to connect, there will be no pain, instead there will be joy in your soul, laughter, calmness, inspiration so much so that there will be hope in front of you, it will be like a beacon,” he still remained stoic in front of you, you were beginning to grow nervous, “ Bucky, I didn’t feel the moment you took me down, I only felt when my body hit the mat, and you can’t tell me that you felt, the slap to your face,” you murmured.

“it doesn’t mean we’re soulmates, it doesn’t-” he glared, pausing over his words as if he knew he might regret them.

Though you knew what he was getting at, what he was doing, and it didn’t keep your face from falling, “you can’t stand there and tell me you don’t feel it, that there’s not something there,” you murmured.

“what,” he grunted, “what do you want to be there y/n, there’s nothing there,” he hissed, “we’re barely even friends, we can barely call each other acquaintances, and now you want me to call us soulmates?”

His eyes were only growing colder, “it’s never going to happen, there’s just no way, all of it is just made up,”

“but buc-”

“but nothing y/n” he growled effectively quieting you, “there’s nothing there, no tug, no feelings drawing me to you, nothing,” he hissed, “so drop it, we’re not soulmates, you not feeling pain and me not feeling your wimpy punches means nothing, it just means you need to work harder, that’s, it,”

“But b-”

“drop it y/n” he grunted stepping closer to you, “there’s no connection between you and I, whatever it is you think you’re feeling it’s not real, so drop it,”

A part of you had started to believe maybe you had made this feeling up, because while soulmates were supposed to be the last person to bring you any semblance of pain, the ache growing in your chest, the ache in your soul was too much for you to bear.

You nodded numbly at him head casted down as your lower lip wobbled, eyes growing glassy with unshed tears. You didn’t murmur another word as you stood from his bed, you stepped around him, needing to get out, but the more steps you took away from him, the louder the crys of your soul got, the tug was overbearing as you pulled open his door stepping out silently as you let it click behind you.

Bucky had been caught off guard at not feeling the pain from your slap, you had been right, he had seen the articles, heard the stories, he just didn’t think it would ever happen to him, that he would meet his soulmate. Truth was Bucky had been overwhelmed at the thought of meeting his soulmate, and to discover that you been in front of him all this time really had thrown him. After everything Bucky had been through, all the trial and tribulations life had put him through he didn’t think he was deserving of having someone his soul was bound to, especially not someone like you. You were a pure soul, he didn’t want to taint you, to hurt you like the many people he had, but isn't that what he had done. He had pushed you away because he was scared of hurting you, of the evil that lurked in the hidden shadows hurting you.

“I’m sorry,” he tried head casted down, a scoff fell from your lips, his eyes darting up to yours.

“You're sorry?” you questioned exasperated, after you rejected me, rejected our tie, you’re sorry, well I'm sorry to say Bucky, but it’s a little too late,”

Tears were threatening to well in your eyes, it pained you to even have those words fall from your mouth, but what’s a little more pain.

“y/n”

“No Barnes, don’t you think you’ve put me through enough, why are you even here?” you questioned again growing agitated with this back and forth, “a year ago you couldn’t even bring yourself to acknowledge me after I tried to get you to open up about the possibility of us being soulmates and you pushed me away, the week before I was sent on this mission I had barely even caught so much as a glance of you, but now you’re here, and for what, what are you here for,” Your arms flew up in the air in frustration, “you can’t tell me it's because you finally decided to acknowledge any feelings because that would be a lie, you can’t even admit to being here to check on me because YOU wanted to see if I was okay, no you’re here because the team was worried not because you were.”

Bucky couldn’t find the words, he knew he had been wrong in pushing you away, he knew what could happen if either of you fought the strong connection that two soulmates had towards one another, but that’s exactly what he was doing. What had he expected though, was he expecting you to just run into open arms, forgive him as if the pain he put you through was nothing, he knew you would be upset, he just never thought he would be on the receiving end of your anger.

Your phone pinging in your pocket brought the both of you out of your angered states, you groaned as you reached for it, eyes widening slightly as you looked over the message, “shit” you muttered.

You turned on your heel, you needed to get out of here quick, Bucky was quick to notice your leave reaching out to a get a grip on your bicep. You turned to glare at him with storm filled eyes, “Let go Barnes,” you growled.

“No y/n we need to talk about this,”

You let out a harsh forced laugh, “I don’t want to talk anymore Bucky, you’ve already caused me enough trouble, and now pierce may very well have my head because of you,” you hissed, “do us both a favor and go,” you said ripping your hand free from his hold. You didn’t look back, you knew if you did, this whole mission could go sideways. Once you were out of sight of his watchful eyes, you pulled out your burner typing three in three urgent letters to Steve; S.O.S. ,just like you had gone over.

Your head snapped to the side a pained hiss leaving your lips, “you must think me a fool y/n, did you really think I wouldn’t find out,” he questioned beady eyes trained on your bloodied face. Did you really think I wouldn’t be keeping tabs on you this entire time, that you wouldn’t have a watchful eye over you, I have eyes everywhere, inside the office and definitely out, I need to make sure I know who’s been sent to work for me” he hissed dealing another blow to the side of your face. After receiving the message from Pierce you knew you were in for it when you actually came face to face with the man. You just didn’t realize how bad it would get, you could only hope that Steve would get your message and know how to locate you before your time ran out.

“took you long enough, surprised you didn’t confront me sooner, you know with you having a watchful eye on me,” you snarked spitting out a glob of blood at his feet.

You took another backhand to the face, your head cocking to the side from the force, “I'd watch your words very carefully agent, though the year that you’ve been under me you havent watched much of what you let out” he hissed, “you think you have the upper hand here, that you’re not just a pawn to the bigger picture?”

“What are you on about?” you gritted.

A laugh left his lips in the form of a scoff, his hand grabbed at your chin roughly, “you really think you’re the one with the upper hand here, that you would be getting anything out of me I've been watching you, hearing you y/n?” he laughed, “you really should have watched what you said in the dead of night in a hushed tone into the damned burner phone of yours.”

Your faced scrunched in confusion, “the winter soldier,” he hissed shaking your head, your eyes widened “all this time you thought you’d be getting an upper hand on me, oh but how the tables have turned agent, oh how they have turned,”

Your faced morphed from confusion to anger, “you bastard you won’t get away with this!” you yelled.

He got in your face then gripping your cheeks tightly, “oh but I already have, and you’re going to have a front seat agent, and don’t worry I'll make sure your death is slow and painful, shouldn’t have to wait much longer,” he grunted swinging you around to the door. You waited with baited breath, but soon gunfire was ringing through the cemented walls outside the door you were being held in. You could hear thumps of bodies heavily flying into the walls and floors, suddenly the rooms door you were being held in was kicked down with heavy force. Bucky and Steve stood at the door way, their breathing heavy as they glared at the man behind you.

“so glad the two of you could make it,” he spoke from behind you, “shall we get this show on the road?” he questioned. A click sounded through the room, your eyes met Steve’s and then they moved over to Bucky’s, your eyes used the words that you couldn’t speak in that moment.

Желание. Ржавый. Семнадцать.

The minute those words sounded through the room, it threw all of you into action, well you and Steve, Bucky was a frozen mass of muscle at the door. You watched with wide eyes as Steve raced to you, Pierce sidestepping him as he went to stand closer Bucky.

Рассвет. Печь. Девять. Добросердечный.

The next four words had Steve working at the restraints bounding you to the steel chair, “Steve hurry!” you rushed watching Bucky’s eyes grow darker, face growing colder. Steve cut and pulled at the string the fastest that he could, whispering into your ear, reassuring you that the two of you would be okay. You weren’t sure if you believed him, did he really think you could pull this off, even you were beginning to think maybe there had been faults in this missions plan.

Возвращение на родину. Один. Товарный вагон Солдат.

You were pulled from your restraints at the last second, a tense silence washed over you before chaos broke loose. Steve pushed you off to the side when Bucky charged him, “y/n go get out of here,” Steve grunted attempting to dodge his friend's hits. “Go!” he grunted, though you didn’t get far when Pierce lunged for you at the door, a pistol in his hands stalled you, but it was the gun going off where Steve and Bucky stood that froze you. You looked over in horror, as blood seeped from the middle of Steve’s suit, you rushed forward, Pierce not stopping you as you fell to your feet, hand pressing down onto the bleeding wound. Your fingers were stained in blood as it poured from his suit. It wasn’t long before Bucky was turning on you his fingers weaving in your hair as he threw you into the corner of the wall. If even for a second you were glad you couldn’t feel the pain, that he was about to bring. He didn’t waste a single second as he went at you, his hands merciless as they rained down on you. Your eyes widened as you saw him reach for the gun, the same gun he had just shot Steve with, you looked over to Steve while still trying to hold off Buckys towering frame, a cry fell from your lips as you saw the captain slouched over, eyes closed, breathing coming out unbelievably slow. Your eyes then looked past Bucky’s shoulder to see Pierce at the door a smug smirk on his face as he watched the scene.

You continued to shove at Bucky’s hand that held the gun, trying to fight it off though you knew the imminent was near and no training could have ever prepared you for it. A fist to the face had you falling to the floor his gun aimed at you, it took less than a second before a round was going off, a pain coursing through your body, you were falling off to the side, your sight increasingly going blurry. You watched Bucky walk stoically over to Pierce gun still clenched tightly In his hand, your eyes were rolling as the darkness pulled at you, luring you in, the last thing to ring through your mind was the sound of a round going off, another body falling to the floor.

Your body screamed in protest, eyes twitching behind your closed lids, your groggy head moved slightly the cotton pillow a welcome. With the strength you could muster up you fought your heavy eyes cracking them open ever so slightly. Two bodies hovered next to you, you pushed a little harder, your eyes finally fluttering open. Steve was the first to greet your line of sight, a small smile pulling at his lips, “how you feeling?” he questioned.

“Like absolute death, what the hell did Bucky shoot me with?” you groaned.

Steve scratched the back of his head, “you might want to ask Stark when we get back to the tower, if it was enough to take me down, can’t imagine what it would have done to you, what it did to you.”

You nodded your head, not trusting your body to do more with the haze it was still in, “hey at the briefing do you think we could bring up how uncomfortably sticky dyed corn starch with chocolate syrup is, I get it’s the most believable but my goodness, my clothes feels like a second layer of skin.”

Steve laughed at that, “noted, I'll definitely need a good scrub down myself, I was honestly worried with how quickly the concoction was seeping through my suit, had you not obstructed Pierce’s view he could have caught on.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat, Steve could sense the underlying question dancing on the tip of your tongue, his head fell slightly, “Bucky took care of Pierce,” he murmured. Your eyes glanced at Bucky where he stood off on Steve’s side, he was staring intently at your form, had he been staring this entire time?

“Actually,” Steve said suddenly, “we should be approaching the tower soon, so I'll give you two sometime,” he murmured, offering you a small smile patting Bucky on the back before he was moving away from the two of you.

Bucky moved up to the spot Steve had been in, “sorry about all this doll,” he murmured indicating the bruises that adorned your face.

“No need to apologize Bucky, I'm just glad this mission didn’t go sideways, I was worried for a minute that he had caught on to the actual plan we had set, its been a year of this, I forget half of the stuff I said to Steve over the phone” you groaned as you adjusted yourself on the cot. Bucky offered you a helping hand as he pulled you into a sitting position, your body slouching against the seat.

“Well we all held our part pretty well, especially you, I almost thought I had messed up all over again, it all felt so real” he murmured.

“You know,” you spoke drawing his eyes up to yours as you pulled at the intel device buried in the crevices of you ear, “I’m still mad at you for pushing me away the way you did," you added a teasing glint in your eye, “i think this mission may have sparked the underlying anger I still have,”

Bucky pushed at you shoulder slightly, “don’t start,” he warned “see I told tony it would be a bad idea to involve our history like this, do you know how bad I wanted to break character with those words spilling from your mouth?” he questioned, “I actually did, when I said that we needed to talk, but then you walked away and you didn’t turn back and its like something in me snapped again and I knew I needed to keep it together to see the mission through, I almost thought I had messed it all up because I couldn’t bear the fact at you being mad at me.”

An understanding smile pulled at the corner of your lips, “well then it’s a good thing we worked past all your mess, before we took on this mission,” you teased, though you could tell there was still some underlying insecurities in Bucky’s eyes. Your hands reached for his, “It was just a mission buck, yeah the words we shared held some truth, but we worked through those issues did we not?” you questioned. You saw him nod his head slowly, “it’s been a year of having to live out a past that we would rather keep behind us,” you sighed, “a past that was hard for both of us but hey we worked through those struggles then we can definitely work through it now.”

“i fought hard for you then, i’ll fight hard for you now,” you murmured bringing his hand to your lips.

YMM Tag-list: @lovely-geek

#you're my mission #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes one-shot #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes soulmate au #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #marvel fanfic #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfiction au

303 notes · View notes

writingsofmyimagination · 4 years

Text

Instinct |6|

Levi x Reader

Summary: An unwelcome(ish) blast from the Captain’s trainee days comes back to the Scouting Regiment and old habits die hard.

Instinct: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 |

So I decided to carry on with the series. Bit of a time jump... now around Chapter 72 time :)

tags: @nefelimalfoy @beautifulimperfections13 @pjimochi @submissive-bangtan

Enjoy :)

Words:3232

Warnings: Swearing (Obvs), Smut, Smut -Pretty Sub Levi…..Like Oooof!

“Sooo, how did it go with Erwin, I assume you tried again to convince him to stay” Levi and you merged to walk the same direction in the dusty courtyard. Green cape briskly swept over your shoulder as the wind nipped at your forearms; little pin pricks of cold. The temperature measured equally in Levi’s dark face; hair half drooped over his forehead. The orange hue from all the lamps casting a shadow covering a scowl which quickly came into view.

“That good huh?” you added, trying to coax blood out of a stone.

“Those two brats just don’t stop” The stone completing dodging the question.

“Again!?” Eyes rolling.

“You should just let them go for it; they’d tire themselves out eventually”

“Ugh… if I didn’t need to make sure his energy was fully preserved for tomorrow I would” Levi unburdened you of the large unopened bottle of vodka from under your arm.

“Corporal YL/N” Erwin called as he added another walking body to the courtyard.

“I’ll catch up” You offered Levi as he’d already turned his back to you and walked off. The trio of Mikasa, Eren and Armin bundled out of the canteen hall in a cheery ball of jest.

“Hey suicidal maniac!” Jean called propping the canteen door open with his foot, hand gripped around a green survey corp jacket.

“You forgot this” Jacket launched quicker than Eren could react. You rushed over before Eren had finished screaming ‘You little…’. Your fist tight around Eren’s. You twisted his arm manipulating him to the ground before he could strike.

“Aaah” Eren wailed as he picked himself up from the dirt.

“Jean, extra clean up duty” His face shadowed with annoyance; Eren’s on the other hand brightened.

“Eren after this mission cleaning duty with Levi wherever he chooses”. It was now Eren’s turn for his face to drop and Jean’s to brighten in a balanced 360.

“Yes Corporal” They both mumbled heads down. Jean disappeared back to the canteen and Eren slumped down on the steps next to Mikasa and Armin.

“Sorry Commander” Returning to where you were called.

“It’s quite alright, ready for tomorrow?”

“As ready as you can be” Your response was still yet polite.

“Oh come on Y/N, I know your pumped, no need to be restrained for me. Anyway, I just wanted to assure you that I will be commanding tomorrows mission Despite the chattering going through the core at present”

“Sir, honestly, I wouldn’t expect anything less, this is your dream too”

“Levi tried to convince me otherwise, to his failure of course”

“He did mention it, mostly in the form of him being quieter and slightly grumpier than normal”

A slight knowing smile crept minutely onto Erwin’s lips.

“I thought as much, anyway, enjoy your night. I assume the bottle Levi stropped off with was for you”

“Most definitely more for me. Good night commander. Rest well”.

The trio were still sat perched on the steps. Armin, the forever motivator of life beyond the walls exciting the others. The glimmer of hope sprinkled on their expressions light bright fairy dust a refreshing view. Even on Mikasa it was a sight to behold.

Entering the archway something black and still in the corner drew your attention. Head dropped down, his sullen gaze lightened, a few creases less on his face when the confusion struck yours.

“Didn’t know earwigging was your thing” You said, quieter to not alert the three kids. Levi shuffled himself off the floor and vigorously brushed himself down, slight creases grew in his forehead at checking his hands. He gave one more rushed wipe down before you both made your way to his office

“I wasn’t earwigging… I was listening to the brats be hopeful and dream about the future” There was slight distaste scattered through his words.

“Sooooo earwigging…. And is that a bad thing?” The over-dramatic roll of his eyes was heard like a sassy echo in the bare office he liked to squirrel away in.

All that was scattered on the wooden table to the back of the room was a few sheets of paper with diagrams, drawing, indecipherable scribbles that only Levi could understand.

He slumped himself down onto the armed wooden chair, scowl still present staring blankly down at the desk.

Jeez he really is in a grump.

“Okay captain scowl!” You began.

“Erwin needs this, I’m sure he is more than aware that this could potentially be his last mission. He’s not the type to sit back the same way you aren’t” Your arms now folded, strength firm in your stance.

“But his loss would be detrimental to humanity, guy is a damn genius”

“Yeessss he’s a genius, will it be a huge hit, course it will, but he wouldn’t be going if he knew that the Corps wouldn’t be in good hands if something were to happen” He shuffled the papers into a somewhat neater pile and placed them meticulously down in the centre of the table.

“I suppose your right” He conceded twiddling a pencil through his fingers.

“Aren’t I always?” Whisky frosting half of the small tumbler a golden brown which soon disappeared when the glass touched your lips.

“Now....” hanging onto the word diffusing into something much more sultry

You waltzed over to his desk, fingers already teasing undone the buttons of your blouse.

“Can you please stop thinking about work, it’s going to be a challenging day tomorrow as it is” you pleaded leaning against his desk facing him. The final button undone, sight teasing him away from his concentration. Holding the sides of the shirt like curtains to a happier Levi.

“Understatement” He mumbled, his finger finding its way through a belt loop, corner of his lips turning up to a wicked smirk, just how you like them.

“It’s also an understatement that you’re such a tease” he added, the shimmering glaze of mischief reflecting in his eyes coaxed a raised eyebrow with the victorious tinge of your lips.

“Oh Soo I am tempting you then?” his leg now in between yours, his hand resting on your sides

“Perhaps” He tugged at your bra with strong determined hands freeing your breast for his teeth to lightly toy with. Your only was response to hum in approval.

“LEEEVVIIII!” A high wailed cry barely muffled by the dark wooden door.

“Shit!” the pair of you breathed unanimously. You didn’t have any time to fix any of your clothing predicament before the door crashed open and Hanje burst in. To her you were just lent up against Levi’s desk with your arms folder; Levi remained in the chair stoic as ever.

Don’t come round!, don’t come round!

Panicked thoughts spun through your mind like a pin wheel.

“What do you want Hanje?” Annoyance slipping over Levi’s voice coating of distaste thoroughly embedded through it.

“I just wanted to let you know everything is ready for tomorrow”

That’s oddly calm considering her entrance.

Hanje looked mildy uncomfortable, her cheeks were slightly puffed, eyes were wide and flitty. Thankfully she’d not move from where she stopped on the right side of the desk.

You and Levi both waited a beat

“AREN’T YOU BOTH SOOO EXCITED!” She finally burst, her body fully exploding with movement. High pitched; almost intolerable. Levi’s eyes rolled. Obviously.

There we go.

“We’re going to THE BASEMENT!” she continued, her hyped up voice became distant as it was drowned out by the concentration of your fingers being sly in trying to do your buttons up. Levi thankfully battered no eyelids at your miniscule movements. Your shoulders dropped, reveal crisis averted.

“I’m aware” Levi droned

“Is Levi not too much of a damn stone to be spending all this time with? If I didn’t know Levi had such a small capacity for emotions, I’d say you two are a thing”

Hilarious. He may not have the massive heart…

“Can you actually imagine?” You laughed competing with her hysterics.

“Jesus Christ Ladies!” Levi complained tutting.

“I’m sorry Levi” Hanje managed still trying to control her laughter turning and leaving humming way too loudly on her exit.

“Can you not encourage that damn woman” He whined, stood out of his chair encroaching on your personal space, stealing a hard kiss from you.

“I thing you’ll find I’m helping our cover.” The two of you quickly became absorbed into each other again. As cold as he could be, his body never failed to be the warmth pressed against you that you needed.

“I think you’re a pain in my ass” he quipped back.

A pain in his ass he couldn’t let go of

“If you take me upstairs, I will be” You tested. His smirk against your lips was matched, pupils growing pools of craving.

Door clicked shut on the rest of the world, his shirt racing to the floor before you could tussle the buttons of your own shirt back open. The back of your legs hitting the rough surface of the table, the contact not disrupting the soft pressure of his lips dancing with yours; his bottom lip catching numerous times between the gentle tug of your teeth. The harsh pillows didn’t linger on your lips for long. The nips at your neck quickly ached with desperation, impatience crying through the hands fumbling at your trouser buttons. Your trousers pooled at the floor; strong grip at your waist encouraging you half onto the table. You placed a stern hand on his chest in halt.

“What’s wrong?” He breathed through staggered breathes. You answered with movement grabbing the towel from the dresser and coating the table.

“I’m not getting splinters for you. On your knees” You ordered sliding up onto the table after slipping of your underwear in a seductive swoop. Levi on his knees focused glistened eyes zoning on your every small movement. His glare ran ablaze with your foot firm on his shoulder, drinking in the view of soft pale skin. The thighs he knew looked so pretty with blossoming red flower bruises. The way he loved to make them quiver; you whimpering his name.

“Always so patient” you praised. His insides were clenched, teetering on the edge of desperation. Dying for your call. He swallowed hard, with the insatiable thirst had ravaging over him. This may have combusted when your hand dipped between your own thighs. Humanities strongest kneeling desperate on the floor beneath you trying to harness all the will to stay put.

“Tell me what you want” you offered your hand, foot sliding of his shoulder. His mouth enveloped round the wetness of your fingers; a deep hum vibrated through his throat.

Your legs now parted with him snug in-between. He was making you wait for his answer.

“Well?” He stilled for a moment completely faking to ponder. Hands ghosting up your lower leg, your soft skin only imploring him higher. Your index finger stroking come hither under his chin

“Mmm” The pair of you mumbled, white knuckles gripped his shoulders. Even with your lips pressed together you could feel the wicked way the edges of his lips curled upwards.

“This” he managed, drowning out your whine. Already feeling the controlled digits inside pressing to your walls.

“Be more specific or you get nothing” pleasant strain and held back whines hidden terribly in your voice.

“Ugh” Levi complained.

“Did you roll your eyes at me?”

“On the chair!”. Your tone snapper quicker than a whip.

“You can’t tell me what you want, then I’m just going to keep giving until I’m finished with you”

“Hands behind your back until I say otherwise” you added, hands prying his thighs wider.

“Eyes on me baby” He tried not to blink. Forcing himself to look down, refusing his eyes to roll upward as you’d dropped to your knees. Tongue licking a slow stripe on the underside of his member. His bottom lip catching between his teeth. He could only enjoy the sweet warmth of your mouth for a few blissful moments before his bottom lip puffed out in hardcore sulk mode. You turned from him, sweeping your hair to the front of your shoulder carefully balancing your weight as you lowered yourself onto him; not how he’d like. You’d sat on his lap purposely avoiding him. Your hips circled, your head back resting the side of his neck, his low whines now right at the shell of your ear.

“Oh did you think I’d give it up that easy?”

“Don’t think so ….”

You thumb teased over the tip of his cock before honing your attention to focus on the movement of your hips”

“Please” He whined

“I’ve hardly done anything” You toyed. Knowing full well it didn’t matter; not with the fact the pair of you had had little time over the last week or so. It was all just too easy to get to him.

“Mmm…no. You can sit there and feel me.”

Frustration began seething though his controlled breaths, hips trying to match your movements under your weight. Your skin was heating up, but yet you could almost shiver with how sparked your nerve endings were. His lips stuttering soundlessly

“Something you wanna say?”

“Please just cum on me…”

Pale milky wax in droplets solidified on his chest. Each one earned a hiss past his lips with the occasional curse chucked into the air for measure. Moisture gathered where his hair met his skin and shone in the flickering candlelight

Small red flower patches blossomed so prettily when the wax dropped of his skin. Your lips followed the beautiful field to the buds on his chest. His desperate groan elicited at the grip of your teeth his hips couldn’t help but buck up into you.

“Levi…Fuck!” Finally allowing yourself to sink down onto him, exasperated pants omitted by both of you in solace.

“Please let me have you now, I need yooou” Your hands still at his chest, hips circling at a painful pace. Torturous eyes hand in hand with the unforgiving smirk beaming.

“But I love it when you’re so desperate, you’ll be begging me to stop when you’re too sensitive”

“How many times can you cum before you can’t take it anymore?” Levi had a damn near ridiculous refractory period, in addition to his extraordinary strength and healing speed. You loved it and saw it as a fun challenge to push it.

“Had enough? More?” You asked the writhing body under you, smirk still strong on your face. Moans choked in his throat. His stomach drizzled with himself, the rest of him you wiped away from around your lips. The veins in his neck jumping as he turned to you, his chest rising and falling in steadying moves. The unmistakeable moisture filled eyes, water gathering at the corners in frustrated droplets. His muscles quivering under your touch, so flooded with sensitivity.

“You” he whined, voice becoming dryer and crying with desperation with each passing breathe.

“Oh you think you can go one more with me?” You’d allowed yourself very little. Your walls were throbbing against nothing. The tension that had filled your muscles the tightly wound fibres needed an outlet.

The exhausted body beneath you moved with a sudden refilled confidence and stability knocking you back. Your hands locked behind his neck; you were half sat up and supported through his hand at your lower back. A fresh accelerated fire fight raging behind the dark orbs of his eyes, you’d pushed him, he’d had enough. Your cry had the hint of a giggle finally having him inside you, cheeky smile under your bit lip.

“Stop being a tortuous brat, ride me, make yourself cum around me or swear to god”

“Swear to god what?” you challenged clenching around him. His response; hissing with regret. Over-sensitivity pained in his features; brows knitted together as yours widened with your smile.

“Mmm” the pained hum melted right in your ear. Melted chocolate dripping of a soft pink marshmallow. Unwavering stable hand still solid supporting you. Your weight cradled into him, fingertips digging into his shoulder blades. Finally allowing your hips to spiral, unwinding all the patience you’ve exercised. Currents of heated heavy breaths washed across your chest. He ceased to challenge with any more words. Chest pushed against his; heat gathering in moist droplets between you.

You stole as many messy kisses in-between your moans and whines as you could; Levi had resorted to mostly grunts, his hips movements becoming staggered, each thrust becoming harder but seemingly more exhaustive. You shifted your weight forward. You’d felt his muscles begin to shake. Levi was now on his back hair falling against the pillow as beautiful black spikes.

“God you feel so good” You whined rolling your hips. Hands planted cupped around his thighs, gripping hard nails leaving crescents in the muscled flesh. With your back arched, chest bare and vulnerable to the dragged out firm knead of Levi’s hands. His arms dropped to cradle your hips slowing them down.

“Too much for you baby?” You cooed sliding your hands to his chest, one creeping further to sit at his throat.

“Mmmhm…Don’t ……” He warned. You were never going heed his warning; you tightened your grip disobeying the pressure at your hips and rocking him freefalling off that cliff. His head rolled back harsh against the mattress. The intoxicating chimera of blissful pain bled into relief. Hearing the beautiful stuttering sounds and pants of Levi falling apart had you equally calling out his name with jaggged breaths.

You were gently coaxed out of sleep by floating plump kisses at your shoulders, a wandering breeze of his hand cloaking round your waist.

“Why does time go so fast” you mumbled, shifting onto your back. The cotton sheets were fresh against your exposed chest, cooled by the crisp air flowing in through the open window. High positive chirps from the birds living un-unbeknown to the burdens of the day ahead.

“Wait how come you’re not up and dressed and kicking me out of bed earlier than necessary?” The pleasant surprise had you smiling more sweetly than you’d like him to see and you felt more peace than you’d normally allow yourself.

The peace went to full blown serenity like a spring morning trickling stream when his lips half turned up followed by a soft chuckle oozing with acknowledgement.

“Jeez you moan when I up and leave and moan when I stay, am I ever going to get a break with you?” Levi huffed way to animatedly to suit him; he kicked off the sheets and went to lug himself out of the bed. You tugged him back towards you just off balance to get him on his back to secure your thighs at his hips.

“Do you honestly wanna break from this?” Flicking your hair up in your grip allowing it to trickle loosely out of your hand. You fought his weight trying to push you off, which when he actually re-calibrated his balance he managed. One hand weakly holding your wrists together above your head. You were met with silence and a smirk worthy of the first ring of hell. He bounced off and slid his white shirt on. Neither of you spoke again until you dragged yourself to the bathroom.

“Annoyingly even when you act a brat I still can’t stay away. I’d would be weird without you now”

“Exactly”

Wait what?

#attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #LEVI ACKERMAN #attack on titan fanfiction #attack on titan smut #levi x reder #captain levi #instinct

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misc-headcanons · 4 years

Note

heyyy I (hopefully) finally got a chance to make a request! uuhh I don't wanna be greedy and ask for a full on scenario, but could I maybe get a short little thing about Basil Hawkins flirting with a lady-reader through a fortune telling session? ://0 thank you v much! (if it's a completely uninspiring request you're more than free to pass on this since I haven't seen you write anything else for him, and maybe you'll have more fun with something else filling my request slot)

(Commissioned by @supernova-hcs-art ! Tysm, this is my first-ever commission and I'm very excited about it 😚)

Hawkins/F!Reader: Expression

Word Count: 1426

Basil Hawkins was a hard man to read, even to those closest to him. Whether he was happy, upset, scheming, or simply looking off absent-mindedly in the distance, he naturally kept his thoughts and emotions behind a stone-faced mask. Normally, he didn't view this as a problem; the less emotion he showed, the more he was recognized as a cold and calculated man that was not to be trifled with. When it came to a certain matter though, he hated just how difficult it was to broadcast what he was feeling: ____.

She was captivating in every way, always managing to make his mouth a bit dry and his pale skin the subtlest bit of pink just by speaking to him. He hoped that telling her how he felt would put him at ease, but he'd never confessed before; hell, he hadn't ever felt attracted to someone like this outside of a platonic appreciation of beauty or personality. Not only that, but he didn't want to overwhelm her by confessing out of the blue when she had no idea of what he was really feeling, thanks to that stoic expression of his. No, he needed to be subtle about this. And when ____ had asked him if he would give her a tarot reading, it seemed that fate had given him a golden opportunity.

Hawkins silently opened the door to his private cabin and let ____ inside to sit at a large circular table in one corner of the room. She marveled at the intricately painted art on the wooden table's face, which was a beautiful dark blue that was speckled with gold and silver stars, a brilliant sun, and a crescent moon across from it. It blended in perfectly with the rest of Hawkins's room, with its iridescent crystal statuettes and shards, indigo curtains, and the heavy-yet-soothing smell of incense smoke and lavender. "So," she remarked, turning to face Hawkins with a smirk. "This is where the magic happens?"

Hawkins shut the door, ignoring how white his knuckles were when he gripped the handle; how did she make his heart race like this with just one glimpse of her face? "It's...not exactly magic," he replied, walking to the chair opposite hers and taking his deck of cards out of his coat pocket. The familiar tingling of his fingertips as he held the cards eased some of the giddy anxiety in his chest after he'd heard her laugh at his response.

"Fair enough," ____ replied, settling into her chair and running her fingers over the image of the sun in front of her. "This is where the 'interpretations based off of probability and dozens of varying factors' happens." She watched Hawkins expertly shuffle his cards, admiring how graceful his movements were as the cards flipped through his slender, gloved fingers. "Is there anything I need to do? Just so you can get a better reading from me?"

Hawkins pursed his lips slightly as he had the idea to try flirting with her for the first time, just to subtly let her know how he felt about her. "Performing a tarot reading for someone I'm already familiar with doesn't require much," he replied. "And...we are very familiar with one another, are we not?"

____ shrugged and nodded. "I'd say so," she replied casually. "When you're fighting and traveling the seas together in close quarters on a ship, it'd be hard for us not to become close with each other."

Hawkins's face remained unchanged, but internally he felt a twinge of disappointment; apparently he'd been too subtle and indirect with that approach. He'd have to think of something a bit more bold. His attention turned to the cards, and he set down the shuffled stack in the center of the table. "Cut the cards with your dominant hand, please," he instructed. ____ complied and when she reached out to pick up the cards, her fingers brushed against his. Hawkins felt much warmer under his ruffled shirt collar, and he gently pulled down his neckline to try and get some relief.

____ noticed this and raised an eyebrow. "You're warm, too? It is kind of muggy in here," she remarked, setting the cut neck down to pull down her shirt a bit as well. "Might be the incense, though."

Hawkins was externally cool, but internally screaming. He wasn't the kind of man to luridly gaze at a woman at the first sign of showing extra skin, but...she was right across the table from him, pulling her neckline down; it was in his direct line of sight, dammit! His eyes quickly snapped to the cut deck and he picked up the card on top to begin arranging a tarot spread. "This will be a simple Celtic Cross arrangement of the cards," he began, laying the first card down.

____ peered down at, leaning forward a bit with her elbows on the table "This card describes your overall personality," Hawkins said. "The Queen of Wands: Passionate, creative, courageous…" He glanced up to see her reaction as he trailed off. "Beautiful…"

Hawkins saw ____'s eyebrows raise ever so slightly, and the corners of her lips turned up a bit. Their eyes met for a moment, and Hawkins quickly shifted his gaze to draw the next card. "What is crossing you, or simply what you're dealing with at the moment," he continued, clearing his throat a bit. "The Page of Cups usually indicates a message, one of love or happiness, or good news."

____ bit the inside of her cheek. "Hmm. Would wanting to confess something count? Or maybe…" She glanced sideways for a moment. "Maybe wanting someone else to say something to you?"

"Depending on the message, that could be what the card is referring to," Hawkins replied, wondering what--or who--she could be referring to. Hopefully as he continued the reading, he could get more answers. "What crowns you…"

He set down the third card, and ____ let out a small laugh at the image of the Lovers in front of her; she covered her mouth as she grinned at the image of a young couple embracing each other. "Oh my god, you've got to be kidding me," she sighed, looking across the table at Hawkins with a playful smile on her face. "I knew it, I knew you knew."

Hawkins tilted his head to the side and furrowed his brows; the knowing look in her eyes and mischievous smile confused him, and he felt as if he were hearing an inside joke that he didn't actually understand. "I...don't follow," he replied, not used to feeling completely lost like this.

____ pointed down at the cards. "The cards," she replied. "You didn't 'shuffle' them, you set all of these down to get me to say it first. I mean...really? 'A message of love', 'passionate', and the LOVERS card?" She held up the card between her fingers and waved it back and forth.

Say "it"? Say...what?

____ shook her head with a smile and rolled her eyes. "And you've still got that handsome poker face of yours, even after you got caught," she sighed. "I was always so nervous about admitting it, just because I wouldn't know how you'd take it. I mean, I didn't know if you'd feel the same way; I know that expressing yourself like that isn't your strong suit."

She set the card down in front of Hawkins and purposefully brushed her fingers against his before resting her hand over his own. When he saw the warm color in her cheeks, the way her eyes shined as she looked at him, and felt her fingers touch his…the realization of what she was saying slowly dawned on him. The only changes in his stoic expression were the more noticeable spots of pink on his cheeks, and how his normally heavy-lidded eyes widened to the size of saucers.

____ gently laughed again, surprised to see that for such a cold-and-collected pirate, Hawkins seemed to be floored by the smallest of touches. She already thought he was handsome, but now he was comically adorable. The color in his cheeks intensified, and she gently squeezed his hand. Hawkins regained his composure and was hesitant for only a moment before awkwardly squeezing her hand in reply. When he saw how her smile widened a bit, he felt the lovesick tightness in his chest from before fade into a warm and pleasant feeling. She definitely wasn't the only one whose fate was currently crowned by the Lovers...

#one piece #one piece scenarios #one piece scenario #hawkins #basil hawkins #mine #commission #female s/o

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alri-xo · 4 years

Text

Ship of Dreams (Titanic 1997 AU) | Chapter 1

Gif not mine

A/N: Hello everrrrybodyyyy so after about twelve hours, chapter 1 is here 🎉 and like... Yeah... I hope you enjoy reading this part bc it's gonna be pretty long. (Italics are short flash backs). Made a few tweaks in how the scenes flow but still, it gets there. Don't worry bout it. And I added links below for you to easily navigate between the current parts of the story, and I'll be doing that for all the other chapters for easier access. Channelling this Bucky (thanks babe @witchymegg ) and post serum Steve in this fic, but in whatever Jack and Fabrizio wore.

Pairing: Alexander Pierce x Reader

Warnings: Age gap?, rich people being rich people, social discrimination, gambling. Swearing... I am on the app so this has no page break

The whirring of the large helicopter was heard through out a far radius, Y/N and Meg seated inside and Diamond on the old woman's lap.

As one of the submarines were being swung over to begin another mission, Jared and Baron walked over, talking. Baron was rather aggressive in his perspective on meeting lil old lady Y/N, calling her an old liar. Saying that her claims that she is Y/F/N is false as she 'died' in the Titanic.

However, Jared was too set in finding the precious jewel to listen to Baron's claims. He'd care less of his friend now that he finally has a walking diary willing to tell the tale.

Jared's Point of View

"She's dead, McKinley... Look it up. She might be another person for vanity... She's an old goddamn liar..." Baron says harshly as the loud propellers of the heli fill the ears of everyone on deck.

"Y'know what, do something you fancy right now, Martins... This is what I fancy, and if you don't want in, go some place else..." I say sternly as I walked over to help the old nutshell out the Sea Stallion.

Claiming that she's dead is rather harsh, now that she's here. In a wheelchair, frail, basically looking like time wasn't too good to her, no... She's no fine wine.

But she is definitely a fine piece of the puzzle, for my reputation and for this shipwreck. Thousands of dollars will go to nothing and will prove Baron right.

I'm his boss. I should be right...

Right?

"Good day, Mrs. Treville... Welcome to the Dal'nomer... I'm Jared McKinley..." I greeted as she was carried down the heli in her wheel chair, a young woman following her as she descended from the small door.

"Hello, Mr. McKinley... This is my granddaughter, Meg..." She greets me as Meg reaches out to shake my hand for a brief moment, following her grandmother soon after, a fish bowl with a few small fishes inside being handed to me.

Who the hell brings their entire house in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean?

💎

"How's the stateroom, Mrs. Treville?"

"Lovely, Mr. McKinley... Very lovely..." she says happily as she looked around the room, "Have you met my granddaughter, Meg? She takes care of me..."

"Yes, we met a moment ago, grandma..." She smiles as I caught Baron roll his eyes and chuckle... I looked at him, making him stop.

"Oh yes..." she says remembering me meeting her granddaughter. A short pause filled the air for a moment, as I looked at the mass of picture frames on top of the bedside table.

I mean, it's pretty inconvenient and her actions are pretty different than any old lady I ever met.

"That's nice... I like to bring my pictures with me... And Diamond of course..." she says pertaining to her white Pomeranian, seated on the foot of ther bed.

Old ladies... Quite peculiar specimens.

But that's not the thing I'm after. I'm after that big juicy jewel, and the story behind it. The safe combination, how did Pierce grab hold of it, of such a controversial piece of pressurized carbon.

"Anything else you need?"

"I would like to see my drawing."

💎

Reader's Point of View

We entered the lab. The white paint prominent all around. Technicians in their white garments as they fiddled with the tech around them, like children playing with their dolls.

They lead me to a place in the lab, a rectangular dish on top of the cold, busy table. A drawing of a woman submerged in the clear water.

"Lay there... Just like that for me..." his steel blue eyes focused as he directed my form, bare flesh but a large gem on my chest, dark as the rim around his irises.

His large hands held his pad of paper as he sketched in dark grey strokes.

His dark brown locks loose on his face as he glanced at me.

His muse.

It puts a smile on my face, as I remember how I was too innocent and certain to love someone for the grade of good, not knowing any better.

Jared nears to me, holding a black and white picture in his hands, the 'Heart of the Ocean.'

"Louis the Sixteenth, wore a fabulous stone called the Blue Diamond of the Crown, it disappeared in 1792. About the same time Louis lost everything from the neck up..." Jared said as he sat beside me, showing me the picture... I just listened to him and the gem's origins.

I always knew it cost a fortune, but now I just realized a thing that I felt back then... A diamond fit for royalty on a girl like me, marrying for what good reason?

It's a gorgeous piece, truly. However, by what Jared is saying, it is one for that of the Olympic Dieties.

"... Today, it would be more expensive than a Hope Diamond," his friend Baron nodded, agreeing that such is worth a fortune.

All I could think was I was both lucky but undeserving of having to wear it. A thing worth more than my whole existence is wanted by these people for whatever reason. I wouldn't want to jump into conclusions.

"Oh, I remember how heavy this was..." I said touching the picture of the necklace and looking ay the drawing, "I only wore it this once..."

Meg looks at me reluctantly, raising an eyebrow, "Do you really believe that's you, Grandma?"

I smiled at her and chuckled, "Why yes, dear... I was quite the looker..."

Jared smiles as my granddaughter giggles behind me. All is well on my part.

However, I can sense that one of the men, Baron, is skeptical of me. I wouldn't want to think so paranoid but, a man like him looks at someone like me differently.

Jared goes on with his story, and I listen, any rational human should do the same, "We tracked in down through insurance records but it was deemed confidential... Do you know who the claimant was, Y/N?"

"I believe it may be someone with Pierce..." I say in a lively tone. But that surname irks me.

Pierce...

"Ding ding ding! The father, New York personality, worked for the Navy as one of it's top asset and next part of his story, became one of the most known socialites of his time in the US. For his son, Alexander Pierce, heir of all that cash, splurged on the necklace during his trip to France..."

He paused a little, "For his fiancee, you... One week before the Titanic set sailed from England. Claim was made after the ship sank... Meaning, it went down with the ship."

Meg looked at the date, dictating it to Jared as he snapped his fingers.

"So if your grandma is who she says she is, it means that she wore the necklace when the Titanic sank..." Baron butted in like an omniscient being, but I don't really mind. What is there to mind anyway?

I can't force someone into believing who I say I am. I have gone through enough in my 100 years of existence and that's a thing I learned along the way, before I rode that ship. I couldn't force even my mother who I think I am... When she was alive of course.

Jared smiles at me like the Cheshire cat, eyes gleaming with anticipation, "And that makes you my new bestfriend."

💎

We went forth to another part of the lab. In front of me stood a table, antiques submerged in the Atlantic laid out in front of me.

It felt as if I was travelling through time, in my younger years. My glory days. The mirror looked in shape, though faded a little and cracked, it's still the mirror I once held.

"My reflection is a little different..." I smiled as I set it down. I took another antique from the table, a hair piece this time and inspected it. It still dawns its jewel toned colors, except it has faded through the test of time.

All these items still vivid in my memory. How new they were and the materials that made up every piece on this table, were so rare and priceless. It's extraordinary how they are still in mint condition, after such a long time.

The people connected to these items however, didn't stand the test of time very well. They come and go.

"Are you ready to go back to Titanic?"

💎

Third Person Point of View

"Live from 12,000 feet," Baron begins with his lecture, a simulation of what happened to the Titanic, the video running the events that lead to the sunken disaster, now at rest in the Atlantic.

Jared thought she doesn't need to know this, but Y/N insisted. She said she was curious, despite her thoughts on this skeptic, Mr. Martins, it would be rude to decline. Men can share.

Y/N, seemed facinated with the tech around her, showing the bottom of the ocean but seemed interested at a certain part of the sunken ship, which made Jared pay attention to her expressions, to unlock memories that may lead him to a successful mission.

He simply can't let every bit of this pass. Not a damn chance.

Baron went on and on... making sounds along the visuals on screen...

"Morse code, DIT DIT DIT..."

"Sank on the bottom like junk, BOOOM..."

"Pretty cool, huh?" Baron says happily, smiling at her, ancient eyes stoic as it ended.

"Thank you for that fine forensic analysis, Mr. Martins. Of course the experience of it was far less... Scientific..." she says, her voice frail, but willing to tell what it's like. Willing to be a primary source of information, a walking book... Diary rather.

"Will you share it with us?" Jared asks, preparing the tape recorder.

Y/N stands from her chair, looking around the monitors, the sad ruins of the ship below. Algae and sea garbage on its once metal hand rails and deck.

Reader's Point of View

I looked at the ruins of the ship from the monitors. Every part of it, every set of stairs, every surface of the ship, I see people, from all walks of life. The door, now rusted and covered in debris and underwater plants.

"Good day, Ms. Y/L/N..." a man says, who works in the Titanic opens the door for me, metal tinted in gold as its windows, the varnished wood engraved with expertly made carvings.

Futher past the door, the ivory staircase on full display. Passengers of first-class in their fine garments and black suits, up and down its grand halls.

It all flashes in my head, before my eyes. All the opulence, the lush life... And how lives clinged to the metal rails for dear life.

I felt my face get hot and my eyes burn as tears ran down my face, my mouth slightly agape as I covered it and gasp in air, as it drowning in my memories and in my emotions.

Meg's face paints to worry, as she takes my wheelchair, "I'm taking her to rest."

"NO!"

My voice strong and in authority. I called Mr. McKinley, and I am here to give it to him. Not for him to aid in my old age.

I sat down with the monitors behind me as the people in the room settled down, Jared holding a tape recorder in his hands.

"It's been 84 years-"

"Just tell us what you can... Anything at all..." Jared interrupts as I began to tell of my experience. Took aback, I thought to myself...

Does he really want me to say what I have to say or he just wants something else out of me?

"Do you want to hear it or not, Mr. McKinley?" I ask sternly, he falls quiet signalling me to continue.

"It's been 84 years, and I can still smell the fresh paint. The china has never been used. The sheets have never been slept in... Titanic was called, the 'Ship of Dreams,' and it was... It really was..."

Third Person Point of View

Everyone was smiling ear to ear, hugging each other as they boarded the large ship. People segregated, the first-class passengers need no such inspection, just by the looks of them.

Third-class however, needs to go through inspection. Health, appearance... Certain things were contagious back in the day.

In the sea of people, old fashioned automobiles honked loudly, the aristocrats. Easily distinguished as gold curls surrounded the edges of the vehicle's doors and windows, one after the other. It's contents may be people or their stack of belongings.

To these aristocrats and socialites, there is no in between when it comes to needs and wants. Every want is a need.

Reader's Point of View

So this is a ship, they say? It's but a big boat to me... Looks like any other ship. So much for taking me here when I could've lived my life on land like a normal girl.

I reached out my gloved hand to the chauffer, helping me off the vehicle. I looked through my wide brimmed hat, the Titanic in front of all the people bidding goodbye.

To these people, this is the grandest ship in their eyes and hearts. For me, who had a fair share of being on different ships, this just looks like a joke to me.

So much for bringing me here, Pierce.

"I don't see what all the fuss is about... It doesn't look bigger than the Mauretania..." I say to Alexander as he stepped down the vehicle.

"You can belittle all other things, Y/N but not the Titanic..." he pressed as if he himself already entered the ship, "It's over a hundred feet longer than Mauretania and far more luxurious... You're gonna love it..."

I walked forth a little to give space to my mother, Katherine, Karen for short. I call her that, but without her knowledge as she likes to make herself be heard and she wants it exactly how she wants it.

"Your daughter's far too hard to please, Katherine..." Alexander says as she helps her off the vehicle.

May I add, she's a feisty one.

"So this is the ship they say is unsinkable, huh?" She says looking at the ship, raising her thin eyebrow. Her hands tucked inside her hand warmers.

"Yes, it is unsinkable. God himself can't sink this ship." He beams as my mother looks at him impressed.

A small man approached Alexander, telling him that the luggage should go to the main entrance around the ship somewhere. He hands him a good tip, a more than good tip. His eyes grow large as Alexander tells him to look for Brock Rumlow, his right hand.

It's funny because his right hand man is nearer to my age than he is.

Choices.

We head off to the ship, my mother's arm linked to Alexander's, looking more like a couple than how we are meant to look the part as I walked passed the third-class passengers being inspected.

We walked on the ramp, the water under it and the people below us.

Upon entrance, Alexander made me link my arm with his. Thanks, mother for finally thinking that you set me up with this person and not you setting yourself up with him.

Although that last part sounds better to me. He's as old as someone like him should be.

It was the ship of dreams... to everyone else. To me it was a slave ship. Taking me to the the United States in chains.

Outwardly I was everything a well brought up girl should be. Inside, I was screaming.

💎

Third Person Point of View

Forget the ship for now, the focus should be inside the pub. A pub full of people from the working class, drinking liquor, good enough that their money can afford, as cheap prostitutes flirted with the men for a quick buck for a bite to eat.

Four men, playing a serious game of poker. Every last bit of coin they had, were on the table. One takes a drink of his brown liquor as he speaks in Swedish.

"Du dumma, satsar du på våra biljetter! (You dumbass, you bet our tickets!)" He says to his companion who snaps his attention to him.

"Du förlorade alla våra pengar och jag försöker få tillbaka dem. Välj nu ett jävla kort! (You lost all our money and I'm trying to get them back. Now pick a damn card!)," One of them says gritting his teeth at his friend, who was playing all he got.

One of them puffs a cigarette, his grey blue eyes focused on his cards and the man across the table. Caring less of his brunette locks getting in the way of his vision.

"Hit me again, Ivan..." he asks as one of the Swedish men slip him a card and he takes it.

His blonde companion, begins to worry a little. Thinking they bet everything and are about to lose everything and stay in Southampton for another long time before they get lucky.

He notices, his voice in a low, raspy whisper, "Don't worry buddy, we've got nothing to lose..."

"We have nothing to lose because we literally have nothing, Bucky..." he says worried, as his friend bet everything they had, except for their clothes...

The ship horn toots its mighty note, alerting the gamblers, Bucky looks around, his competition sweating seeds off his forehead.

"Moment of truth..." he begins looking up at the four other men, anticipation and worry painted their faces, "Steve..."

The blonde lays out his deck, "Nothing..."

He continues, "Ludvig..."

The man lays out his deck, "Oh, squat..." he continues to the other one, "Ivan, two pair... Hmm... Sorry, Steve..."

Steve's face pales, he begins to sweat buckets... Fear rushing over him as he feels cold, palms sweaty.

"W-we lost? I won't be able to see ma another while... Darn it, Bucky..." he begins to stammer and curse... Thinking luck was not on his side...

"Sorry, Steve... You lost and I WON! FULL HOUSE, BUDDY!" Bucky cheers as Steve stands up happily hugging him, kissing the two tickets, "We're going home!"

Profanities streamed from the lips of the two other men who bet their tickets. The poker gods not on their side.

The taller man stood up, over 6 feet tall, maybe 6 foot 7, and grabbed Bucky by the collar. Bucky closed his eyes to take the impact of the large hand balled up in a fist. Instead, he punches his companion, knocked out like a light.

"We're going home, Steve!!"

"America, here we come!!"

Their celebration came to a halt, the pub owner cutting in looking at the two men.

"You're not going to America... Titanic is, in five minutes..." he says pointing to the clock, every second wasting away.

The two men exchanged looks and rushed out the pub, all their belongings they stuffed in their bags like sacks.

They ran in the crowd chasing time, as Steve cheered excitedly as they were coming home.

They ran and ran, cutting between the crowd of people and the honking automobiles. They skipped the line for inspection and went straight to the third-class passenger entrance, Bucky waving the tickets at the guard.

"Passed through inspection?" The guard asks, like he does for every passenger.

"Don't have lice, don't worry... We're both Americans..." He says flushed and panting, waiting to get on the ship to their quarters.

The guard was testy, but there was a sliver of trust shining through, "Alright, come aboard..."

They entered the ship, but it came to a halt. The guard passed the ticket on to another guard to inspect them, to see if they are not posers.

He begins saying the names, "Eklund and... Norberg..."

He says, raising a brow... he thought, 'these don't look like Eklunds and Norbergs...'

He hands them the tickets, granting them entrance to the RMS Titanic.

"Come on, Ivan!!" They ran in the corridor, whooping in victory...

"We are the luckiest sons of bitches alive!"

They quickly run up the metal stair case, excitedly throught the crowd of people finding their way in the ship. They busted out the door as they stood along the people on the poop deck.

"BYEEEE" Bucky yells out to the crowd, as if someone important to him is in the crowd.

Steve looks at him puzzled, "You hung out with some skank?" He asks, knowing that Bucky's a smooth wolf where ever he went.

Bucky shakes his head, chuckling then looking at him in disbelief, "NO, Steve... It's a thing!!!"

Steve shrugged and started waving at the crowd as the ship moved away from the dock.

"Bye, everybodyyy!!! I may or may not forget youuuu!!" Steve yells to the crowd as the ship set sail to New York, back to their country and to their homes.

<- Previous | Next ->

A/N: CUUUUT so this is chapter 1 of Ship of dreams... You finally reached the bottom of this chapter... Thanks for reading I hope you enjoyed it 💕 keep saaafe

-Alri

Taggies 💕 (ASK ME IF YOU WANT IN)

@witchymegg @underworldqueen13 @amisutcliff @luna4501 @likeit-or-leaveit @vhsbarnes @uglipotata72829

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ymir-me · 4 years

Text

Soulmate dry your eye (’cause soulmates never die)

A/N: Hello everyone, happy Royai Week!!! This is my first English fic and I made it for the “Old Wounds” prompt, I hope you’ll enjoy it! Thank you @the-inarticulate-chikin for being my friend and beta, love you so much <3

AO3

@royaiweek

Summary: Fuhrer Roy Mustang has to deal with some old wounds, luckily General Riza Hawkeye is always by his side.

The mess hall was crowded as it usually was at noon, the familiar sound of chattering breaking into the hallway when Fuhrer Roy Mustang opened the dark wooden doors. It was so loud he couldn’t hear the storm raging outside anymore, the rain had been pouring down since the early morning and the wind was so strong it bended a tree he could see from his window.

His new rank came with responsibilities, sure, but with some privileges too, like a personal chef and a private room where to eat his lunch in peace and quiet. He had never took advantage of this opportunity once and continued having lunch with his subordinates at the same, old, chipped table. He merged in that crowd sneaking past people, trying to avoid being recognised and start the usual chain of salutes, small talk and unnecessary gossiping.

Waiting for his turn to take his bowl of stew, he scanned the room looking for his team and finally spotted Havoc, Catalina, Fuery, Falman and Breda, uproariously laughing their hearts out at a joke, and judging by the expression painted on Havoc’s face, he was the victim of that joke. The old lady working at the cafeteria greeted him and served his portion, that looked slightly more abundant than the others’, and handed him a little loaf of bread to match it. With his usual womaniser smirk, he thanked her and went his way with his fragrant stew bowl, already savouring the tasty meat and fresh vegetables.

Suddenly, a sharp pain struck through his right hand making him lose grip on the tray, which fell on the floor loudly causing everyone to turn towards his direction, thus ruining his undercover mission. The stew spilled everywhere and the bread started filling with the hot liquid. Not that he cared about the mess in that moment, kneeling on the floor, squeezing hard the aching hand with the other, his breathing quickened and teeth clamped. That pain wouldn’t go away and latched onto every one of his nerves, strangling them. He could feel them throbbing, begging him to set them free from that torment.

Those were the wounds that King Bradley inflicted on him with his swords, moment before opening the Portal of Truth. The Philosopher’s Stone he used to heal Havoc’s legs and to restore his own sight had been long used by Dr. Marcoh and its power wore out before he could use it on his hands. Or General Hawkeye’s throat. Roy had accepted it, fully confident he could have healed all the same. He was wrong, of course. He later discovered how delicate hands could be and how hard was to recover from literal holes carved in his palms. A small gathering of people approached him, visibly worried for their Fuhrer’s well-being, but before he could even speak a familiar voice stepped in, inviting everyone to go back to their business. Hawkeye squatted in front of him, over the stew puddle, and rested a hand on his shoulders.

“Perhaps you need a hand, sir?” she whispered teasingly. He rewarded her with a strangled laughter, finally lifting his gaze from the ground.

“Make it two, Hawkeye. They both hurt like a bitch right now.”

“That’s what I thought. Let’s go to the infirmary, sir.”

Roy had always hated the infirmary and yet he had to see it far more than he would have liked. The sour green and white walls were painted recently and he wondered why they chose the same colors again. Shouldn’t they ask the Fuhrer first?

“Sit, sir. I’ll be right back with some ice for your hands,” Riza gestured towards the doctor’s chair and he obeyed, but sat on the desk. The General let out a defeated sigh but didn’t argue, she then vanished behind the door of the ice-house shuffling the medicine vials, looking for some ice cubes.

The pain in Roy’s hands had numbed down, turning into a dull ache reverberating through his fingers and wrist, up until the elbow. Trying to give himself some relief, he tried to massage the center of his right palm, where the reddish scar was, failing miserably since the other hand wasn’t collaborating either. Letting out a frustrated groan, he abandoned his task shortly after, and started scanning the room to focus on something that wasn’t that pesky sensation.

Hawkeye finally came back, mission accomplished, and grabbing a clean handkerchief from the inside of her uniform she wrapped the ice in it.

“Open your hands, sir,” she ordered, handing him the cold, little bundle. She rested the back of his hand over hers and put the ice on his right palm, then grabbed the other hand and placed it over the cloth. She gingerly cupped them both, helping him holding them in place. The cool sensation of the wet handkerchief soothed the pain instantly and the Fuhrer sighed, relieved.

“Thank you,” he said, sternly. “I really made a fool out of myself, didn’t I?”

“I don’t think so, sir. You can’t control the weather and barometric changes make the old wounds hurt, it’s a normal bodily response.”

“I suppose, it happens when it rains. I guess water still makes me useless,” Roy grinned.

She gave him a fleeble smile and fell silent for a few minutes, both enjoying the companionable silence, lost in their own thoughts. Riza’s hands were warm and soft against his and the contrast with the cold ice was giving him an unfamiliar yet pleasant sensation. He could feel his hands going number and number, to the point he couldn’t feel his palms and fingers anymore.

“Are you feeling any better, sir?” Riza’s voice was almost a whisper, as if she didn’t want to break that comfortable atmosphere the silence had created. Roy lifted his gaze and found hers already on him: he was the Flame Alchemist, his flames could create an intolerable heat, but her deep brown eyes were threatening to melt him on the spot, like one of the ice cubes he was currently holding.

“I can’t feel them anymore, to be honest. I guess that’s positive,” he shrugged, still not retracting his own hands, seemingly wanting to absorb Riza’s body heat until he caught fire himself. Because she, her body and her soul, reminded him of fire whose tongues could both warm and mistreat with its licks, motherly and dangerous, both blaze and hotbed.

“Good, we can switch to some exercises to warm the hand up,” Riza’s hands opened his, carefully removing the dripping handkerchief. She quickly tossed it in the sink and sat again on the chair facing the desk on which Roy was sitting.

“You know how much I hated those exercises,” he eyed her, lifting an eyebrow. “I don’t even remember how to do them.”

“Well, good thing I do remember. Let me help, sir. Please,” she said, and it sounded more like a pleading. Roy could sense something was wrong with her, he should have known better: she was acting weird since they had arrived at the infirmary, her body language betraying her stoic expression; that vein on her temple raging was proof of her uneasiness.

A thunder shook the building, the floor trembled below their feet and the rain started pouring harder and faster than before. The wind slammed the window open, Riza felt her back and hair dampening with raindrops but didn’t move from the chair she was sitting on.

“You’re gonna catch a cold if you keep staying like this.”

“I’m so sorry I couldn’t save you from that madness,” she finally spoke, her voice no more than a whisper. She looked so tiny now, sunk in her shoulders, sheltered by her winged fringe. “I’m sorry I failed you… I’m sorry I couldn’t follow you into hell.”

Roy froze on the spot, flashes of those black hands dragging him through the Portal of Truth, all those information forcefully shoved in his brain, the world around him suddenly going from blinding white to pitch black.

He shook his head lightly, trying to get a grip on himself. Last thing he wanted was to make her feel worse than she was already feeling. A whirlwind flared up in his mind, he couldn’t stand to see her in that sorry state, but what was bothering him more than everything was that she was right. What he saw was actual hell, and he was glad she didn’t get to see it. She had already seen enough of it.

He lowered his eyes to his hands, her thumbs were drawing circles over the red scars while applying a light pression, expanding the movement gradually until she reached fingers and wrists. She knew what to do, she had followed every medical examination attentively back when they were at the hospital, both recovering from their wounds. Riza made sure to learn every stretch of the fingers, hands and arms, every point where to apply pressure, and was meticulously repeating them by heart.

In those small gestures there was everything he meant to her: hope, devotion, redemption, friendship, connection… Love.

“You know, you were there,” When he spoke, he couldn’t help but to touch her hair, pushing the damp strands from her forehead and cheeks. She lifted her head, startled by his words; her cheeks had dried up already and her expression shifted into a giant question mark, which Roy found very funny since it was hard taking her by surprise. “Over my Portal of Truth there were engraved two serpents and a Sun, which looked really similar to those on your back. The Elrics told me their Portals were different from mine.”

“That’s just the Flame Alchemy,” she argued, arching an eyebrow.

He scoffed, for the first time in his life he was about to checkmate Riza Hawkeye. “You didn’t do your homework, General. Those serpents are meant to represent water and femininity, the White Queen in alchemy embodies these elements and she’s also seen as calculated and controlled. Does it sound familiar to you? You were there, Riza. You were there with me, you’re always with me.”

A tiny smile finally dawned on her face, softening her expression. She stopped massaging his hands and started bending genty each finger and once she was done, she switched over to the other hand, giving it the same ministration.

Then. Then she did something Roy had never expected: Riza drew his hands near her face and placed the tiniest, sweetest kisses on both his palm, over the scars.

And Roy felt like he was on fire. If she really was water, in that moment she was boiling hot. He knew he was blushing like a teenager in love and he also knew she noticed, because of the playful smile she was giving him.

“Thank you, sir. I appreciate your words. Do you feel better now?”

He could tell how relieved was feeling now. He squeezed lightly her hands in his, dwelling in their warmth for a few seconds more. Then, he let them go. The storm had finally calmed down, but she was still wet from the rain poured down on her back and hair.

“I am, thank you. Now let’s go get some lunch, I’m starving,” he said while making his way to the infirmary door, eager to take a breath of fresh air and calm his racing heart.

“Yes, sir. Can I ask you a question?” He turned towards her and nodded, encouraging her to go on.

“What does the Sun mean? And why was it engraved along with the serpents?”

Roy swallowed, caught off guard by her way-too-specific question. Should he explain that the Sun, associated with the Red King, was meant to represent him and thus the intertwining of those elements was specifically addressing the marriage of the two? No, like hell he was explaining that. He felt his ears flushing even harder than before. It looked like Hawkeye was about to checkmate him once again. In that moment, he realised he had forgotten she had studied alchemy at some point in her life; she had intentionally cornered him. The only choice was to leave the game. “Dry up and meet me at the mess hall, Hawkeye. I can’t run a country on an empty stomach.”

He quickly closed the door behind him before she could get the chance to reply and heard her unmistakable, clever and crystal clear laughter expanding through the room on the other side.

P.S.:

That part on Riza’s tattoo was inspired by this video, if you haven’t seen it yet GO SEE IT NOW IT’S THE BEST!!!

Title taken from the lyrics of “Sleeping with Ghosts” by Placebo

#royaiweek20 #royai #soulmate dry your eye ('cause soulmates never die)#royai week 2020

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tact-and-impulse · 4 years

Text

Some fic for @shepherds-of-haven and the Lovelace Day event! Upped the challenge for myself and combined 2 prompts for each...MC. Sorry I have eight.

Under the cut or on AO3.

I. while pretending to be a couple / in a garden full of flowers

The house was quaint and picturesque, with a gravel path leading to the front door and boxes of pansies under the bay window. The servant led them around the building, under the arch that led to the expansive garden. “This way, please.”

Flat stones marked winding pathways for visitors to traverse, under the shade of tall trees and even over an artificial stream. In one grassy area, a few tables were set up with refreshments. People milled about, enjoying the scenery. All around, flowers bloomed in abundance, in swathes of color and scent.

“It’s a beautiful place.” He commented.

“It’s even more so at night. Perhaps, we’ll see you again at such a time for you and your…lover?”

“That’s right!” Briony tightened her hold on his arm, nervously laughing. “We’ll definitely think about it.”

“Yes, and seeing more will help us decide.” Well, if they succeeded on this mission, there wouldn’t be a need to return. Somewhere, underneath the natural beauty, there was a black market organization selling magical artifacts to any buyer. With a quick scan, the vast majority here were Diminished. There were a number of older Ket too. Every stoic, weathered face was reminiscent of his father, a cousin, a neighbor. The hollow ache of self-loathing awoke in his chest, the edges of his vision fading…

“Honey, do you need to sit down?” Briony’s murmur cleared the fog, and her violet eyes were brimming with concern.

“Sorry, I was a little dizzy.” He squeezed her hand, finding genuine comfort. “But I feel better now.”

“That’s good. Let me know if it happens again, okay?” The concern hadn’t subsided but her expression was warm and she tugged him down one of the paths. So, what are we looking for?

Intel said there’s a hedge maze, but we should probably save that for later. For now, let’s keep an eye on anyone fishy.

Got it! She gave a slight nod, and he couldn’t suppress a smile.

He was still learning, but he could check anything that sparked interest with his Binding magic. And if needed, Briony could cause a distraction or get them out of a pinch, without their swords. The issue was that the garden was usually filled with groups or pairs, hence the necessity to pretend to be a loving couple. Lavinet had bemoaned not being able to join the mission and took it upon herself to outfit them. He was unaccustomed to his tailored attire and hoped he wasn’t showing it, but Briony looked pretty. Her pink hair was bound with a burgundy velvet ribbon, in the same shade as her knee-length dress. She was openly enjoying the garden, ponytail swishing with every head turn.

They were soon in contact with some Mages, claiming to have a collective date. They made small talk, delivering the cover story about their relationship. The sun was directly overhead, and Briony wiped her forehead.

“Are you thirsty?” He asked, though they hadn’t finished talking to the Mages. “I can get us some drinks.”

“Yeah, that would be great. I’ll be right here.” Don’t worry about me, I can handle it!

“Alright.” Reluctantly, he located the nearest table and picked up two flutes of vytas. How’s it going?

I don’t think they’re part of the organization, but I’m not sure if I’m selling it by myself. I’m so sorry.

It’s okay, this isn’t easy. And we can still make a recovery. He didn’t spill a drop as he headed back as quickly as he could. Briony was visibly tense, biting her bottom lip.

“Here you are, love.” He said and simultaneously thought. I apologize for what I’m about to do. Try not to break the glass.

As her fingers accepted the drink and her brow furrowed, he bent his head down and brushed his mouth over hers in a lingering kiss. One-sided at first, before she began to shyly respond.

Someone coughed. He pulled back from Briony, and he was genuinely embarrassed. The group apparently thought they wanted to be alone, and with teasing remarks, they wandered away.

Briony immediately downed her vytas. The glass was intact but a hairline crack had appeared above her thumb.

As for him, he was unexpectedly warm. His previous kisses were on missions like these, and yet, this felt new. Wait. Briony had amnesia, so had that essentially been her first kiss? “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, sure! I’m totally fine. I, um.” Her lips were very red…and soft. He forcefully dragged his stare back to her eyes. “Let’s keep going?”

He blinked. “With…?”

“With walking! In this garden.”

Of course. The mission. He swallowed. “Right.”

She took his arm again, but as they resumed their search, he couldn’t put her gliding touch out of his mind.

II. in the middle of battle / during an unexpected rainstorm

The sudden downpour was definitely not appreciated right now. Her brown hair was plastered to her ears, and rivulets trailed down her nose and temples. Mud squelched under her boots as she headed to the rendezvous point.

Hopefully, other people had already made it there. An unforeseen complication had forced the Shepherds to scatter, Blade ordering them to regroup at several known locations. The enemy had retreated for now, but the tension made her tighten her hold on her sword.

There! An old ruin of mossy stone provided shelter from the rain, and from what she recalled, it had to be one of the designated places. She scrubbed the water out of her eyes and hurried her pace.

As she approached, the sounds and sight of a clash met her. Two figures, fighting next to the ruin. A flash of lightning illuminated their faces, one unfamiliar and the other stoically focused. Blade. She felt relief, then dread at what appeared in her peripheral vision. A shadow, lurking in the haze.

She had improved lately, but fighting wasn’t her greatest strength and to be honest, it wasn’t her preferred option in a pinch. She only needed an instant to summon her magic, compressing a spell into her voice.

“Stop.”

The shadow froze in place, and she took the opportunity to strike. Just as the body slumped, she heard her name. The raindrops ceased as Blade lifted his cloak over her. His low voice was reassuring. “It’s good to see you.”

“Same to you.” She smiled and then laughed when she realized how soaked he was. “We can talk more if we’re both dry. Let’s go.”

They took shelter and kept watch at opposite ends. Ongoing communication revealed that about half of their party had reached another rendezvous point, and the other half were heading to theirs. Blade nodded at the information. “Understood. Did you run into anyone else?” He addressed this question to her.

“No, I haven’t. I hope they’re okay.” She rubbed her hands together, dispelling the numbness with friction.

“They know what needs to be done.” Nevertheless, the slightest crease between his eyebrows showed his worry. “But you seem to dislike the rain.”

“I always take storms seriously. I guess it’s because of years of living by the sea.” She lightly said.

“It makes sense. Would you ever go back there, if you could?”

“I don’t know. I think about it sometimes, but mostly about how I could have done more or what might have been.” The cold seeped through her wet clothing, and she hugged herself. “Anyway, it would probably be a very lonely trip.”

Blade looked conflicted, drawing one step closer. That became a pivot as a silhouette leapt out of the mist. Unsheathing her sword, she was pulled backwards by another. She switched her grip and stabbed deep, the groan of pain a good sign. Blade returned to follow through, killing her attacker. The body fell with a wet thud, and a nonverbal casting ensured it was flung faraway.

“Good work. It’s not over though; the others are having a hard time.” He readied to move. Distant voices echoed from the direction of the second rendezvous point. “We’ll have to be careful.”

She shook her head. “I’ll wait for the others.”

He was immediately concerned. “Are you injured?”

“No, but I’d only slow you down and you can be stealthier on your own.”

“That’s not true.”

“It won’t be long before everyone else comes here.” She argued. He didn’t react but she refused to budge. “I can handle myself, and we can regroup again later. But we need everyone to be alive. If it means we need to split up, that’s what we need to do, Commander.” She intended for the professionalism to ground him. Both of them. As much as she hated referencing their positions, the mission took priority.

At first, he remained unreadable. She was willing to wait; although out of practice, she was accustomed to dealing with stubborn Ket men. Then, his eyes flickered with approval. He suddenly ducked, and she thought they were being ambushed again when he kissed her. Firm but fleeting, and not cold at all. As she tried to process what had happened, he stared at her for a moment, expression affectionate.

“Everyone includes you as well. Stay safe, and thank you, Captain.” He smirked, ruffled her hair, and sprinted back into the storm.

“W-wait, uh…” She stammered belatedly. Her knees buckled, and she placed a hand against the wall for support. Her own heartbeat rivaled the intensity of the thunder overhead. She wasn’t sure how long she remained in a daze, until Trouble announced his presence.

“Hey, you made it!” A pause for scrutiny. “Why’s your face so red?”

III. surrounded by fire / shut the other one up for a minute

“You really are the strangest one. Every time I think you’re out of surprises, you manage to come up with another.” The voice was all too familiar.

She coughed, squinting past the smoke to see Croelle, looking as if he had stepped out of the ring of flames. Sparks floated around his visage.

“Oh. It’s you again.”

His lip curled in a sneer. “Is that what you have to say for yourself, when you’ve made this mess?”

“Not a mess. Just an…unfortunate side effect.”

“A side effect blazing beyond your control.” He stepped closer, looming over her, yellow gaze relentless. “You never asked me whether this little side project of yours was possible.” His tone wasn’t judgmental, just curious. “Was it because you didn’t want to know, to cling to your belief of free will? Or was it because you already knew the answer and blinded yourself to the inescapable truth?”

She did not speak. Maybe, it was a little of both. Maybe, it was neither. Ambiguity was a way of life for her. She had wandered aimlessly for years with only her pistol for protection and company; it had taken the threat of execution for her to commit to the Shepherds. But she had gained knowledge, especially with regards to her own abilities. Since her Veiled Circle days, there was a depth to magic that fascinated her, and Shifting magic provided limitless possibility. Experimenting with it occupied her free time, plucked at her thoughts during patrols and missions. Danger couldn’t dissuade her.

The temperature was becoming uncomfortable, perspiration beading at her hairline and collar. She switched to her first language in a brief lapse. “Servori. What does it matter?”

“Part of watching the Shepherds means I need to be informed. Your motive is a valuable piece of information. And my employer thinks you’re unpredictable. At the moment, there’s some investment in keeping you breathing.”

In the end, it was about work. “I see. However, I might not be alive for much longer if this keeps burning.” She directed some of her remaining magic to extinguish a portion of the fire, but it wasn’t enough. She didn’t have the necessary skill.

“Are you asking for my help?”

There was no use in denying; above all, she had to survive. She sighed. “Yes.”

“I want to hear you say please.”

She leveled him with a deadpan stare. “Why?”

“I’ve earned your gratitude more times than I care to remember.” That meant he did remember. “And not once have I been repaid.”

She lifted her chin, annoyance growing. He was asking for this now? Even after multiple odd meetings where he popped in and out, she still didn’t understand him. He wasn’t quite a Mage, he worked for a mysterious party, he knew her name without asking. And he had the power to make Inquisitors listen to him. He was puzzling, and for once, she cursed her habit of fixating on difficult problems.

“You’re too elusive to properly repay.” She evaded.

“If it weren’t for me, you’d be in the Chrysalis. One word is the very least I’m owed, for dealing with you and your reckless desire for troublesome situations. The tavern was one, and then you had to-”

He was talking way too much, and the logical course of action was to shut him up. As she reached out and cupped his face, there was a novel flash of confusion in his eyes before she kissed him.

And he was still trying to talk. “You…fu…listen…” His resistance only made her more determined, and finally, he gave in. One hand wrapped around her neck, the other maintained a bruising hold on her hip. Fine. If he wanted to lead, she’d go along with the flow.

She’d never done this before, and she left no room for fantasies in her mind. A kiss was supposed to be romantic, Shery liked to say, but in this case, it bought a solid minute of quiet. And it was her victory, she shut him up. That was enjoyable enough. Also, the curious tingle under her skin was compelling, but she was running out of air. She released him, rocking back on her heels. Interesting. Indignant shock wasn’t a bad look on him. She arched an eyebrow. “Are you finished?”

No response. He had been rendered speechless. The confusion hadn’t left, his eyes narrowed and focused on her mouth.

“By the way, that was my first kiss.” She added. “Does that count for anything?”

The fire abruptly died, and the light with it. The cold night air returned to tangle her curly tresses. She was going to be begrudgingly courteous, but any polite action was snuffed when he growled a curse and grabbed her face for another kiss.

IV. against the bookshelves in the library / while delirious at 3 am

“What are you reading?”

She immediately dove over the opened books in front of her. “Aah! Just, n-nothing, it’s smutty romance novels! All sorts of positions, don’t worry about it!”

“Uh-huh.” The Archmage bent down, grabbing one of the tomes on the edge of her workspace. Ignoring the disgruntled noise she made, he flipped through. “Hm, this seems more like formulas than fiction, and it doesn’t explain why you’re in the stacks this late.”

“Oh, fine.” She deflated. “I was trying to summon that thing you sneezed out.”

Red did a double take. “Wait, what?”

“Yeah, remember when you had the flu? Trouble said some weird thing came out of a planar rip and it crawled away. I want to know what it is! Plus, some of the kids can’t sleep.”

“Does that mean you were the one who told them about it?” He was clearly teasing her.

“I thought it was a funny story, I didn’t realize it would scare them that bad! Come on, won’t you help out a fellow Conjurer?” She reached for the book and he didn’t fight her off.

“Sure, I’d like to find out what it is too.” He pulled over a chair, his gaze scanning over the various pages and papers. “What have you got so far?”

Tucking her chin-length curls behind her pointed ears, she went over the current iteration of the problem. He quickly located a certain volume, obviously intent on something specific, and soon resolved a few mistakes she had made. Meanwhile, she was making inroads on another part and they discussed how it would fit in. It was kind of nice working like this again. It reminded her of days long gone by, when she was still a student in Capra and he was helping out the younger Mages after graduation.

Midnight rolled around, but neither of them were tired yet. The equations became more complex, the balance in magic more precarious. She’d known he was smart, but he was really on another level. She was impressed. And when he complimented her creativity, she felt rather warm. It was approaching three in the morning, when they finally completed the summoning circle.

“I think it looks good.” Red was double checking, but his expression was confident. “Should we try it out tomorrow? Or would that be today?” He gave a light laugh.

“We might as well do it now. It’d be a waste if we stopped, right?” She grinned, and his expression was so heated she almost missed his response.

“That’s what I like to hear.”

They started the ritual. The salt lit into blue flame and the runes glowed. The air became denser, charged with power, until everything reverted as the spell ended. With a crack, a large, red-eyed, otherworldly bug resembling a centipede fell into the circle. Someone might have screamed, maybe both of them. A hefty warhammer slammed down on the creature, just as two of her daggers speared its carapace. It twitched, infinite legs curling, before remaining still.

An eerie silence filled the library. She tackled Red. “It worked!”

And then, things became a little…blurred. Granted, neither of them had slept in hours. But one moment, she was hugging him and the next, he had lifted her against the bookshelves and his mouth was on hers. Whoa. She’d considered it a couple times, that he had to be a great kisser, but she underestimated him…

When he pulled away, it was to press his forehead against hers and smile. A small part of her recalled the ‘Antiqua bedroom eyes’ gossiped about at school, but she didn’t know him well enough then to take the rumors seriously. If anything, people could have exaggerated more.

“Nice.” She managed to say, before blacking out.

As it turned out, one could get sick from staying up too late. She was feverish and indolent in bed for a few days, enduring plain broth and toast and the scenery from her window. After she recovered, she was on patrol again and upon turning a corner, noticed Red at the other end of a hallway. He was talking to some of the newbies, unaware of her presence. Instantly, she was reminded of what happened in the library, after they killed the centipede-thing. But then again, had it actually happened or had she already been sick at that point?

Slowly, she began to step back, plotting a detour in her route. She thought she was pretty good at being stealthy, but Caine suddenly rushed by, loudly greeting her.

“Shh!” She tried to hush him, but it was too late. Red had spotted her, and he pivoted, striding her way. A faint blush was spreading across his face; the kiss had definitely been real.

Oh, damn.

V. over a field of dead enemies / recovering after a battle

The last imp burst under pressure, viscous fluid spilling over the hilt of his dagger. Unceremoniously, he tossed it on top of its other fallen brethren. He shook off the blood and rolled his shoulders. The surrounding battlefield was littered with ice spikes and frozen corpses, and when he exhaled, his breath was visible. Despite his fatigued body, he grinned.

This was one of the best fights he’d ever been in.

He was running low, but he mustered the willpower to disinfect his hands and inspected himself for injuries. Nothing too concerning, and the worst wound at his ribs stung the most but it didn’t feel like anything internal had been damaged. He slapped on some liniment, the thick paste providing enough coverage until the Healers arrived.

Movement in the corner of his eye caught his attention. He turned towards the direction of the approaching figure, tracking her fluttering braid and sleeves. Ayla lifted a hand in greeting. “Hey. You good?”

“I am, now that we’ve won.” Judging from the growing noise around them, the Shepherds had officially secured victory. Now, the tedium of taking stock of their losses and recuperating had begun.

She let out a low whistle. “You killed all of these?”

“Sure did.” The only Endarkened he tolerated was a dead one. And the more dead ones there were, the better off everyone was. He glanced at her, noticing a cut on her arm. Blood dyed the fabric a rusty brown. “Does that hurt?”

She shifted in place, failing to shield her wound from view. “It’s none of your concern, I can fix it. Later.”

“Let me see it.”

“What are you gonna do? Kiss it better?”

He rolled his eyes. “I have salve to spare…and only for Mages who admit when they’re banged up and too exhausted to summon the wind.”

“You’re such a dick, you know?” She grumbled but walked over, offering her arm. “Go ahead.”

He cleaned his hands again, certain it was the last he could do before taking a proper rest. Her injury was deeper than he initially thought. At his request, she tore the rest of her sleeve off and he tied the fabric into a makeshift tourniquet. She looked so slender, but he knew if he pointed it out, she’d prove how delicate she most certainly was not.

His line of thought came to an abrupt end when her voice was uncharacteristically hesitant. “Why do you keep doing this?”

He snorted. “What, tending wounds? Nah, I just know the basics and I don’t want to die from infection. Most of what I learned was common sense to my clan. Ask any Elf and you’ll see.”

“I meant being nice to me.”

“I thought you said I was a dick.”

“Well, that too. But you ultimately end up being kind. So, why?”

“Because I like you. Hey, watch it.” He intoned, dodging her hefty jade ornament.

“Me?! But, but you…said you like me? Like how?”

“How do you think?” And before she could throw another insult, he added. “I don’t know if I’d go to the opera with you-”

“Fat chance. That’s Riel’s thing.”

“Yeah.” He chuckled. “But I’d be happy doing whatever you want to, or if you can’t think of anything, I’d like to show you the places I’ve been. Just the two of us, when we can catch a break.”

“…as friends?” She cautiously asked.

“No, as a couple.” He met her amber gaze. “You’re fun to be with. Yeah, you can be prickly, but I like a woman who can stick up for herself. And deep down, you got a good heart. You remind me of this southern fruit I had one time-”

“A fruit?”

“Just hold on, will you? Anyway, this fruit is thorny on the outside, but sweet on the inside. Not too many people like it, but that’s fine, more for me and I don’t share.”

Her laugh was brisk. “Good, because I don’t either. But I’m a runner when it gets rough.” She warned.

“Then, it’s a good thing I’m stubborn enough to run after you. If you need time to think about it, I can be patient.” Over the years, he had propositioned and been propositioned many times, but this was different. Ayla was different.

“Promise not to be a dick so much?”

“I’ll try my best. And you always call me out on it, which I take seriously.”

She cracked a smile and looked down at her wound. The bleeding had stopped, and he was glad. “I decide pretty fast. So…I’m saying okay. Ack!”

Utterly happy, he had locked an arm around her waist and picked her up. His grin ached, and when he kissed her, he didn’t care who was watching.

VI. during sparring / fluster the other one into losing

The recruit slid backwards with a groan, admitting surrender. “Damn, you’re tough.”

“Just takes practice.” She said, helping xer up with one hand. “Your footwork could be better, but you can train blindfolded.”

“That works?”

“Sure it does.” The reply wasn’t her own, and she glanced aside to see Chase, leaning against the nearest wall. He pushed off with one foot, walking over with a grin. “If you know what you’re doing in the dark, that’s always useful.”

Ignoring the innuendo, she turned back to the recruit. “It makes you rely on your other senses. You might not think you’re improving at first, but give it a few weeks. Your muscles will remember.” Damn it, now he’s going to twist that too.

“Mm-hmm.” Chase hummed and she regretted looking at him. He was enjoying this way too much.

A group fresh off patrol passed by, and after a polite goodbye, the recruit hurriedly joined them. Alone in the training area with the thief, she set about restoring the equipment to their rightful places.

“I knew when I joined but you really are battle-hungry.” He remarked. “Everyone’s lining up to spar you.”

“It’s what I do best.” She shrugged. She had always been fighting, Father liked to say, from the morning he and Mother had found her furiously squalling on their doorstep. They wouldn’t be surprised over her current situation, with the Shepherds and testing her knuckles with child-snatching scum in back alleys. At least, she thought they wouldn’t. With each year, it was harder to tell and besides, there was no point in wondering. They were dead and gone, with the rest of Westwood. Bitterness sharpened her follow-up question.

“Are you asking if you want to spar with me now?”

“Little old me? Go toe to toe with a Battle-Mage?” He paused. “Yeah, I’ll bite.”

The rule was simple: first to hit the ground or surrender was the loser. No magic or weapons, but she was fine with discarding her bow. He shed a multitude of daggers from various pockets, and despite her mood, such a spectacle had always entertained her.

“No blindfolds too.” He suggested.

“Afraid you’d lose?”

“As good as they can be, it’s even better to see what’s happening.” Another insinuation, but this one wasn’t so easy to dismiss. Something about his tone, the undercurrent of intimacy.

Yeah, right. She shook it off, clearing her throat. “…I mean, sure. Let’s get this over with.”

Admittedly, Chase was probably the most agile opponent she had faced in a long time. Every time she’d think a blow would land, he’d be a breath away or a step out of reach. He couldn’t touch her either; for an excruciating period, they were at a standstill.

A chance appeared when one of his cartwheels led him close to a shadowed spot. Energy surged within her as she rushed up. Her forearm pinned him against the wall, her other fist stopping short of his temple. She was breathing heavily, stray wisps of hair escaping her bun and tickling her neck. “Caught you.”

His gaze darted back and forth between her hands, his short laugh more like a wheeze. “You did, so what’s next?”

“Really? If this was an actual fight, I could have done much worse by now.”

“But I haven’t lost, technically.” He leaned in, and there was nothing except the scent of his cologne and the warm press of lips.

What? What?!

Stunned, she snapped her head back, blood rushing to her face. His dilated green eyes watched her with amusement. Instinctively, she stepped away, but his foot was there, hooking and tripping her. Shit! She thought as she was airborne. The ground met her and judging by the points of pain across her body, her landing must have been undignified. The match was decided.

Chase ran his tongue over his lips. “Guess I win.”

“You cheated.” She darkly retorted.

“Funny. Was there a rule against distractions?” At her stubborn silence, his eyebrows lifted. “Never been kissed before?”

“Of course, I have.” Not since breaking up with her ex-girlfriend though, and certainly not in a combat scenario. Stop it, she told her erratic pulse as she stood and brushed herself off. This didn’t mean anything, he was only teasing her.

Just then, Blade called from an upper window, that they were having a meeting. Chase flashed him a thumbs-up of assent. Then, he returned to her with a strangely thoughtful expression, and she felt exposed. She tried not to shiver. The moment passed, and he gestured to let her walk ahead. “Come on, after you?”

“…Thanks.” She muttered, wiping dirt off her cheek and ignoring how warm her skin was. One of these days, she was going to get him back.

VII. sharing a cloak / patrolling the battlements

A gust of wind hit her in the face as she opened the door. “Oof, it’s cold.” The chill was one drawback to night patrol, but she liked being helpful and she usually didn’t need much sleep anyway. Heading out onto the battlement, she reflexively narrowed her eyes when the wind picked up again. She moved her tumbling hair out of the way, and the person she most wanted to see was standing a short distance away, looking out at the city. Behind him, another door closed as a figure retreated inside.

Smiling, she walked over. “Hi.”

Amidst the darkness, Trouble’s golden head was a bright beacon. Half a stick of charch was in his mouth, and he blew out smoke as he turned towards her. He waved and returned her expression. “Hey yourself. Too bad it’s freezing out here.”

“It is, I already miss the fireplace. Was that Tallys just now?”

“Yeah, she said she’s turning in, now that you’re taking over. So, you’re stuck with me for tonight.”

“I don’t mind.” She answered honestly. “I like patrolling with you. Were you watching something in particular?”

“Not really. I was thinking about stuff.” Uncharacteristically, he didn’t continue to share. He took another pull of his cigarette. “But anyway, let’s start moving. Gotta get the blood flowin’ in weather like this.”

She agreed and kept pace beside him. Occasionally, she glanced up only to find a blanket of dark clouds.

“Notice something?”

“No, it’s an old habit. My teacher navigated using the stars, and I liked trying to do the same, while I was on the road. But I haven’t seen any stars in Haven.”

“It’d be nice if we could, like when we were out on last week’s mission.” He wistfully said. “Speaking of which, how’s your gun working now?”

“Definitely improved.” She patted the pistol secured to her hip. “I never knew you could fix it like that.”

“It actually took me a few tries to get the technique right.” He began to excitedly discuss the intricacies of the inner mechanisms.

She listened attentively. To be honest, there was plenty she didn’t know about her weapon and was unable to ask until recently. Her father had been a soldier, but since he became mayor of their little town, he had never picked up a gun again. It would have been nice, to hear what he thought. He and her mother would have liked Trouble.

The wind swept through, this time from her side, and the full blast forced her to stop and brace herself. The aroma of charch and Trouble’s familiar scent of grass and leather filled her nose, while heavy warm cloth draped over her. One of his hands hung over her shoulder, tightly holding the edge of his cloak. Now that they were sharing, they were standing close, sides touching. His solid body radiated heat, and she resisted the urge to lean in.

“Wouldn’t want you getting sick.”

“Aw, but I haven’t been sick in a long time.” She joked. Nevertheless, she beamed at him. “You’re sweet. Thank you.”

He sheepishly grinned. “Heh. Feeling better?”

“Mm, much warmer.”

They continued on for a minute, before he slowed to a halt and addressed her. He spoke carefully. “I was talking to Tallys before you showed up.” He scratched the back of his neck, seemingly hesitant. “Basically, she called me a dumbass, but in her own way. She just thought I wasn’t noticing some things. Well, maybe I have all along, deep down. I wasn’t sure though, I’m not great with recognizing signs.”

“Trouble? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, sorry. I’m rambling.” He squared his shoulders, his serious gaze trained on her. “Somehow, I’ve got it into my head that you like me.”

Ah. She never had any intention of being coy and was waiting for him to figure it out, but she still blushed. Thank the One-God her voice was steady. “You’re not wrong. I like you a lot. I was hoping we could be more than friends. But if you don’t want to, I won’t have any hard feelings.”

“No, I want to!” His immediate refusal sparked relief. “And I like you too. I’m, uh, not exactly used to it though. Being in a relationship.”

“Neither am I. But that’s okay, we can learn together.”

“Learning together sounds good.”

They stood like that for a few moments, happily taking each other in. Then, she pointed out. “You know, people typically kiss right about now.”

“Huh? Oh, true.” He visibly gulped. He tilted his head forward, stopped, slightly changed his angle, and stopped again. Steam was practically billowing from his red ears.

She laughed. “Here.” Slipping her arms around his neck, she met him exactly where they both wanted.

VIII. while one is injured / awakens some deep-buried feelings

Reaper’s down.

The message sent a chill through her, despite the blazing summer sun. She finished bandaging the wounded recruit in her care and swallowed. Can you give me the coordinates? I’m going to him.

Once the response came through, she ran out of cover and towards the group in the distance. All around, there were the sounds of gunshots, battle cries, and the screams of dying Endarkened. Fortunately, her path was clear, and without needing to draw her bow, she reached the portion of stone wall providing cover for the officers surrounding Halek. They stood, explaining the situation.

“We moved the Revenant body out of the way.”

“But he’s in bad shape.”

“Do you need anything?”

“Um…” It was difficult to reply confidently; her heart was pounding, her thoughts racing. “Keep the area clear while I heal him?” Her gaze fell upon a large hand, the matha nearly entirely obscured by blood, and she immediately knelt at his side. She barely registered the officers’ dispersal as she triaged him, focusing on what had to be done.

It wasn’t a secret among the Shepherds that they were close. Close friends, they insisted to anyone who would question their dynamic. He was engaged and had a duty to his people, while she didn’t know where she belonged. He felt confined in his role, a path that had been marked for him since he was born. He once said he envied her freedom, but she told him otherwise. She walked an uncertain line, between a culture that had loved and raised her with the awareness she’d outlive them all, and a virtually unknown bloodline she only knew through stolen books. It hurt to confess how tormented she was, but he didn’t seem to mind, asking her more thoughtful questions.

Perhaps, they found comfort in each other. It soon became typical for anyone searching for him to check her office first, and to send for her after one of his blood-rages. When Chase teased her for being too obvious, she had been scared to her core. She knew, all too well, how important Halek was to the Hunters and she wasn’t even a full-blooded one. No, she couldn’t feel anything more for him. But things would be so much easier if she could smile at him or gaze on his sleeping face without feeling a twinge of pain.

How long it took to heal him, she wasn’t sure. Fractured bones were set right, torn muscle repaired, and internal bleeding stopped. She held his face, murmuring the spell to bring someone back to consciousness.

He didn’t stir. Fear seized her, that she wasn’t capable at all, that he was gone forever. “Halek? Halek, wake up. Please, wake up!” She repeatedly called to him as she continued to cast, pushing the limits of her magic. Fatigue snuck up on her, dark spots floating in her vision. She had failed Maj, but she had to save him. With every second, it was harder to breathe.

Slowly, his gray eyes opened and he languidly blinked. She gave a strangled sob of relief. “You’re alive.”

“So are you.” His voice was hoarse, raw. A curse escaped him as he flexed his hand. He gripped her shoulder, firm but not painful. “Did I hurt you?”

“You didn’t. I’m fine.” She reassured.

He exhaled, the tension dissipating. Then, his hand slid to the back of her head and brought her mouth to his.

It was almost too much at first, and she didn’t know how to react. He kissed her with unexpected passion, a longing he must have buried deep down. All of the emotion he had contained was given to her, and she was reciprocating in full. She loved him. Hopelessly, helplessly loved him.

When the kiss ended, they were perfectly still, the world off center. Then, a distant explosion righted it again and she remembered the situation they were in. Her lips burned as she pressed them together and carefully leaned away from him. “We shouldn’t-” The rest of the sentence caught in her throat, blocked by the upwelling of guilt as well as shame in that she had wanted the kiss. And that she half wished he’d pull her in again.

But he didn’t. His touch relented, his fingertips running through the white streak at her left temple. Any desire had receded, the chieftain’s mask back in place. “I’m sorry.”

“…It’s alright.” That felt like a lie and she had never been good at lying. She let him go and dropped her gaze as they rose to their feet, the awkward silence between them suffocating.

When he said her name, she couldn’t resist looking up at him. He hesitated for a second before he promised.

“We’ll talk later.”

#shepherds of haven #sorry if i've made mistakes i've only played the public demo #i just wanted the opportunity to flesh out my player characters

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xyliane · 4 years

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the many lies of kanzaki hitomi to her long-suffering best friend uchida yukari (pt 2)

summary: when hitomi said “destination wedding,” yukari was picturing a quaint beach, or a big european city that van would hate. teleporting to a magical second moon was not really what she expected. (part 1 here)

notes: I didn’t intend on writing more of this, but I didn’t write enough van/hitomi in the first part so I guess I have to actually write out the destination wedding fic. which I haven’t even gotten to yet, so there’s that. thanks @wuzzyletoastermac for putting up with me yelling about gaean dialects and architectural influences via magic rock transportation because guess who made yukari an architect on a whim and is going to follow through on it dammit. G, yukari and hitomi friendship, van/hitomi, also featuring merle, ruhm, and hitomi’s family. 2100 words.

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The first wedding is a June ceremony in Japan, which gives Yukari just enough time to panic over her hostess duties, get everything organized, and panic again when Hitomi nearly doesn’t come back from Greece—from Gaea—in time and lands on the roof of Yukari’s apartment building with barely an hour to spare. Something about ongoing restoration projects and traumatized children growing into traumatized adults and long bygone wars. To be honest, Yukari barely listened, too busy moving through her checklist at record speed. Later, once everything’s moving, Van’s little sister Merle is only too happy to explain in halting Japanese that it’s mostly Hitomi’s fault. Yukari decides she likes the young woman immediately, so quickly that she nearly misses that Merle is, in fact, a cat. It’s a beautiful day at the shrine, the wedding itself is heartbreakingly lovely, the reception runs impeccably smooth, and Yukari only cries twice during her speech.

Hitomi promises that the wedding in Fanelia, on Gaea, on the bloody Moon, won’t be nearly as much work. Given the relatively quiet wedding the Kanzakis have thrown and Van’s own stoic reticence, she assumes it’ll be more of the same: pretty, peaceful, Yukari will cry multiple times. All Yukari has to do is show up with the other Kanzakis. And, as the months between weddings wear on, Yukari realizes just how much and how little she knows about her best friend. She’s still the same Kanzaki Hitomi, still the same kind-hearted woman equally likely to sprint across a city to help a friend as she is to be late to her own wedding. But she also travels to another planet on weekends and helps rebuild a war-torn land, was there during a war and still wants to return over and over again.

Merle, utterly delighted by Van’s corner of Hitomi’s closet, mentions that Hitomi has a similar closet of dresses in Fanelia that she struggles to remember to wear, and finally someone understands Yukari’s unending suffering.

The second wedding, however, isn’t until winter. Hitomi is only just able to get multiple weeks off after taking on an extra month of shifts, a problem Yukari does not have. Being her own boss is spectacular. But Hitomi is asking everyone going on a journey to the Moon to meet in the center of an empty lot outside of town just before twilight on one of the first truly cold days of winter, and Yukari is currently reconsidering everything that led her to this point.

And then Van descends from the sky in a pillar of light, his wild black hair bound in a tight braid and his loose clothing whipping around him in a gust of wind, and well that explains a lot.

“You have to want to go,” Hitomi explains for the fifth time as she clasps their hands together, the cold metal of her engagement ring burning against Yukari’s bare skin. Next to them, Van is greeting his mother- and brother-in-law, matching Sota’s incredulous expression with a beleaguered sigh. “Really, really want it.”

“I know, Hitomi.” Yukari wants to go, so much that she aches with it. How could she not? For Hitomi, of course, and maybe a little bit for Van. But mostly, Yukari wants to understand what about this other world, a land both beautiful and sad, could possibly draw Hitomi back. Because yes, Hitomi is a romantic, but she also has a deeply practical streak. If she didn’t think this long-distance relationship (long, long, long distance) would work, she would figure out a way to let him down easy, taking all the pain of the break into herself rather than letting anyone else suffer. If she didn’t love Gaea as much as she seems to, she wouldn’t have run herself ragged learning how to fix it with all the tools she has at hand. Wouldn’t have decided to become who she is for anything less than a whole world.

“I do want to go, I promise,” Yukari says with all her heart.

Warmth bubbles up in the spaces between her fingers and Hitomi’s, building and building like a spring breeze until a bright smile spreads across Yukari’s face. And her best friend grins, wide and wondrous with joy.

“Hold on,” Hitomi says, and grabs onto her husband’s shoulder with her free hand. He smiles, a rare genuine brilliance that feels almost too private to be seen by anyone else, and pulls a beautiful pink stone pendant out from beneath his shirt. It’s familiar, too familiar, and not because it is the same color as Hitomi’s engagement ring and certainly not because both stones have begun to glow.

Yukari has about half a moment’s realization that Van is wearing Hitomi’s old necklace before a bright beam of light erupts from beneath her feet, and then the world is gone.

—only to return barely a breath later. It happens so suddenly that Yukari loses her grip on Hitomi, tumbling ass over teakettle to land in a field of soft grass. The sky stretches out impossibly far above her, painted in splashes of reds and purples and the deepest blue Yukari has ever seen disappearing into snow-capped mountains growing up from the earth in shattered peaks. Even in the twilight with the sun hovering just above the horizon, a pair of moons is hung in the sky, consuming the sky and almost close enough that Yukari can hold them in her hands if only she could reach.

Oh, that’s no moon. That’s the Earth.

Well.

As though sensing her rising vertigo, Hitomi leans over her, short brown hair fairly glowing in the fading sunlight and her grin wide. But her green eyes are far too gentle, like she can read exactly what’s going through Yukari’s mind and she understands. “It’s really something, right?” she says.

It brings Yukari back from the sky. She lets Hitomi haul her back to her feet, patting down her slacks and coat into something presentable, although her hair is probably a lost cause. She tries anyways, especially as a small group of riders on horseback arrive up a well-worn path. The first horse pulls up suddenly, and a fuzzball in the shape of a woman hurls herself right into Van’s arms and nearly knocking him over.

“Van anax!” Merle says with delight, her voice a familiar grounding point against the unexpected strangeness of everything even as Yukari can’t understand a word she’s saying. The others laugh, clearly used to this, and Hitomi slides over to pet Merle between her ears, earning her a baleful glare from the cat woman and a coughing laugh out of Van.

Mrs. Kanzaki watches the proceedings with a smile not unlike that of her daughter’s. “Those are beautiful animals, don’t you think?” she says, walking gracefully over to the horses. The riders have dismounted, a tall wolfish man with a wide flat nose and large brown eyes nodding deeply at the two women. He says something in the same language Merle is chatting away in, syllables rising and falling musically around hard consonants.

“I’m sorry, I don’t—” Yukari says, and the wolf man smiles apologetically.

“Ruhm,” he says, and points to himself. “Onoma soi te astin?”

Yukari has spent far, far too much time abroad. The introduction pantomime is recognizable anywhere.“Yukari,” she says, hand to her own chest, and gestures back to the absolutely terrible hostess of her best friend. “Hitomi’s friend?”

Ruhm blinks, and dips his head a little deeper. He says something else completely unintelligible, and Yukari tries to not feel too put out. He seems really nice and all, but Yukari’s spent enough time abroad to know when to give up on pantomiming and go for help.

Fortunately, so does Hitomi’s family. “Oi, Hitomi?” Sota says, voice loud and edged with the bratty annoyance of a younger sibling. “Translation?”

She sticks her tongue out, and he gestures right back. Mrs. Kanzaki sighs, and it sounds almost like an exasperated children. But Hitomi comes over anyways, Van following in her wake. Ruhm bows deeper to both of them. “O basileos,” he says with a broad smile, and Van waves a hand, saying something clearly meant to be a joke.

Van tells jokes. Will wonders never cease. Too bad Yukari won’t understand a single one.

“This is Ruhm,” Hitomi says. “He’s known Van since he was little. Merle wanted to greet us when we got here, so he and the others decided to come along and bring a cart for our stuff.”

“I didn’t want you lost again!” Merle says, accent almost like a growl. “You always are lost when you arrive in the city’s out parts.”

“Outside of the city,” Van corrects quietly, and Merle’s ears pull back into her hair. “But she is right.”

“If I remember right, Van, you were the one who dropped us all the way at the borders.”

He says something short in response, and Ruhm gives a deep belly laugh. But when Yukari looks for a translation, Hitomi simply turns a bright red.

Yukari sighs. “This is going to be a long week if you don’t translate everything that embarrasses you,” she says.

A long, hilarious week, but Yukari likes to know what’s going on around her. It helps her know what to do next, how she can make things the most efficient. Planning makes even the strangest places more understandable, or at least easier to navigate. So at least a little help would be nice. Anything that will keep her from completely losing herself to the strange moons and the sky again.

For a moment, it looks like Hitomi’s going to argue. But she studies Yukari’s face, reads her like a book, and takes a step back. “It’s okay,” she says. “I asked Merle to help you and Mom and Sota around.”

A flurry of Gaean erupts out of the woman in question, her tail flicking back and forth in irritation, and Hitomi tries to put her hands up in defense. “I mean, what I did was—catnip doesn’t exist here, and we went into this pet shop in Akihabara after the first wedding, and so…”

“You bribed her,” Van says, clearly amused.

“You gave her drugs,” Yukari says, only mildly scandalized because this is Hitomi.

“I bribed her with good drugs,” Hitomi agrees.

“So pay up!” Merle yowls in clear Japanese and pounces onto Hitomi’s back, knocking her forward. They would have fallen to the ground if Ruhm and one of the other wolf people hadn’t been in the way, propping the women up and not bothering to cover their barks of laughter.

It’s an easy ride into the city through the last dredges of sunlight, once all of their bags are loaded up onto Ruhm’s cart. Van jumps into the saddle like he was born to it, listening to the welcome party with a keen attention. At some point, he’s buckled on a black belt with a long sword, the black sheath resting at his hip like a missing puzzle piece. Hitomi doesn’t pick up any new weapons or anything, but she chats away with her mom and brother, occasionally translating something Ruhm adds, relaxed and open. Merle is curled into her side, purring away as Hitomi scritches her ears absent-mindedly. Despite the strange scenery, that there aren’t any cars and most of the people they’re with are also wolves and cats, she’s relaxed and open, comfortable in her skin.

Not that Hitomi isn’t usually, but she’s just more…more.

A whole second world. A whole other life. Other friends, loves. Something cold burns at the base of Yukari’s throat. It’s not jealousy, exactly, but…

“We’re here,” Hitomi says, and Yukari’s thoughts scatter into sparks.

The forest falls away into the mountains, and the valley spreads out in front of them in a tapestry. In the center is a city, its massive front gates wide open and framed by freshly lit torches. Two- and three-story buildings frame an open brick square, the wood and stone walls whitewashed and framed by dark banisters and gently angled tile roofs. The streets slope steadily upwards, leading to a massive castle or shrine that nestles against the sheer stone walls of the valley. If it weren’t for the narrower eaves and the great amount of stone in even the most modest homes, or how almost every building appears to have been built or renovated sometime in the last decade, Yukari would have thought she’d not traveled to another world, but to the Heian period.

She can hear her history of architecture professors laughing at her. She is a modernist, after all, she doesn’t design traditional buildings. But no, here she is trying to decipher hypothetical period architecture living right before her eyes, trying to put something in an order she understands. Because it’s breathtakingly beautiful, and impossibly strange, and Yukari wants so desperately to know.

Van catches Yukari staring and smiles, his eyes gleaming with fierce pride. “Aspadzomai, Yukari Uchida,” he says. “Welcome to Fanelia.”

(part 1)

#the vision of escaflowne #escaflowne #uchida yukari #kanzaki hitomi #van fanel #merle #my writing #van/hitomi #me: oh this will be quick and lovely and fun #my stupid writing brain: lol you fool you absolute bufoon #I love escaflowne's worldbuilding so obviously I'm going to godzilla stomp my way through it #you know #24 years after the fact #nbd

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avaria-revallier · 4 years

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Chapter 6: Cooking dwarrows and poisoning trolls

The moment Bella sat down Dwalin was by her side. “Namad, here. Drink something. You must be exhausted. Have some of this too, you must eat properly. Bombur, how is that fire going?” The warrior fussed.

It had been adorable and sweet for the first week. The second week her mood dropped significantly. Now the third week had ended. The morning after her speech of home and family, after they had learned of how old she is, all hope was lost. They treated her like an invalid.

Dori snatched her pack as soon as they stopped for the night, preparing her bedroll next to Dwalin and Thorin.

This had become her spot now and Bella felt safe and secure yet a bit jumpy around their leader. She had to remind herself almost permanently that this is not ‘her’ Thorin. Despite the knowledge of this fact, her heart betrayed her and started to increase its beating from a steady thumping into a fluttering humming bird every time he was near or simply looked at her. Curse that traitorous heart.

Bombur wouldn’t even let her chop the vegetable, while Dwalin dragged her back to camp every time she attempted to sneak off to train. Fili and Kili avoided her completely, whispering behind her back and hastily shutting up when she strolled close. Oin came up every evening, determined to check for a possible injury. Bella wasn’t sure, how she would have managed to injure herself at all, with all those fussing dwarrows around but appreciated the thoughts. Nori took on her watch, grumbling something about her needing the sleep. She slumps down next to Ori. He was eagerly writing and sketching in his journal.

“Ori, would you be so kind and explain again the difference between those blue gem-types?” the young scribe beamed at her, closing the book.

He was the only one who didn’t treat her differently. Maybe because he knew all to well how it was to be the youngest. Dori fussed over him enough as it was. The pure thought of having to deal with ten of Doris kind… Ori shuddered.

“I would be delighted.” He started chatting away about mining and how the different gems where found in different depths and how the purity grade was determined.

Soon he noticed that the hobbit lass wasn’t really listening to him. She stared over to where the better part of the company was gathered. Following her line of sight, he spotted Thorin. The dwarven king was sitting on a fallen tree. He talked to Dwalin about something and frowned at his friend’s response.

Ori looked back at Bella. In her eyes gleams a sadness so deep Ori nearly flinched. A storm of sorrow, pain, fear and longing? raged in her green eyes, dying them nearly black. He had seen this before. In the eyes of the survivors of Moria. He reached out to her, gently touching her shoulder.

“Are you all right?” he asks with worry in his voice.

Bella jumped, one hand reaching to her hip, as if she was to draw a sword. Oddly there was no sword on her and the dagger from Dwalin hang on the other side. Ori frowned confused. That might have been the reaction of a veteran warrior, but definitely not one of gentle folk.

“I … I am sorry. I think I… I need some time for myself. I won’t go far, I promise. I just need to think for a bit. Tell them… Tell them I won’t talk to them for at least a month if they come after me. I just – just can’t.” she choked, turning to hide her tears and slipped away.

This whole situation felt wrong. Bella couldn’t hold back the tears any more when she reached the forrest. The trees hummed comforting in the warm breeze. The company hadn’t cared for her before. She had been just dead weight to them. Another piece of luggage they had to look after. Dwalin hadn’t been that sweet and caring, Dori wouldn’t fuss and Bombur would hand her the odd jobs. Kili and Fili acted the same by now. It was familiar but hurt so much at the same time. Ori was her save haven as is Bifur.

The warrior wouldn’t fuss over her, just handing her a knife and a block of wood. Silently they would carve by the fire. Her sculptures were never really anywhere near identifiable, but he would just chuckle and let her try the next evening again. Thorin, well Thorin was another matter. He acted cold and distant. He would watch her with his indifferent expression but sometimes it seemed like he acted out of character. Neither the grumpy and brooding king nor the stoic and steeled warrior. He would be just Thorin, the blacksmith holding her heart.

The nightmares had returned. Every night when she closed her eyes the pictures of her bloodied dwarrows hunted her down. Empty eyes staring at her. Fili and Kili, Dwalin, Bofur and Bifur. Thorin. If she had been a little bit better at that time. A bit faster. Stronger. Even now they seemed to stare at her, reach out for her, calling.

‘It is your fault.’ They whispered accusingly.

Sobbing she sat down by a fallen tree. The earth under her bare feet pulsed slightly as if it wanted to tell her ‘do not worry, I am here’. The trees whispered stories of old. Small flowers tilting their heads towards the hobbit lass. The forest reached out to her, comforted her with its presence. The last rays of sunlight broke through the leaves, coating the lass and the flowers in gold.

Shaking she exhales. Crying had never solved any problems. Placing her palms on the grass she closed her eyes, focusing on the voice of the forrest. It told her stories of cold winters and the following spring as if it wanted to tell her all will be fine. After some time, she opens her eyes. A vast field of flowers surrounding her. Giggling she brushes away the tears. It would be fine. She would make sure everything would be fine.

Humming she picks some small blue flowers and a couple of daisies. Bella would put them into Dwalins beard once back at the camp. She would have to talk to them again. She is no invalid nor a child. She could carry her own pack, hold watch at night and most definitely chop the vegetables!

Happy with her choice of flowers, she had gathered some more for Ori to sketch, Bella decides to go back.

Loud, heavy footsteps, the distant splintering of wood and a painful scream of the forrest where the only warnings. In a matter of seconds Bella was swept off the ground. A surprised squeak sounded before the air was forcefully pressed from her lungs.

‘Snap’. The sharp pain followed immediately. At least one of her ribs was broken.

“Bert, Bert! Look what I found.” The trolls scraping voice rang in her ears.

“That’s not even a mouth full!” boomed the addressed.

“Is not for eating. I found it, so I keep it.” The first troll yanked her away from the reaching hands of Bert.

“And we feed it too? Don’t bother, better eating it now.” The third troll intervened.

“I, ah, I eat plants, so you won’t need to worry about feeding me.” Bella managed to say with a smile.

“See! No struggle at all.” The one holding her chimed.

Heavily he sat down, bringing Bella nearer to his face. He stank worse than she remembered. Something between rotten eggs and long forgotten fish. The stench stings in her eyes and nose. He poked her into the stomach, forcing the air from her lungs once more.

“Funny little thing. What are you?” he demands to know, poking her once more.

‘Smile. Ignore the pain and smile.’ Thousand thoughts are rushing through her mind. Bella couldn’t panic now. She simply refused to. ‘This is not right. Smile. They are early. We are not even at the farm. Gandalf, where is he. Thorin. It hurts.’

“I… I am a hobbit.” She managed to state.

‘Smile!’ With some effort the hobbit managed to force her lips into a polite smile, as she would gift Lobelia.

“I, well, I am a wandering cook. We hobbits are quite famous for our skills and our stew is to die for.”

“Bert look! I found us a cook!” the first chimed again, pleased with himself.

A large wooden spoon landed on his head. The troll flinched, tightening the grip around Bella. With another snapping sound a wave of pain flooded her body.

“Are you saying I can’t cook? A bit appreciation would be nice. ‘Thank you for the lovely stew, Bert. That was really tasty, Bert.’ But all you do is complaining, Bill.” He rumbled, swinging his spoon once again.

“Tom, say something!” Bill demanded, looking at the quiet troll.

“He’s right… everything tastes like mutton-“ he starts, ducking away as the spoon aims at his head.

“-except the mutton, which tastes like fish.” Finishes Bill.

“Shut your cakehole.” Bert grumbles, stirring furiously in the large cauldron. “We don’t have all night. I don’t fancy turning to stone.”

In her clouded mind an idea sparked. It might be crazy, but most likely better than the risk of breaking anything else. Bella shifted slightly in the grip of her captor.

“Excuse me master Bert? I can see you really did brew a very nice stew there. As I can tell, that you are an excellent cook. If I might suggest something that might be in your interest?” she smiled, clenching her shaking hands.

“What?” he boomed, not looking up from the stew.

“Well, I am really thankful for your hospitality and would love to repay you. My mother was rather famous for her gift. You see, she could brew a stew that held special effects.” Her heartbeat increased rapidly, waiting for his response.

“And what would that be?” he glanced at her, slightly interested.

“Ah, well… you see.”

“Yes? What is it?” Tom raised one eyebrow. She had the attention of the trio.

“This is a secret family recipe…” Bella watched them lean in to her.

“Spill it! Tell us about the secret thingy!” Bill demanded, shaking her impatiently.

“Yes, yes! The stew… the special stew makes you able to walk in the sunlight. You see, we hobbits just turn into trees when exposed to sunlight.” The lie easily slipped from her lips.

“Do you take is for fools, you little ferret? Trying to poison us, eh?” he booms, snatching her out of Bills hand and letting her dangle near the fire.

“N-no! Of course not. How could I ever be so impolite to my gracious hosts?” Bella forces herself to smile once again.

Her ribs felt like they where on fire and her feet where Bert held her began to turn numb. Small black dots invaded her sight, but she forced them back. She trapped her pain und unpleasantness inside a dark corner of her mind. It would be no help at all if she would faint now.

“Drop her!” now she even began to hallucinate. That couldn’t have been Kili, as he is safe and sound with the others.

“I said: Drop her!” the shouting was without a doubt Kili!

The next thing Bella remembers is being thrown through the air and landing on something oddly familiar. Kili had broken her fall, sadly Bella had broken something as well while colliding with his armor.

In a matter of moments, she was dragged behind a large tree and ordered to keep herself hidden. The battle didn’t rage for long. Once the trolls found out the dwarrows wouldn’t attack one of their own, they grabbed Ori by the arms and legs and threatened the company to lay down arms. Which they did. The trolls stripped them off their armor and clothes, stuffing them in sacks and piling them like presents under a Christmas tree.

“Where did you throw her? I quite liked that pet. She was funny.” Bill pouted and promptly earned a whack from Bert.

Creeping forward as silently as she could, Bella made her way towards a large boulder. Between the others she could spot Thorin, Kili and Fili. Dwalin was not far and Ori was still a bit green around the nose. Bombur lay on top of the pile.

“Don’t be like that, you can get another.” Tom patted Bills back, making him spill his drink.

An argument broke out and Bella took this chance to overcome the small distance between her and her dwarrows. Sheltering herself behind her brother she takes out her small dagger and starts to loosen the ropes.

“Listen, I know you will probably hate me for this plan, but you have to do exactly like I tell you. Understood?” she whispers hardly loud enough for them to hear.

She tried to sell them her plan as well as possible. They all looked at her as if she was insane when she moved on to Nori. Kili looked so betrayed while his brother eyed her as if she was insane. Thorin was no better. He glowered at her as if she had suggested for him to marry the troll.

“For Yavannas sake, Thorin! Put your damn pride away and consider your options! Do you want to end as a troll-snack before you even laid eyes upon your mountain? I don’t want to see them die again, so get your stubborn head out of your ass and do as I say.” Bella hissed under her breath while dragging Nori to the trees.

The argument of the trolls had ended with Bert hitting the other two on the head, demanding silence while he decided how to proceed with the dwarrows.

“How good can you imitate a troll?” Bella wanted to know from the thief.

Nori looked down at the small hobbit lass. She had courage and a whole lot of that!

She had called him Thorin and not master Oakenshield as she used to. And the worst part of it, he liked the sound of that. It had a nice ring to it, coming from her mouth that is.

‘You would even like it if she had insulted you.’ The voice inside his mind snorts.

Her plan was ridiculous and really humiliating, but she was right, he didn’t want to end as a snack for a troll. He had heard only half of her words, too taken by the fact of her calling his name. Did she really tell him to snap out of it?! There was something else in her words that made him frown. Something she said sounded odd.

A deep voice asked if they couldn’t make a pie out of the dwarrows. Another argument between the trolls broke loose and every time it seemed to die down, another bodyless voice intervened and fueled it again.

“Nothing wrong with a raw dwarf! Nice and crunchy!” Bill grabbed Bombur from their pile.

Voices got loud, insults were thrown at the ugly beings, but nothing seemed to help. They could only watch while Bombur was lowered to the open mouth of the troll.

“I wouldn’t risk it if I where you.” Thorin raised his voice over the others. “That one there is spoiled. He has parasites, as we do all.”

The troll halted in his motion, looking at the dwarven king.

“Parasites?” he asks.

“Aye, parasites. We were on our way to a healer, to get rid of our little ‘problem’.” He managed to say.

Every word burned like acid in his throat. The trolls all looked at him, doubtful but curious. Thorin clenches his hands into fists, opening and closing them a few times to release the tension. ‘This’ he decided ‘will never ever again be mentioned.’ Today would leave a blank page in their records.

He kicks his nephews in the back, as good as he can manage from his laying position. Kili joins in on their little act, as does Fili. They all first hesitate but choosing between swallowing once pride and being swallowed is not that hard a choice at all.

“I have huge parasites!” “Mine are the biggest parasites!” “They are as big as my arm!” to only mention a few.

Confusion grew in the faces of the trolls. Dwalin used that chance to get rid of his bonds and slipped the small dagger to Thorin. Quickly the dagger was handed around, while they yelled at the trolls and distracted them as much as possible.

“Enough!” Bert rumbled, snatching Bombur from Bill and throwing him back on the pile. “We will kill them now and cook them tomorrow.” He decided, taking a step towards the dwarrows.

They all were ready to jump up and fight their way out, if necessary. Thorin nodded at Dwalin, who returned the nod wit a grim expression on his face.

These things had hurt his sister! She might have tried to hide her discomfort, but he saw the pain in her eyes, the stiffness in every motion and how she preferred to lean on her left leg. They would burn for what they did. Before any of them could act, a familiar voice echoed over the clearing.

“The dawn will take you all!” Gandalf called out and sun flooded the valley.

The trolls tried to shield themselves from the sunlight but there was no help for them. They became stone once again. For a moment silent ruled the company. Then cheers and laughter filled the air. They still lived. Somehow, they had managed to survive.

“What were you thinking? You could have gotten yourself killed!” as soon as the blonde prince had his clothes, weapons and armor back on he twirls around to his younger brother, angrily staring at him.

“You would have done the same! You saw how they handled her!” Kili defends his action, anger rising in him.

“What would mother say if she saw you being reckless again?” Fili shoots back, checking him for injuries.

“Don’t treat me like a child! If I am old enough to go on this quest I am old enough to make my own decisions!” angrily Kili slaps away the fussing hands, taking a step back and crossing his arms.

“You are far too young to go on this quest!” Fili yelled at him, shoving him a bit.

Kili shoved back and a small fight broke loose. They poked and shoved, bickered and finally rolled around the ground, laughing to their hearts contend. Thorin shook his head at their childish behavior. In his eyes they both were probably far to young to come on this quest.

Suddenly it was quiet. He looked back where he last saw his nephews. They had vanished. His heart missed a beat as he searched the area with his eyes. Bombur and Bofur were helping their cousin into his pants, Balin sorted through the scattered belongings. Nori just came out of the forest and Dori was frantically checking over Ori. The scribe seemed fine, but his brother wouldn’t stop fussing. Dwalin was fastening his axes before stomping over to Nori.

“Uncle look what we found!” a relieved sight leaves Thorins lungs. He hadn’t even realized that he had held his breath.

“What?” he grunted, trying to cover the worry in his voice.

“We found a cave, uncle. It stinks, but there is a small hoard too.” Kilis head pokes out between the bushes.

He followed them, as did the better part of the company, leaving Dwalin and Nori behind. Thorin wasn’t sure why his friend detested his spymaster so much, but Dwalin had always had a high sense for what was right and wrong. He shifts his attention back to the cave before him. A barrel with swords catches his eyes.

‘This one is a bit small to be even called a sword, but maybe she could…’

“Where is she, thief?” Dwalin grabs Noris arm, forcefully yanking him back when he tried to follow the others.

“Lost her already, eh?” Nori sneers, breaking free of the painful grip.

Had he really lost her? Was this filthy thief right? Gritting his teeth Dwalin took another step towards Nori. Staring down on the one he had hunted so many times back in the blue mountains. This scum knew nothing about what was going on inside of him. The worry and the doubt of his own skills to protect his sister nearly drowned him. She had vanished on his watch. She could have been dead!

Nori watched the tall dwarf a few more moments, before he frees him from his misery. Somehow it had become a game to the thief to anger the warrior. He played pranks on Dwalin, angered him on purpose. Nori liked how crimson slowly crept over the tattooed face, the wild look in his eyes and by Mahal, the flexing of his muscles. This sight alone was worth all the trouble that came with it.

“She is fine. After she told me her crazy but brilliant plan she went back to camp. She said she would fetch the herbs, just to make sure. If her plan would have failed she would have poisoned them.” Shrugging he looks at Dwalin, daring to step a bit closer.

'Maybe if I kiss him he would explode?’ chuckling to himself Nori turns away. ‘No, just this is enough for now.’ Ignoring the aching in his chest he leaves.

Dwalin froze. There was a short moment between worry and anger where he felt peace. In the very second he heard the soft chuckle his world went white. Leaving only himself, his One and the smell of tea and sunny days.

“Oh…” he mouthed, watching the thief departing further from him.

If you want me to tag you as well, please just send me a message.

If you like what you have read consider reblogging my story for others to enjoy too.

I am always open for asks and requests for shorts of our favorite dwarrows!

Masterpost

@lathalea

#thorin x bilbo #thorin oakenshield #the hobbit #thilbo #king thorin #hobbit #hobbit headcannons #hobbit imagine #female bilbo #bilbo baggins

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ourdawncomes · 5 years

Text

That Mercy you to others show, show that Mercy to me

Solas seeks wisdom in an Inquisitor Cadash who chose to forgive Blackwall.

Set after Revelations. Now on AO3.

“Another letter down,” Thora announced, knocking the freshly sealed envelope into a pile beside her desk, “another dozen more to go.”

Solas smiled behind the pages of his book. “I expect Ambassador Montilyet did not explain to you the amount of paperwork required when you became Inquisitor, did she?”

“No, she didn’t.” The dwarf released a weary sigh, already hunching over the next blank sheet of paper with her quill in hand. “If I said something I’m sure she’d have a solution, but this just… well, I’d rather just deal with it myself.”

“I see. How highly the Inquisitor values me,” he said, with mock offense, “that my presence is not even accounted for.”

She grinned. “Well, I need my spellchecker, don’t I?”

Once Solas may have agreed, but as the months passed Thora’s requests became fewer and far between. However, it had become habit for him to sit with her while she wrote by now. He no longer wondered why it was him of all people she asked to sit with her. He carried no title, save the name he had chosen for himself, and put on no airs. Though Josephine was undoubtedly better suited for the role she could not understand the struggles that came with being a self-taught writer. Thora could ask without shame, knowing he, too, had once asked himself the same question.

The sound of her quill scratching against parchment stopped abruptly, and Solas was already looking at her in anticipation of her question. “How do you spell ‘genuine’?”

Her answer came to him in Elvhen before anything else, the flat letters of the King’s Tongue did not stick in his mind the same way his mother language did. With his index finger he traced the letters upon his thigh, then said, “G-e-n-u-i-n-e.” Thora wrote as he spelled, her penmanship more deliberate for that handful of letters before it flowed back into her usual loose style.

“Thanks.”

Solas hummed in response, watching her a moment before returning to his book. It was good to see her at ease again after the last month’s trials. The shadow of Corypheus loomed over them still, but that threat was nearly a welcome return to form after Blackwall’s abrupt disappearance. They fell into an easy silence, or what could pass for silence between them. Her quill scraped along the coarse parchment, and he whispered the words of his book against his left fist, so that they did not drift from his mind. That afternoon, however, even that trick could not stop his mind from wandering away from the pages.

“May I ask you a question?” he asked as he closed his book, fingertip slipping between the pages.

“You ask me a question?” she teased in return, a good-natured jibe that brough a quirk to the corners of his lips. It was true their relationship was founded on questions, but for so long it had been a one-way street. The Mark had done more than alter Thora’s abilities, it had reshaped her relationship with reality itself. Questions were inevitable. Today, however, it was Solas whose tongue burned with a question begging to be answered. But it did not concern spirits, nor the green scar upon Thora’s left hand– no. Those Solas understood, better than anyone in this castle could know. It was her he struggled to understand. Thora finished writing the end of her sentence and dipped the tip of her quill in the inkwell, turning her attention to him. A smile graced her features, eyes shining in the sun that streamed in from the windows. “Ask away, but if it’s about the next chapter of Sword & Shields I’m afraid Varric swore me to secrecy… so it’ll cost you.”

Solas snorted, shaking his head. “In that case I shan’t compromise your integrity.” He looked away, towards her still unmade bed. The frame hung low to the ground, its height carefully measured to match Thora’s short legs. It was clear from the shape of the pillows that she hadn’t slept alone last night. The mattress sank in two places, one distinctively longer than the other. No doubt it was quite the sight seeing Blackwall clamber from the Orzammar-made bed.

No… not Blackwall, it was Rainier now.

The revelation had stung him more than he had let on. When the Wardens turned from their purpose, slaying their brothers and sisters, it was Blackwall Solas had considered as the exception. His crimes alone were more than enough to damn him, but he had made a fool of the Inquisition, and of Solas himself. His hands tightened around the book he held, knuckles glowing white.

“How did you find it in yourself to forgive him?” Their eyes met again, his placid gaze masking his doubts. Thora’s jaw slackened, her expression falling from its cheerful grin. He leaned closer to her, resting his elbows carefully upon her desk, so as not to disturb her papers. “If I have overstepped my bounds,” he added, voice softer than before, “you need not answer.”

“No, I– it’s a fair question,” she said, smoothing the wrinkles from her shirt. “I guess I just wasn’t expecting it. To be honest with you, Solas, I wasn’t sure I was going to.”

“No?” Solas had watched dozens of times as Thora had turned traitors into assets, proving that a merciful choice was not always a weak one. Indeed, swinging an axe was often the easier path.

“Well, no. I mean… he lied to me. He lied to you, to all of us, and I was upset. Mad as hell. For weeks all I had to do was think about him and– bam!” She snapped. “Instant Beserker.” Thora smiled half-heartedly at him. “Blood and sweat have a way about hiding tears.” She pushed back her chair, rising to her feet. With her Anchored hand she motioned for him to follow, abandoning the shelter of her room for the sun-bleached balcony. To rest her elbows comfortably on the banister she had to rock forward on her toes, the heel of her hand propping up her chin.

Solas followed, forgetting his book upon the desk. He stopped short of joining her and lingered in the doorway. From this angle the Frostbacks framed her figure: sky and mountain met beyond her, and he could think of no better image for the Fade-touched dwarf before him. Not even if he had painted it. “But you did forgive him,” he pressed, “why?

“I doubt there’s a single innocent person here,” she said, shrugging thoughtfully. “If there’s anywhere he can earn forgiveness from the Maker it’s here. Maybe it’s cliché, but Skyhold has always felt like a place for second chances. I’ve felt that way ever since you brought us here.” Thora glanced over her shoulder at him, patting the empty spot beside her on the stone banister. “Don’t you agree?”

Her observation was more apt than she likely realised, but it failed to answer the true root of his question. Solas moved in beside her, palms pressing flat against the balustrade. The architecture itself ached with potential, seeking rebirth from the ones who now called it home. Grey eyes skirted the courtyard below, their corners crinkling when they found what Solas had not realised he sought: a shock of ginger hair hidden among the garden flowers. The smile was short-lived, lips drawing together as his mind returned to the nature of their conversation.

“Whether I do or not,” Solas said, each word chosen as deliberately as Thora’s letter, “Mercy alone does not explain your choice.” Even he could deny that Thom Rainier deserved a second chance at life, but a place in her bed? It defied reason.

Thora was quiet for a long time. Solas shifted from one foot to the other, convinced he had offended her this time. “… You’re asking why I still love him?”

“Yes.”

“It isn’t like you to be so indirect.”

“Love is a delicate topic, even among spirits. There is a reason Love is so rare.”

She laughed. “I guess you’ve got a point.” She lifted her elbows off the balustrade, rubbing her hands together to stave off the cold that crept into her fingers. Her eyes were trained below, and he wanted to ask if she had seen Thom as he had seen Ian. “I thought about that even longer,” she confessed. “I questioned every moment we had ever spent together, every exchange, everything. I kept asking myself what had been real, who it was I had been in love with all this time.” Today no tears pricked the Inquisitor’s eyes, but he could see the memory of them shining. Her voice strained as she picked at the new wound, careful not to let it bleed. “They were some of the hardest questions I’d ever answered.”

Solas’s stomach lurched at the possibilities: what other questions dogged her sleep, and would Ian one day ask the same of them? He knew it was real, that it had always been real, but in dreams Solas had felt the ice of Ian’s doubts for himself. His necklace swayed around his neck, the jaw tapping against his chest rhythmically.

“And what answers did you find?”

“That it was real.” A complex question with a simple answer, but Thora continued, “Maybe not all real, but real enough for us to start over.” Her teeth worried her lower lip, brow furrowing. “I mean, it’s not like I was blind. I knew he hadn’t always been the man I know today. Paragon Tamar– I mean, Tamar told me many Wardens had been conscripted as criminals, and it’s easy to feel when someone has something they’re trying to make up for, seeing how I’m one of them.” She rubbed the brand on her cheek unconsciously. “So I asked myself, what did I love about him? And I figured I loved how he fought for what he thought was right, how he had always treated me like I was special, even when I was just an agent. I liked his laugh, and how he spent his free time making toys for kids. And even in his… duplicity, he was still straightforward, right? What he thought, he told me.” Solas recognised the look on her face, the dazed expression that came over even the most stoic of people when they spoke of love. “In the end I decided it was never Warden Blackwall I had loved, it was Thom all along. And now that I knew him I felt I could start over with him.”

The conversation lulled, allowing Solas to turn over her answer in his head. Her logic was loose, felt rather than reasoned, but that was the nature of love.

“I see.”

She quirked a brow. “Do you? Because Cadri doesn’t.”

“Your cousin has a longer memory than most,” he noted, the surge of fondness he felt at the sound of the other Cadash’s name stymied by the reminder of his deception. One day that ire would be aimed at him, and not without cause. “If I were in your place I could not say I would do the same. Say I decided, as you did, that I loved them, no longer trusted them, what then? What is love worth without trust?”

“No much, I’ll admit. But it’s a second chance, that’s it. I asked for us to start over, not for his hand in marriage. Maybe down the road I’ll figure out you’re right, and my faith in him will never heal, but maybe it will. Just needs time.” Thora tapped her boot against the balcony, mind still racing behind her dark eyes. “I mean, we asked Cole to forgive the man who killed him. I think I can ask myself to forgive, too.”

“Cole is a spirit.”

“Then maybe we have more in common than most people think.” Her response was so quick that it must have been second nature.

“Maybe so.” He smiled proudly to himself, remembering a time when she had not known spirits beyond stories. “Thank you for indulging me, Thora. I know my question was not an easy one.”

“It’s alright, it was nice talking about it to someone who will just… listen.” She didn’t elaborate, but he could imagine the plethora of opinions she had heard since Thom had returned to Skyhold. Advice was nothing new for the Inquisitor, but for something so personal… it made him momentarily grateful for the invisibility his ears granted him.

“For what it is worth, I admire your decision.” His gaze returned to down below, where he was unsurprised to find Ian had not moved. Presumably he had fallen asleep, nose twitching as a beetle crawled across his cheek. The image would ordinarily be calming, but that afternoon his thoughts were crowded with reflections on the past, and commitments of the future. “There comes a point in any relationship where the heady feeling of new loves ebbs, and from there a choice must be made: to love, or drift apart.”

His thoughts were as much for him as they were for her, given voice so they felt tangible in a world where words too often fell flat. Solas paused to consider where he was going before he continued, “I believe for you that choice has already passed. For your sake, I hope you do not come to regret your choice, and that he makes you happy in the coming days. I have scarcely spoken to Rainier since he… returned to the Inquisition’s folds, and thought my doubts are many I am certain he must feel lucky to have your love, of which anyone ought to feel grateful to know.”

Thora laughed without shame, leaning over to check him in the hip with her shoulder. “Thanks Solas, the same goes for you.” From the corner of his vision he could see her following his gaze, smiling when she caught what he was still looking at. Down below, Ian turned. “When that time comes for you and Ian, I hope you’ll know what to do.”

Solas’s deception ran deeper than Thom’s, bringing into question the nature of the stories Ian loved to tell. It was irrational to even imagine telling Ian, just as it was irrational of Thora to forgive her love, but it was no more rational to keep the charade alive. He knew where he stood, and the trust he felt, it was only right that Ian got that same chance to decide for himself with eyes unclouded.

The wind blew, and his wolf’s jaw beat against his chest once more before he reached up to grasp it firmly in hand.

“I believe that time has already come.”

#solas #cadash #cadash x blackwall #like dust‚ i’ll rise ( thora | ic )#( my writing )#the dawn will come ( queue )#( long post )#[ had to repost this b/c it was under a read more on thora's old blog and i didnt feel like logging in to change that ]#we could be heroes– forever and ever ( solas & thora )#[ to be tagged ]

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lihikainanea · 5 years

Text

Something in the BFF!Bill storyline that I had kicking around in my head today. It’s not chronological to where I’m at in their saga, this happened before they boinked each other’s brains out.

It’s been a weird mental health day today, and sometimes I can find comfort in writing the comfort I think I need, if that makes sense. It seems to have worked.

And I think it’s important to note, when it comes to these two doofuses--that he has pulled tiger out of a lot of shit; but she has definitely done the same for him.

We’ve all got demons, don’t we?

*** He never exploded, which you could never decide if that was a good thing or not. Bill was imposing enough physically that if he had a temper added on top of that, he would be downright terrifying. But when he snapped--a rare occurrence in itself--but when he had truly had enough, his silent rage, the way he got so quiet, was somehow even more scary.

He was an open book if you knew him well, he wore his heart on his sleeve but always kept it guarded to his chest, choosing who he showed that side to. He was easy enough to read once he let you in, everything was always in his eyes. He was big on eye contact, you learned quickly, always seeking it out and pressing you for it when you spoke to him. And when he wasn’t in front of you, when you didn’t have his eyes to read, you learned to pay attention to the tone of his voice.

His tone was why your blood ran cold the minute you answered the phone.

“Hi,” was his curt greeting, “how are you?”

When Bill snapped--the rare occasion when he well and truly snapped at something, when his mind won the battle he’d been fighting sometimes for weeks and couldn’t take it anymore--his tone became sterile. Tactical. Almost mechanical.

“Are you okay?” you asked immediately.

“No,” it was dry, direct. “I need you here.” “Okay,” you hauled a duffle bag out of your closet, already shoving clothes into it blindly.

“I have a flight lined up for you. Can you be at the airport in an hour?”

“Yes,” you did a quick mental recall, trying to remember where he was. Yes, yes he wasn’t far for this one. Just one timezone over and the flight was maybe 3 hours.

“Okay. I’ll text you the boarding pass. My assistant will meet you when you land and bring you to set. I still have a few hours I need to be here,” like a drill sergeant. Cold. Factual. Completely devoid of emotion.

“Bill, I don’t need details, but tell me...something. Are you hurt?” you tried not to panic, but a cold sweat was breaking out on your neck.

“No. But I’m done.”

“You’re done?”

“I’m done, tiger,” he said, “I’ll see you soon,” and with a curt farewell, you hung up the phone. An Uber arrived at your apartment before you could even order one.

You knew what he meant by done. He had been working on a project with a director that, for the first time in his career, he wasn’t clicking with. While Bill adored your fire and grit, he had a hard time processing and relating to people who he found cruel or who harboured excessive, irrational anger. This director, when you pressed Bill for details, was making his life a living hell. Never happy with the takes while simultaneously not being able to tell the actors what he wanted to see, flying off the hook at the entire crew, pushing the actors beyond the limits of their comfort zones without creating a safe space on the working set. Bill had been FaceTiming you a lot more than usual on this gig, and each time he looked more and more stressed. His empathic side, one that he relied on so heavily in his life, was in shambles. Bill was a sponge in most social situations, reading people and absorbing their energies. When surrounded with nothing but negativity, nothing but anger and blind rage and criticisms, he disappeared into his own head and sometimes had trouble puling himself back out of it.

From the sounds of it, just from a phone call, he had snapped. He was, you knew, in the midst of a mental breakdown that was the result of a nightmare director, a project he had originally been so excited to work on, and his own demons. Bill’s mind was a complex place, and for as much kindness and gentleness that he showed you in your friendship, he sometimes forgot to treat himself the same way.

You texted him when you boarded, again when you landed. You texted him when his assistant ushered you into a car, hopping in the driver’s seat and taking off. He hadn’t responded. The drive to set was under the half hour mark, and the car had barely stopped before you were out and trying to find him. There was no scene in action, but the director was yelling anyway. You cringed.

One of Bill’s buttons--few as they were, but easy to push--was yelling. Belligerent, aggressive yelling.

You couldn’t find Bill, instead hearing murmurings from the crew of an actor that had snapped. Had walked off, mid scene, and locked himself in a bathroom stall. Had refused to come back out, like a diva. Wasn’t answering his phone. Was wasting everybody’s time on set like an arrogant prick, as they waited for this delicate flower of an actor to get his shit together. You seethed. They were all glancing in the same area, a hallway slightly to the right of the enormous green screen. You headed that way, and stopped in front of the last door. You texted Bill to unlock it, but he didn’t respond. Grabbing a bobby pin from your bag, you jimmied the lock just enough and slammed your palm into it. The door creaked open.

Bill was scrunched up in the furthest corner on the floor, his legs bent at sharp angles and his knees coming up under his chin. Cigarette butts littered the floor around him, a lit one between his fingers. He didn’t move to put it out as he usually would, when he saw you.

“Hey bud,” you said. You approached him, slowly, as one would an unpredictable animal.

“Hey, kid,” he said. His voice was still devoid of emotion, and his look terrified you. His usually expressive eyes were stone, his jaw locked, his entire face was ice.

You knelt in front of him, waiting until he lazily slid his gaze to your eyes. He looked away quickly.

“You want to talk about it?” you asked.

“Nope.”

“Do you want to get out of here?” you tried again.

“Nope,” he took a long drag of his cigarette, turning his mouth to blow the smoke away from you. He was stoic.

You knew there was no sense in asking him what he wanted to do. His mind wasn’t functioning, and this was the most far gone you had ever seen him. So you tried another approach. Unzipping your bag, you took out a colouring book and the pencil case that had kept you occupied on the plane. You gently set them down on the floor.

“Can I touch you?” you asked, quietly. You didn’t dare move. He nodded his head.

“Bill, look at me,” your tone was gentle, but firm. Working his jaw, he took another haul of his cigarette and stubbed it out before he brought his eyes to yours.

“Can I touch you?”

“Yeah,” he rasped. You still kept your movements slow, sitting down beside him and squishing your shoulder into his side. Coaxing his legs down from their sharp angles, you tossed one of your legs over his and rested your head on his shoulder. You felt him rest his chin on top of your head, breathing in, before plunking his cheek down. Tearing a page from the colouring book, you placed it on his lap and grabbed the pencil case in front of you. You started to colour. It took a few minutes, but eventually his hand reached, plucking a crayon and starting to colour between the lines of the drawing you had given him.

You don’t know how long you stayed like that. You had no intentions of moving until Bill told you he was ready. You checked in every now and then, nothing pushing or urgent in your tone, just wanting to see where he was at in his mind. You would have sat with him, like that, for days if he needed it. And he would have done the same for you, you knew.

Eventually, he nudged you. Shifting a little, he moved you until you sat in front of him. He looked down, fiddling with his hands, and you gently placed one of yours on top. The other tilted his chin up.

“I know what they’re saying about me right now,” he started quietly.

“Who gives a shit what they’re saying about you right now,” you said, your words were biting but you tried to keep your tone level.

“I’m done, tiger,” he continued, “I tried to make this work and I can’t.”

You nodded, staying silent.

“I can’t do this. But I can’t walk away, either.”

“Why not?” you asked.

“What if it ruins my career?”

It was a reality. You told him that. Walking away from a project with a big director attached to it could have been career suicide, you knew that even when you had nothing to do with his world. But you also knew it was still early in the project, you knew that he paid a lot of money to publicists, agents, assistants, anyone who could manage his public image. You knew there would be a way to spin this--creative differences, at worst--that could justify his dropping out of the project. You knew that people with hearts of gold were easy to pick up on, and even in the smoke and mirrors that were part of being a celebrity, that would somehow shine through. It took some time, a few more cigarettes for him, but he eventually nodded.

“Get me out of here, kid,” he said, his eyes pained, as he stubbed out his last cigarette. You brushed the hair from his forehead, helping him to his feet.

“You trust me, Billy Goat?” you asked. He nodded.

“Good,” you pulled out your phone, firing a quick text to his assistant for her car keys, and the location of his trailer. You plugged your earphones into the jack and tugged Bill’s shirt so he’d bend into your reach. You put your hands on either side of his face.

“You need to do exactly as I say. Your eyes stay on me, at all times. You look at no one. You don’t take the earphones out. You listen to no one, you speak to no one. You do nothing except hold my hand and follow me. Got it?”

He nodded.

“I love you, bud” you said as you kissed his cheek, tugging the hood on his sweater up around his head.

“I love you too, kid,” He let you place the earphones in his ears, wincing a little as you cranked the volume on a Nirvana song. You popped your phone into his pocket.

“Let’s get you the fuck out of here,” you said, but it fell on deaf ears. Grabbing his hand, you unlocked the door. His assistant stood beside it, and you grabbed her keys from her outstretched hand and blew past her. With Bill hot on your heels, you stalked off set. When the director yelled after you, you barely spared him a glance.

“He’s done,” you yelled back, not breaking pace.

You identified Bill’s trailer from the instructions his assistant sent you. Locking the door behind you, you gently pushed him onto the couch and plucked an earbud from his ear.

“Anything other than your bag in here?” you asked. He shook his head. You shoved the earbud back in, grabbed his knapsack, hauled him off the couch, and started toward his assistant’s car.

You took your phone back when you were safely the car, looking up directions to the airport and texting his assistant to have his luggage from his hotel shipped to him back home. Bill stayed silent, his face still blank as he leaned against the window.

He let you guide him into the airport, plunking him down in a chair while you figured out a route back home. A flight would leave in two hours, but an overnight layover was needed at the next stop before being able to fly home from there. You gave the agent your credit card.

It was akin to dealing with a child, the way you had to guide Bill through all the steps. You had to tell him to take off his shoes, when to put them back on. You had to remind him to drink some water, and when he squished next to you on the small plane seat with his legs jutting into the aisle, you managed to gently coerce him into eating something. When you landed for the overnight layover, you booked a room at the hotel there and shoved Bill into the shower. When you emerged from yours, you sat next to him on the bed where he had curled up. He reached for your hand, placing it on his wet hair. You threaded your fingers through it. It was only then, when he looked at you, that you started to see your best friend in the eyes that had been blank since you busted the lock on the bathroom door.

“Thanks, tiger,” he said.

“Any time, bud. We’re in this together, all of it. Always,” you reassured.

“This is gonna be one hell of a shit show,” he sighed, pinching his eyes shut. You moved your hand from his hair, smoothing your fingers over his features.

“Those are my favourite,” you said. It earned you a laugh and you kissed his cheek.

“Get some sleep, Billy Goat. We’ll deal with the rest tomorrow. Together.”

#BFF!Bill #BFF Bill #bill skarsgard drabble #bill skarsgard fic #bill skarsgard

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