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imthebadguyyy · 3 months

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the bridgerton blues

pairing : anthony bridgerton x reader

fandom : bridgerton

synopsis : it's the first time after your wedding that anthony sees you sporting the signature bridgerton colour : blue, and it does things to him that he can only express in a much more....physical manner.

warnings : smut, heavy smut and excessive amount of fluff

a/n : i miss my grumpy viscount!!! happy reading :)

anthony huffed impatiently, foot tapping against the marble floor at bridgerton manor.

the season had begun again, and much to his relief, he would only be a spectator this year, having married the love of his life, lady, well, current viscountess y/n, which meant he didn't have to deal with the frills and fancies of the hawk like mama's in the ton, awaiting the right moment to swoop upon him with their daughters.

but by God, you were taking forever to get dressed and come down to leave for lady danbury's ball. beside him, benedict and colin sat, engrossed in a game of chess, while francesca and eloise lounged on the couch in the drawing room, catching up about life.

his mother was with his darling wife, much to his surprise, helping her get ready for a ball. he had been caught off guard when his mother had bustled in, dressed in a powdery blue gown, and had proceeded to shoo him out of the room.

"what exactly is keeping mama and y/n?" colin asked, brow furrowed in concentration as he focused on the chess board.

"if I knew I would tell you brother" anthony mumbled, checking the watch that hung on the golden chain from his waistcoat, smiling as he traced the cover, suddenly hit by a burst of nostalgia, and a surge of fondness for his late father.

he brushed it off when a giggling hyacinth came running down the staircase, leaping into his arms, forcing him to rush to catch her, eyes widening in surprise.

"hyacinth! you must always give me a prior warning or I may not be able to catch you" he chided, tucking a stray curl behind her ear and setting her gently on the ground.

"brother!! wait till you see y/n/n!! she looks like a princess!" his youngest sister exclaimed, almost vibrating with excitement. a shy gregory emerged, blushing a little as he nodded, making the three older bridgerton boys smirk, well aware of his little crush on anthony's wife.

when anthony had first befriended his wife, they had been at a mere age of ten, and anthony had rescued y/n when she had fallen off her horse at a picnic with his family and the cowper's.

ever since then, they had been inseparable, joint at the hip and at the heart.

it was of no surprise to anyone in the ton when finally, ages later, he had announced he was marrying the lady montgomery, or as everyone fondly knew her, "y/n/n"

"why so bashful greg?" benedict jested, watching his youngest brother turn a dark crimson.

"n-nothing" he stuttered out, darting in to see his sisters.

"it's because of y/n! I'm telling you brother, she looks like an absolute angel!" hyacinth chirped in, now bouncing about from step to step, just as the door of Anthony's room creaked open, and the dowager viscountess stepped out.

"she's ready" she smiled warmly at her son's, hurrying in to get her daughters to mark the momentous occasion.

brows furrowed, the eyes of the bridgertons rested upon the long winding staircase, awaiting to see what exactly was this magical outfit that had their mother and sister gushing like birds.

and what anthony saw, made his jaw drop to the very ground.

at the very top, his darling wife came into view, hair in sleek, meticulous curls, perfectly cast up in an intricate updo, adorned with pearls, framing her face with the delicate curls. her makeup was subtle, emphasizing her flowing complexion with a touch of rosy blush and wine coloured lips.

she adorned a pearl necklace and matching earrings, gifted to her by anthony himself, adding a timeless elegance to her stature.

but what really caught everyones attention was the dress that she wore, more specifically, the colour of the dress she wore.

a rich dark blue silk gown, carefully tailored, hugged her frame, showcasing the intricate details that add to its allure. the bodice, adorned with delicate embroidery, depicting subtle butterfly motifs that caught the light as the she moved down the stairs. the neckline gracefully framed her collarbone, delicate lace butterflies attached to the neckline,while the sleeves tapered down to her wrists, showcasing more of the exquisite lacework that adorned her body.

the skirt of the gown was a masterpiece of craftsmanship, flowing generously in layers of silk that rustled with each step. the deep, rich hue of the fabric evoked a sense of opulence, reminiscent of midnight skies. as she walked down, the silk caught the light, casting a mesmerizing play of shadows and highlights.

the dress matched anthony's waistcoat perfectly, and the sight was enough to make the viscount choke over nothing.

as he saw his wife adorned in the resplendent dress for the first time, his eyes widened with genuine admiration.

a hushed gasp escaped his parted lips as he took in the sight before him.

his wife, cloaked in the elegance of the dark blue gown, the bridgerton blues appeared to be like a living portrait of timeless beauty.

a warm smile formed on his lips, expressing both surprise and deep appreciation for the grace and sophistication she was emanating.

"my darling" he murmured as he swept forward, extending his arm to welcome you into them.

smiling sweetly at the bridgerton clan, you floated down, linking your arm with anthony's.

"sister, you look utterly perfect in blue!" benedict exclaimed, pressing a delicate kiss to your hand, as violet fondly caressed your cheek.

"doesn't she look like a princess brother?!" hyacinth squealed, looking excitedly at anthony. "just like one out of the fairytales" he said, looking at you with nothing but admiration and love and fondness.

"you really do look utterly regal" colin said, flashing a warm smile at you. eloise and francesca came upto you, with even eloise admitting that the dress you were wearing was nothing short of a work of art, while francesca gushed over how the silhouette was so perfect for you.

"alright, we must leave if we want to reach lady danbury's ball on time!" violet said, clapping her hands, leading her children out to where the carriages awaited.

"wait behind for just a second my love" anthony whispered into your ear, as he walked up to his valet to whisper something into his ear.

slowly, the other bridgertons departed, after you promised them to join them very soon, ignoring the smirks and nudges colin and benedict sent your way.

anthony pulled you into his study, hand gently caressing your waist, feeling the rich silk in his hands, the other hand gently reaching for your chin, lifting it to look into your eyes.

"you look utterly divine my beloved" he whispered fingers gently fondling your face, eyes absorbing every detail of your face, not that he hadn't already memorised it.

"thank you my dear" you whispered back, hands settling on his broad shoulders, taking in his waistcoat as well, the dark blue velvet clinging to every rippling muscle in his body, brass buttons complementing the coat.

"i always knew you'd look stunning in bridgerton blue but....it seems as though the bridgerton blue was crafted for you" he murmured, tightening his grip on your waist, "so stunning that infact, i do not feel the need to leave for lady danbury's ball, for I'd much rather stay here with my breathtakingly beautiful wife" he murmured again, lips ghosting over your own as his hands squeezed your waist, drawing you flush against his body.

"my lord, we cannot... we must be present at the first ball of the season" you lamely protested, heart hammering against your chest as the intoxicating scent of his musky, woodsy cologne filled your nostrils.

anthony dropped his lips to your neck, lips brushing a feather soft kiss to the sensitive skin, drawing a gasp from you.

"what if we do not go? what if we just stay here and...i worship my wife in the way she deserves? like the goddess she is?" he asked, like gently pressing kisses down to your collarbone, still as light as a feather, just enough to ignite something feral in you, but also enough to keep you wanting more.

"my lord it's the first ball of the season, and we have to-"

you were cut off by anthony's lips pressing against yours.

they were soft and plush against yours, pressing perfectly like a jigsaw puzzle, initiating a warm glow in the pit of your tummy.

as your lips met, the sensation was like a feather's gentle caress — soft, fleeting, and subtly warm. it feels like a delicate dance, a tender exploration that sparked a gentle flutter within you. the touch was akin to the brush of downy feathers, teasing and inviting, as if he was testing the waters of intimacy.

yet, as the moment unfolded, a magnetic pull takes hold, drawing you deeper into the realm of passion. the softness transforms, gradually intensifying into a fiery connection. the initial delicacy gave way to a fervent exchange, each kiss building upon the other with a growing hunger.

your lips, once feather-light, were now engaged in a rhythmic and passionate dance. the subtle warmth amplified into a blazing fire, and what began as a gentle exploration evolved into a fervent expression of desire.

the world around you faded and in that heightened connection, every kiss becomes an electric charge, a testament to the undeniable chemistry between your two souls entwined in the artistry of passion.

anthony's hands ran rampant on your body, clutching every part of your body through the silk dress, yet taking care to not scrunch the silk in anyway.

"you have no idea what you do me darling" he growled against your lips, drawing back for just a moment to watch your chest heave and eyes glaze over, hands clutching his coat and cravat so tight he feared you would rip it off.

"every breath you take, every word you speak, the very sound of your melodious voice and the very beat of your heart, all allure me to you, draw me to you like a moth to a flame" he continued, his own heart hammering against his chest.

his chest rose and fell with every word, eyes ablaze with burning passion. "every second of every day, i crave you, i long for you, i need you, and it drives me feral. but the sight of you in my colour makes me want to rip off that very dress off your body, claiming you as mine in more ways than one" he growled, hands scrunching the material on your behind.

"anthony..i crave you every second of the day as well. i need you" you whispered, a soft whimper slipping past your lips.

"hush my sweet darling" he said, sending you a saccharine sweet smile.

then, much to your chagrin, he took his hands off your waist, fixing the material and fixing his own coat.

"now, we must hasten to lady danbury's" he smirked" and you groaned, a painful throbbing between your legs becoming more prominent.

"but my lord-" you protested, only to be cut off by another searing kiss. he kissed you deep and long, and then drew back, pushing a stray curl on your forehead back behind your ear.

"our family awaits dearest" he smiled, and gently led you out to the hall.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

the grand ballroom at lady danbury's unfolded into a dazzling spectacle as it embraced the opulence of a gold and maroon theme. golden hues enveloped the space, casting a warm, regal glow. glittering chandeliers, adorned with intricate gold details, hung from the ceiling, their crystals refracting light in a dance of elegance.

luxurious maroon fabrics draped the walls, creating a sumptuous backdrop that added depth to the golden ambiance. tables adorned with golden tablecloths and maroon accents contributed to the harmonious blend of colors. golden candle holders flickered with the soft glow of candles, casting a gentle radiance on the rich maroon floral centerpieces.

the women's dresses shimmered with embellishments, and the men's attire featured accents, creating a visual symphony of sophistication, into which you walked with anthony, arms interlaced, as you bowed before queen charlotte, who had taken quite a liking to you.

"it's lovely to see the bridgertons led by a couple as magnanimous as you" she bestowed a rare compliment, bringing a hot flush to your cheeks and even to anthony's pale visage. "but now we anxiously await the news of a young bridgerton" she said pointedly, and you kept your eyes low, trying to ignore the heat blooming in your cheek.

around you, guests were engaged in a dance, the dance floor became a stage for a waltz of colors, with the many colours and tones reflecting in the mirrored walls. the orchestra, bathed in the warm ambiance, played melodies that echoed the richness of the color palette.

you noticed simon and daphne dancing, looking fondly at each other, and saw colin sharing a dance with young penelope featherington, which made you smile, always having harbored a soft spot for the girl.

you spotted eloise by the food table, with francesca, both enjoying the strawberries that were being served. benedict seemed engrossed in exploring the rich collection of paintings in the hall, and was surrounded by a group of friends.

anthony led you over to his sisters, a soft kiss to your wrist a promise to be back in a moment lingering on his lips, as he was dragged off by countless lords for a drink and a conversation about the next round of a hunt they were engaging in.

as eloise began to speak about the many cruelties of lady featherington, you spotted cressida cowper scowling over at the two of you, dressed in a pink so bright you felt momentarily blinded. she shot a contemptuous look at you, scoffing at your gown and sharing a laugh with lady cowper, that had your eyebrow creasing with insecurity.

much to your horror, she began to march over to you, along with her mother and lady featherington, much to your dismay. you searched desperately for your mother-in-law, but found her engrossed in conversation with the queen.

"my my, if it isn't the happy bridgertons" cressida sniped, flashing you a tight lipped smile. "hello miss cowper" you smiled, ignoring the anxiety bubbling in your tummy.

"cressida" eloise said coldly, linking her arm with yours. she was well aware of the contemptuous rumours she had spread about you when you had begun courting anthony and had made it her mission to protect you from her.

"what a rather unusual colour for you dear" lady cowper commented, eyes trailing down your body in disdain.

"it gives you the impression of being a little washed out" she stated, opening her fan to hide her smirk.

you ignored the tear that sprang to your eyes as she continued to comment, on the fall of the dress, the shape of the silhouette and the way your jewellery was far too showy.

you could feel eloise glowering beside you but silently begged her to keep calm, not wanting to lose her calm in front of everyone.

to your surprise, a familiar baritone cut in, a nd a strong arm wrapped around your midriff and waist.

your husband appeared beside you, a smile on his face that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"i see why you might think that, lady cowper, for all you can pull off is that rather obnoxious shade of viscous pink, and while i understand your envy at my wife's ability to outshine everyone else here in any colour she chooses, i must remind you are speaking to the viscountess bridgerton, and hence must adhere to the degree respect she commands" he stated coolly, hand gripping your waist so tight you were sure it would leave marks.

stunned speechless, the cowper's backed away, egos more than bruised and enraged , subject to sniggers and chuckles from the other lords and ladies in the room. your brother walked to anthony from across the hall, patting him on the back and whispering a "good man" to him as he hugged you, and eloise drew anthony into a hug as well.

anthony led the two of you over to his mama, who couldn't hide a smile herself at the love her son had for his wife, so reminiscent of the way their father had loved her.

"I am sorry if I caused humiliation to your name mama, but I cannot and will not let anyone talk to my wife that way" he said firmly, only to be cut off by his mother.

"I believe everyone here has been waiting to say that to miss cowper since the beginning of time, my darling, so take your wife and go home. you have done your job and proved your love and passion and told everyone that your relationship rhymes true" she said, drawing you into a warm hug and bidding you goodbye.

the carriage ride home was silent as your held anthony's hand tight, his thumb tracing patterns over the gloves you were donning, a pearly white to match your jewels.

"thank you my love" you whispered to him, eyes glimmering with unshed tears.

"my darling, i love you, all of you. please do not ever belittle yourself, because your beauty is awe worthy" he said, eyes contorted as if he was in pain at the thought of you being in pain.

"I'll try my best not to" you whispered against, leaning forward to press your foreheads together. and you stayed like that till bridgerton manor came into view.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

frenzied kisses were pressed against your lips as anthony lifted you into his arms, earning a singular gasp from your lips. his hands, one wrapped tightly under your bottom and the other around your back was strong, as you wrapped your legs around his waist and he led you upstairs, ignoring the scurrying valet and maids and your ladies in waiting as he made it to your shared bedroom.

he dropped you gently on the bed, towering above you, hands shoving the material of your dress up. his hands crept along your thighs stealthily, finding the hooks of your stockings to your thigh garter, slowly dragging it down, exposing your bare skin to him, suppressing a groan at the soft skin.

to his surprise you reached up and grabbed him by the cravat, untying it and pulling him down to meet your lips. you kissed him roughly, a frenzied battle, with teeth and tongue clashing as he shrugged off his waist coat and began to unbutton his shirt, watching as you removed your jewellery and kept in on the table beside his bed.

his hands reached for your dress, carefully untying the many laces and unbuttoning the many buttons on your dress, watching as your bosom heaved in the corset wore.

deft fingers unhooked the corset without a struggle, and you moaned when the cold air hit your nipples, making them harden, as you pushed your chest out towards him.

anthony growled, the sound reverberating in his throat as he reached down to unbutton his tan pants, leaving him in just his underwear. his lips attacked your neck, biting into the delicate flesh and pressing kiss after kiss, sucking deep marks and hickies that were sure to stay for days after.

you raked your nails up and down his neck, stroking the skin there and raking your hands upto his hair, gently scratching his scalp as he trailed kisses down to your breasts.

his mouth enveloped your nipple in his mouth, tongue flicking and swirling around the sensitive nub.

he continued his ministrations, taking only a moment to move his mouth to your other breast and leaving lovebites on the skin.

he settled in between your thoughts, hips gently grinding into yours, as he licked and sucked to his heart’s desire, attempting to alleviate the growing tent in his pants.

you were beginning to pant, and he continued to pinch and stroke your nipple. his tongue wreaked havoc on one while his fingers gently tugged on the other. anthony could not wait any longer, the pain of the straining in his pants making him more loopy than he would admit, and he pulled away from your breast, a string of saliva from his lips to your breast.

he came back up to your mouth, kissing you with desperation. "i adore you" he painted above you, before kissing down your tummy to your thighs.

he stopped at the junction between your thighs, inhaling the musk of your scent.

he reached for the cotton underwear you had on, gently pulling it down, and pushing your thighs apart, and a wave of cold air floated across your inner thighs, so open and exposed now.

anthony began to press hot, open mouthed kisses to the bare expanse of your thighs, stopping just below your pussy lips each time.

mere moments later, you felt an entirely new sensation— anthony's wet, warm tongue sliding through your folds. a cry of pleasure ripped from your throat, as you looked down at anthony, who had crawled between your legs with his tongue buried at the apex of your thighs.

your slick dripped down your pussy lips, costing them in your honey, and anthony licked it all up as if it was nectar and ambrosia, lowering his face to lick a long strip through your entire slit, before tilting his face even deeper into your pussy, swirling around up to your engorged clit and licking all around it and on the top of it.

the action had your hips jolting as he sucked on the nub, causing flashes of white to flash before your eyes.

"you taste more delightful than i could ever have imagined" he breathed licking the sour-sweet liquid off his lips. "my own precious honey pot" he cooed, making you flush again and your body heated up.

he sucked harder on your clit, fingers slipping into your slit to slide up and down, each stroking made your hips flail wildly.

“you taste so sweet” he murmurs, and the brush of his breath sears against your skin. the low rumbling of his voice, so characteristic of him, are dripped in hunger and arousal, the heat spreading under your skin and threatening to explode like a supernova.

"i have longed to have you squirming on my tongue my love. i will have you screaming my name until your lips know no other" he promised.

with a ravenous look at your heaving form, anthony lowered his mouth to your throbbing center again and licked a bold stripe up your clit, the sensitive bud jolting in shock and you scream in pleasure,

the ever composed lord bridgerton moans against your cunt when you tug his hair, hands holding down your hips as he watches you squirm. then anthony rolls your clit with his teeth and you come apart with a scream, hands gripping onto his hair for dear life.

you come, cunt clenching down, spasming around his tongue where he has you stretched open. everything else disappears for a moment, your body weightless with pure unadulterated bliss.

anthony shifts so he is in between your legs again, watching the fluttering of your pussy as you clench around nothing. your eyes are trained on his hips and he feels a surge of pride.

his cock was one not only of great size but of greater girth and greater skill, and he adored nothing more than watching your eyes become as large as saucers as you looked at his poor cock straining again as it had been ever since he saw you in his signature colour.

trained hands guided his cock to your entrance, tapping against it for a few seconds before he dragged the tip through your slick, making your body shudder at the stimulation. and then, he pressed a kiss to your neck, hips slamming against yours.

the first thrust was deep and claiming,and you cried out at the perfect stretch of him in your pussy.

you could barely think straight, hands digging into his back and nails sinking into his skin.

"so fucking perfect,” he murmured into your ear, rasped and breathless as he nipped on your ear. "'feel so good wrapped around my cock. so wet and warm for me my sweet sweet beloved. fuck, you're so tight right now. squeezing me so well, you love my cock, do you not my angel?"

"yes yes i love you and your cock" you changed as a prayer, eyes bashful at the use of the dirty word. "look at how your cunt clenches around me" he groaned, head dipping into the crook of your neck as his hips slammed into yours repeatedly.

you could hear the headboard banging against the wall as the pace of anthony's thrusts had your body sliding against the silken sheets.

and then he stopped

he stayed there, buried inside you to the hilt, and his cock twitched excitedly inside you. you watched the way he gripped the bedsheets tightly with his fingers until they went hite. it sent heat and pleasure into the pit of your stomach and you were sure you are going to burn. it was far too good, far too much, brimming on the edge of being overwhelming.

there’s no warning as he pulled out, leaving his pulsing tip in, and then he thrusted all the way back inside, in one long and slick stroke back inside you, deep and rough. his cock slammed into a spot in you that has you screaming, something absolutely fucking delicious and it steals away your breath and makes you cry out.

and then he grabs your legs, pushing them up towards your legs as he almost folded you in half, pushing your legs so far apart they almost touched your head, as he moved to his knees for a better angle.

his hips thrusted wildly as he kept fucking you, hand rubbing furiously at your sensitive clit, as you whined and moaned and screamed. he watched as your cunt, pink and perfect fluttered and twitched, and his ears revelled at the sound of the filthy, wet squelching that echoed in the room from your dripping cunt.

he landed a harsh smack to the back of your thigh that had you screaming as he then pressed his tongue to it, sucking a hickey on the spot.

sweat dripped down his forehead and yours, as you began to thrust your hips up to meet his perfect strokes, while feeling like his cock was going to split you apart.

"i want nothing more than to fill you with my seed" he growled, over the sound of your skin slapping together over and over again.

"fill me with your seed my lord. let me have carry your kin" you murmured, and you watched as anthony groaned, hand wrapping around your throat.

"such a minx" he grinned, squeezing and watching your eyes roll back.

without a warning, he flipped you over so you were on top, and his deft hands steadied you at the waist.

then he began to slowly pick your hips up, working you up and down on his cock, slamming you up and down on his cock, until you got the hang of it.

anthony felt himself drooling as he took in the way your tits bounced and you bounced on his cock as you ride him, nails now scratching down his chest as he laid a harsh spank to your ass that had you clenching on his cock harder.

he watched your body desperately ride him for all he was worth, thighs jiggling as they clapped against his own, and he pinched the fat around your waist and belly, teeth nipping at your nipple to increase the stimulation.

"m-my lord! I am going to cum!" you moaned loudly, only to turn to a wail as anthony's fingers unleashed a furious assault on your clit, as he rubbed it up and down and side to side and everywhere, covering his fingers in your slick.

with a scream of his name, you came all over his dick and his tummy, your juices spilling out of you like a fountain, watching as he scooped it up with his fingers to lick it clean.

he slammed your hips down on his even harder as you whined, and you felt his stomach tense and breathing stutter as he came, shooting his load inside you, and finally sinking into the pillow, limp.

panting, you rolled off of him, mind cockdrunk and unable to move. anthony peppered kisses to your skin and kissed the spots where he'd been rough.

"you were phenomenal, my love" he whispered, and to your intrigue, his fingers trialed down to your cunt.

you watched as he gently slid a finger in to your hole, shushing and kissing you as he blocked it with his fingers.

"i cannot have a single drop of me spilling out of you" he murmured and you moaned.

"i adore you", he mumbled, "my dear wife" he concluded.

"and i adore you, my dear husband" you smiled, meeting his lips in a sugar sweet kiss.

who would've known that wearing the bridgerton blue was all it would take for you and anthony to announce to the ton in the next three months that you were expecting the first bridgerton heir?

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

a/n : I've missed writing for bridgerton so much!! i really hope you enjoy this, and as always likes reblogs comments opinions etc are appreciated!! sending u all love and happiness and remember, my inbox is always open and i love making new friends!! happy reading ☺️♥️

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dragonsandgayppl · 1 year

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purple hawke introducing fenris as their babygirl and

#i found this in my drafts #i have no idea where i was going after and i just know this is probably funnier #fenris #purple hawke #dragon age #da2 #i need to decide my tagging system for this blog hrm #not fic #anyways update on the fic for anybody curious #my life is beating my ass with real life shit #i have had 0 ability to do anything creative but i am still thinking about the boy <3 #whenever i have drawing energy i want to make portraits in a disco elysium inspired style #to match his skills #but i have no idea if ill ever be able to finish that as a project #hopefully!#my new icon is from a test run where i attempted the style #its got fade green which is funny because it was before i even thought about this fic #it couldnt be lyrium veins the energy isn't there #but maybe with some reworking could be someone else #anyways if somebody read all these tags thank you?

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ceilidho · 1 month

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take me home, country road

[ao3]

You have nothing on your person apart from a hastily packed suitcase and the dress you came into town wearing, on the run from trouble back home. Too bad John's missing a bride that matches your description. Or: the 1800s (mistaken) mail order bride au (part 7)

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6

You watch him like a hawk after that.

Not because anything’s changed. In fact, nothing’s changed. Seeing him drag a man by the collar of his shirt, the look in his eyes punishing and severe, has only confirmed the essential imbalance in your relationship. You don’t suffer the same fate as that man being dragged from the bar not because of mercy or leniency or forgiveness, but because the truth hasn’t yet come out. You’re safe because the truth is still hidden, a fact that could change at the drop of a hat.

The thought makes you wary. You watch John in the days after with a scrutiny that borders on the paranoid. Does he already know? Has he left you stewing in ignorance all this time while waiting for the proper authorities to arrive? When he looks at you, does he see the blood on your hands? Does he know that he’s looking at a murderer? Does he know that your sins weigh on you like heavy stones dragging you down into the earth?

Every time the porch steps creak, your heart turns to stone and betrayal rushes up your throat like acid, and it burns.

Then the door opens and John walks in. His face lights up when his eyes fall on you. “Hi darlin’.”

All you can do is let out a shuddering breath and slump into his embrace.

You’re waiting for it to happen. Even when he pulls you into his chest at night, a big arm settled around your waist and his palm spread wide over your belly, you tense and wait for the truth to come out. But all he does is sigh and fall asleep, tucking you closer into his chest. You stare at the wall until the grooves between the wooden boards start to expand, the darkness encompassing every inch of the wall before bleeding down to the floorboards and up to the ceiling. Then you wake up and it’s the next day.

The truth is imminent. It shines its light on the darkened path before it and stalks forward. You cower in the shadows waiting for it to find you, hopeful that it won’t. Sure that it will.

There’s never a good moment to pack your bags and leave, and the longer you stay—as the days turn into a week since you first disembarked from the train and wandered into a town soaked in russet and red—the harder it seems to get a moment of peace. Though John wasn’t exaggerating when he said that a sheriff’s job never stops, you hadn’t thought that it would involve so much.

Between chores and John and the townsfolk, you can’t get a moment to yourself. The closest you come to it is when Kate leaves you to your thoughts while she helps the customers. Even then, she still comes by every now and again to offer you a tea or brandy ball to suck on.

You resent the idea that you need to be babysat, but he isn’t exactly wrong either. You’re not too stubborn to admit that. Under Kate’s watchful eye, you aren’t scurrying off anywhere. Instead, you help out around the shop where you can, offering to stock the shelves and sweep the floors. On occasion, you even get on your hands and knees in front of the shop to pull up the weeds, but that draws more attention than you’re comfortable with. They simply aren’t as concerned with weeds out here.

Most of your time is spent loitering around town waiting for John to take you home. Sometimes you join him for the day, trailing along after him when he goes out to collect the taxes or you accompany him when he has to attend trials and hearings in the court house, where you sit quietly in the public gallery and watch in rapt attention as the magistrate conducts the court proceedings, but there are days where that’s simply not possible.

“You’re gonna spend the day with Laswell, alright?” John tells you, pinching your chin to tilt your head up.

He loves that little gesture, you’ve realized. Loves to touch you and guide you with a hand on your back or chin or arm, a hand brushing down the side of your waist to pull you in, gripping you by the nape of your neck just to hold. Even now, in broad daylight and in front of the window to the general store where anyone could look out and see the two of you, he keeps his thumb there, reluctant to let you go. The thought makes your neck go hot.

“When will you be back?” you ask.

“Later this afternoon—before dusk, so don’t go worrying about heading home without me. I have to see to something a few towns over.”

“Oh…what do they need you for?”

John frowns. “You’ve got an awful lot of questions today.”

“Never mind. Have a safe trip.” You don’t know why his reluctance to tell you anything frustrates you so, especially when he has good reason to, but even you can hear the way your voice grows petulant.

His thumb squeezes against your chin, holding your head in place when you try to turn away. “I’m overseeing a hanging. Couple of men were found guilty of murder.” He studies you so intensely that he can practically see in your eyes the way your stomach turns at that. “See, I thought that might upset you. This is why I didn’t wanna tell you, darlin’.”

“It’s fine,” you say, swallowing. “I’m a big girl.”

“Yeah,” John agrees, brushing his thumb up your chin until it tugs at your bottom lip, watching the way it snaps back into place when he releases it.

He makes every moment feel like a last goodbye and a homecoming. You almost can’t meet his eyes under the intensity of his stare, but you also can’t look away. Not with how he looks at you like some precious thing.

You expect it before it happens, but when he dips his head to plant a soft kiss on your lips, you go breathless for a moment. His beard is bristly against your skin, just south of coarse. The kiss turns into another, even more tender than the first. You resent the way you lean forward when he pulls away, chasing after him.

“You be good for Miss Kate, okay?” he says, waiting for your reassurance.

“I will,” you rasp, mortified at how easily he unravels you and how plainly you let it show. John grins when he hears the tremble in your voice.

Then he leaves, riding off towards where the horizon dips below the visible and you watch until he disappears completely, falling away with it. Kate beckons you inside after that, and it’s just hot enough out that you gather up the skirt of your dress and follow after her, climbing up the steps to the general store.

Kate is a tough nut to crack. She’s kind and never rebuffs your questions when you make conversation, but she also isn’t exactly forthcoming with personal information. She seems more than happy to let the conversation lapse into silence. When there isn’t a customer to serve, she’ll take out a leather-bound notebook and write, going so deep into her own thoughts that you sometimes need to call her name a couple times before she’ll respond.

“Kate,” you say again, waiting for her to finally blink and look up, which she does with only the faintest glimmer of impatience in her eyes. “Care to join me on a walk? I need to stretch my legs and…well, I don’t know my way around just yet.”

She snaps her book shut, winding a bit of string around it before placing it back beneath the counter. “There’s a restaurant on the other side of town if you care for a bite as well. I could do with something to eat.”

It’s not as much of a walk as you might have expected. You learn along the way that Kate has lived in town for several years, taking the shop over from her predecessor, a former employer prone to drinking and prone to expiring from that very same vice. She speaks of him with familiarity and affection for the dead, but none of the longing and misery that you’ve come to expect from someone grieving a loss.

“You came far just to find a husband,” she remarks when the two of you are seated at a windowside booth in the restaurant. She spreads a cloth over her lap and you follow her lead.

You bite your lip. “I’ve heard good things about the frontier.”

Kate looks amused by that. “Now who’s been lying to you?”

You laugh, half genuine and half to keep the atmosphere light. You don’t tell her that no one lied to you about going out west because no one had said those words to you in the first place. There hadn’t been enough time for a conversation after the event, only enough time to unlock the study door and wash your hands of the blood in the sink downstairs before fleeing the manor with only your purse and cardigan, the feather duster still lying on the floor upstairs. You hadn’t even bothered going home.

There’s no telling what your aunt and uncle must have thought. You try not to think about that because there’s no going back now. You had the luxury of a single cry on the train as it chugged away from the station and the day slipped into night, but nothing more than that and nothing since.

You tuck into your food when the waitress comes back with your meal.

“John said you were a schoolteacher before this?” Kate says, pulling you back into the conversation.

It makes you nervous to lie too much about a subject you hardly know, so you smile and nod instead of responding.

“You must be quite the polymath,” she continues, eyes downcast, not allowing you a good read on her. “Arithmetic, writing, history—goodness knows the skills one needs nowadays with the leaps and bounds in education. Thank goodness for the Common School reformers, giving women the opportunity to develop young minds.”

“Yes,” you croak, then clear your throat. “I certainly did my best to…educate the children.”

Comical, given that you’d dropped out of school at the age of fourteen to work in a factory sewing buttons onto shirts.

“And was the profession enjoyable? I know John mentioned you were keener on starting a family than continuing on as an instructor, but was it an informative experience?”

“Oh yes, it was. I enjoyed it. Immensely.”

“It must have been nice to work in a profession with such little turmoil.”

“I couldn’t have asked for better,” you agree, your smile tight now, wavering only a bit at the corners.

Kate stares at you for a beat too long. It makes your stomach hurt and you fight against the urge to wilt under her stare. You can’t imagine you’ve said something wrong with how little you’ve said, but her stare makes your skin crawl.

Finally, she smiles, the skin around her eyes creasing. “Well, that’s just lovely to hear.”

You put the conversation out of your mind on the walk back, sure that you must have imagined the flicker in her eyes.

John comes back earlier than you expected. You swear your heart jolts in your chest when you hear the sound of a horse whinnying outside the shop out of nowhere and a man’s low, rough voice responding back, soothing it. You hear the sound of dismount, boots hitting the ground hard, and then come up the steps, each step making the spurs on the back of his boots rattle.

When he opens the door, his eyebrows jump up at the sight of you already there waiting. Your eagerness should embarrass you, and it does, but there’s not much you can do about it, and there’s even less you can do about the way you melt when he says, “There you are, darlin’. Time to go home.”

Precious is the world where home has come to mean something tender and soft, even as much as you’ve pushed against it. You still hold fast against the notion, steeling yourself when John helps you up onto Buttercup and follows suit, riding home at almost a gallop. You hear his laughter on the wind when you yelp and nearly slide off, his arm around you the only thing holding you in place.

“It’d be easier to ride if I had pants,” you complain when you dismount, hands pressed to his shoulders when he helps you down. “How do women even ride sidesaddle on their own?”

“Plenty of women do, darlin’. It’s nothing out of the ordinary.”

“Well, I don’t like it.”

“We can get you pants if you need them so badly,” John says, looking up to the sky like Lord help me suffer this woman. “But that means I’ll be teaching you how to ride Buttercup on your own. Think you can handle that?”

You balk at the thought. “…Let me think about it.”

He snorts. “You do that.”

He leaves you to your thoughts when he takes the horses out to the paddock for a bit.

You sit out on the porch and watch the sunset while the horses run around the pen, soaking in the last hour of daylight. Overhead, clouds as big as mountains pass, heavy like an oil painting. Off in the distance, you can see thick clouds blotting out the sky entirely, the belly of them split open and letting out a downpour of biblical proportions. You only grow a bit nervous when you notice the wall of rain moving closer to your house with the wind, inching forward more every minute.

It’s not long before John notices it too. He whistles for the horses and waits until they trot back over to the gate, fixing the lead to their mantles again and leading them one by one back into the stable. A light drizzle begins to pour. It churns up the dust and dirt when it hits the ground, scenting the air with the fragrant smell of earth.

You head over to the stable as John brings in the last horse, hovering by the door while you watch him run his hand down Buttercup’s muzzle, whispering softly to her. If he notices your presence, he doesn’t acknowledge it, his attention focused solely on her.

It gives you a chance to admire him from the back. Thick thighs in indigo jeans that seem almost painted on. Shirt tucked into his jeans, stretched taut at the shoulders; dark droplets of rain drying already. The dusting of hair on the back of his neck. You can see the fine lines on his forehead and in the corner of his eye from the side angle and it reminds you again that he’s older and more weathered than you, settled into his age rather than floundering in it.

“It’s raining,” you say, just to have something to say. You shrink under his gaze when he turns towards you, faint amusement in his eyes.

“I noticed.”

You cringe at that, aware that he knows. He’s the one that brought the horses in after all. There’s just something in you that feels compelled to open your mouth when he’s around. An impulse that makes you cheep like a bird.

“Looks like a bad one,” you mutter instead of shutting your mouth, instead of hightailing it back to the house and shutting all the windows to keep the rain from coming in. Useless girl.

“Probably rain all night,” John says, squinting out at the sky through the open door. It’s darker now, a storm brewing.

“Is there…is there anything we have to do? To get ready?” You don’t know why you say we like this is a partnership, but it comes unbidden and you know if he told you to hurry back and take in the porch chairs, you would.

“Nothing to worry about. I’ll close up the stables and seal the windows—storm probably won’t hit for another hour or two. After dinner, we’ll turn in early.”

With a final stroke down Buttercup’s jaw, he steps away and moves towards you. You feel rooted in place again at his approach; the thought of taking a step back never even occurs to you. When he finally reaches you, he doesn’t hesitate to reel you in by your hips, drawing you into a deep, wet kiss that he breaks only when you whimper into his mouth.

“You feelin’ better about being out here?” he asks, low and intimately. “Looked like you had a good time with Laswell.”

“She’s nice,” you say, deflecting from the other question.

John hums his agreement, readjusting his hold on your waist until every inch of him is pressed against you. Your breasts are flattened to his chest, belly pressed to his; every hard inch of him, solid as an oak.

“C’mon, honey, talk to me,” he murmurs. “Have I been treating you right? You still have any reservations about marrying me?”

“Bit late for reservations, isn’t it?”

He clucks his tongue. “‘Course it ain’t. Won’t change anything, but I still wanna know.”

It’s hard not to consider the possibility of being honest with him for a change when his gaze borders on the devout. No one in the history of time has ever looked at you like this, like you hung up the moon and stars. The thought chokes you up. In all the years of your life, has one other person looked at you and asked if everything was to your liking? John’s love borders on reverence, straddles the narrow divide between the telluric and the celestial, the earthly and the divine.

It’s dizzying. And you’re not built for subterfuge. Not built to lie to the one man that, despite everything, despite taking you from your former life by force, has offered you a new one on a silver platter.

You wet your lips, conscious of how dry your mouth suddenly is. John’s eyes follow the glide of your tongue over your lip.

And then you lie. “None whatsoever. I’m happy here.”

Maybe it’s a half-lie. After he shuts the stable doors and barricades them to keep the doors from swinging open in the midst of the storm, you wind up back on the porch watching the dark clouds up in the sky slowly approach, John at your back this time.

John tilts your head up into another kiss. You don’t know when you made the conscious decision to let him think you amenable to this relationship, but you cling to that thought desperately when his tongue licks into your mouth velvety smooth.

The roof extends out over the porch, keeping the two of you dry, but you can hear the sound of raindrops pelting the slate shingles.

“You’ll see, honey,” he says against your lips, the words rumbling through you, buzzing under your skin and making it tingle. “‘M gonna make you so happy. Never gonna even think of leaving me.”

The words dissolve on your tongue. Swallowed down dry. With his arm hooked around your waist and hand tilting your head up, there’s no way you could think of anything else except wanting more.

It’s hard to talk when he has you up against the railing, your dress pulled up and his fingers spreading apart your lower lips. It’s not the first time he’s touched you there, but it’s the longest he has, at least without the barrier of your underwear. His fingers spread your labia delicately, middle finger running up the wet seam. He hums into the back of your head while he does and presses a kiss into your hair.

“Always so soft and wet here, darlin’,” John murmurs, stroking his fingers up your inner lips and petting the sensitive nub at the apex of your sex. “Why didn’t you tell me you’ve been aching for it? Been waiting for you to give me the word.”

Waiting, he says, while tucking a finger into your sex, curling it up into you and chuckling under his breath when your hands clamp tighter on the railing and your back arches. Just a single finger feels like more than you can handle. John has thick fingers; thick fingers with calluses that you can feel on the delicate flesh between your legs. It plugs you up tight, more so when your core clenches involuntarily around his finger. His chuckle descends into a groan, then a sigh.

He pulls his finger out against the squeeze of your internal muscles, ignoring the way you whisper, “No, please” under your breath.

You only stop pleading for more when he swirls his finger around your pearl again, lavishing it with attention. “Aching? I’m not—”

“You are, darlin’,” he breathes, and now you feel him pull you from the railing, stepping back to take a seat on the porch swing. He pulls you into his lap, sitting you across it instead of with your back to his chest like he did in the bath the other day.

“Anyone could come by—” you hiss, fluffing the skirt of your dress out around your thighs when he tries to push it back up to get his hands back on your nethers.

“You tense up when you’re nervous, honey,” John cuts you off, forcing his hand back up your dress until he pushes his finger back into your quim, delighted to find it hotter and wetter, practically dripping onto his lap. “See, there you go. Just relax. I’ll make you feel good, darlin’. We’ll take care of that nasty ache.”

You pant through each pulse of his finger. You don’t even think about looking up to meet his eyes, not when he stares down at you with obvious adoration and devotion, the emotion splayed across his face. He looks entranced at the sight of you coming apart on his fingers, a flush high on his cheeks.

“No one’s gonna come by. Not this far out. ‘Sides, they know to keep their distance. Newlyweds need their space, right, darlin’?”

Supposing he’s right and no one comes out this way. Isn’t it still unseemly to do this out in the open? So far from your marriage bed? John seems incapable of relegating his affections to that space, unconcerned with propriety or modesty. You wonder with a spark of fear if he’d even budge if someone were to come trotting up the walkway on horseback or if he’d just wave them off and send them on their way. You don’t think he’s the kind of man to want an audience, thank the Lord, but he seems entirely unphased by even the idea of being intruded upon.

You melt when he shushes your worries, feeling you tense against him, and sinks his fingers in deeper, now another. Don’t fret, he murmurs against your temple, sighing softly. I’ve got you, honey. Ain’t going nowhere.

You aren’t, are you, you think wildly. The land around here goes on forever and the train whistles by only twice a week if you’re lucky. Then townsfolk know you by face and a false name, but that would be enough for them to grow concerned if they were to spot you heading for the train with your suitcases packed, and with John or one of his deputies always in town, there’s little chance you’d be able to board without one of them interfering.

Still though, it’s better than the alternative. For over a week now you’ve been on high alert, waiting for an arrest warrant to be slipped onto John’s desk with your likeness drawn on it, and for him to come collect you stone-faced and furious. It could still come.

He keeps you tucked into his arms and nestled close, shushing you when you hiccup and pinch your lips together to keep quiet. He lets you have that, unphased by the way you try to hide it, only tutting when you try to fight it, curling his fingers up inside you and rubbing a spot inside of you that makes it hard to breathe.

“I could just take it, but you’re gonna give it to me, darlin’,” John says.

And you do. Messily, noisily. Burying your face in his neck and sobbing it out, humiliation wrung out of you, squeezing out every drop. He smells like musk and old sweat, amber warm. Liquid gold. You press your nose into the skin of his neck and draw in a breath so deep that you go lightheaded.

John keeps his fingers tucked in you until you stop shaking, talking you through it even though you hardly hear a word. How could you over the rush in your head, the blood in your ears? When you open your eyes and look around, the sky is swollen and dark, the wall of rain

“C’mon, honey,” he says, pulling his fingers out and placing his hand low on your belly. “Let’s go inside.”

You sit across from him at dinner, eating under candlelight. The weight of his gaze for once isn’t stifling.

The rain only starts in earnest when he’s pulled the quilt over the two of you and pulled you into his arms. The rain pelting the windowpane dulls to a low roar when you turn over and snuggle deeper into John’s chest, pulling the blanket over your head. Tomorrow, the grass will be greener than the day before. You can feel it in your bones.

#ceil writing #cod mw2 #cod x reader #price x you #john price x reader #price x reader #price/reader #john price/reader #john price

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mostwantedpotato404 · 1 year

Photo

Nathaniel Howe

I’m gonna draw also male and female Hawke matching portraits

#Dragon Age fanart #nathaniel howe #Nathaniel dragon age #dragon age #da2 #dragon age awakening #grey warden #and some thirty anders sketches #but not only him #fenris maybe too stay tuned

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the-travelling-witch · 2 months

Text

𝐅𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐋

summary: a siren attack is already unfortunate, but it's worse if it also reveals some truths about your insufferable crew mate

pairing: pirate! hawks x gn! pirate! reader

warnings: just a silly drabble to get back into writing and exorcise some of my hawks brainrot; a little suggestive at the end

general masterlist || bnha masterlist

Getting stuck on the same ship as Takami Keigo was one of life’s most torturous challenges. At least for you. He was obnoxiously arrogant and, much to your chagrin, people flocked to him like seagulls to a forgotten loaf of bread.

Sure, your fellow pirate was quite easy on the eyes and rather charming when he wanted to be; a truth you would only ever admit in the comfort of your own head, lest you inflate his ego even further. Instead, you rather grumbled to yourself, cursing his name for getting to sit pretty in the crow’s nest while you sat on deck and mended a torn net.

“Having fun down there?” If the devil ever spoke to you, you were sure he would mimic the grating lilt of Keigo’s melodic voice. “You know, I’m pretty sure a whale could swim through the holes you’re leaving.”

He was your crew mate, he was an essential part of the expedition, you couldn’t just shoot him down.

“At least one of us is doing their job,” you deadpanned, not even giving him the satisfaction to look up. “You know, I think an island could sneak up on us with how distracted you are.”

“Oh you think you’re distracting me?” Even with your eyes trained on the cords in your hands, you could picture the cocky tilt of his head, a dashing grin playing around his lips. “Is that the kind of effect you want to have on me?”

“You’re the one who’s always coming up to bother me, so if anything you’re the one who’s obsessed with me.” If this conversation went on for any longer, your medic would have to patch up a popped vein on your part.

“Ah there is that wishful thinking again,” he laughed and this time you glared up at his silhouette standing out against the blinding sun. As always, he wore loose beige pants and the top buttons of his black shirt were undone, showing more of his toned chest than you needed to see. His black boots were propped up against the nest’s railing and the crimson head scarf fluttering in the breeze matched the earring dangling from his left lobe.

Just as you were about to retort, another shadow against the sun caught your attention. Drawing your pistol, you undid the safety, alerting the rest of the crew that there was something coming.

But before you could see what exactly was approaching, you suddenly lost your balance as the ship developed a heavy list. Grabbing onto the mast of the crow’s nest, you managed to steady yourself, yet the impact knocked the revolver from your grip. As you looked up, the first thing you saw was the massive cliffs your ship was heading towards, sharp rocks littering the waters, waiting to demolish its wooden bottom.

Then your eyes locked on to the crew’s navigator, whose head lulled from one side to the other as he firmly steered you towards your demise. Next to him, holding his attention, was a beautiful woman sweetly tracing a finger along his jaw as she sang to him. As a feather drifted past your eyes, it suddenly hit you what -or who- exactly you were dealing with.

“Cover your ears!” You shouted to no one in particular as you scrambled for the wax you had stuffed into your pocket. With your hearing muffled, your own heartbeat raced in your ears as you dove for your pistol and breathlessly aimed for the siren attached to your navigator, who by now was half way towards the ship’s railing, his feet dragging underneath him as the woman lured him further towards the water.

You weren’t sure if your bullet was enough to actually kill the siren but upon impact it dissolved into a burst of feathers and released its hold on your crew mate, who dazedly blinked as he tried to regain his senses.

The next few minutes were a blur of talons, feathers and pulling your crew back from the ship’s edge, even tying some of them to the masts to make sure they wouldn’t try to kill themselves again.

Soon enough, however, you were out of bullets and you reluctantly drew the dagger previously secured to your thigh, scanning the area for more sirens when someone tapped your shoulder. Whirling around you slashed your dagger in an arc around you, only to find Keigo standing in front of you, holding up his hands innocently. There was an easy going smile on his face as he said something you couldn’t understand, so you removed one of the wax beads restricting your hearing.

And that was your mistake.

Only a few heartbeats after his velvety voice reached your ears, your dagger clattered onto the deck as Keigo reached out to unplug your other ear as well, his fingers grazing your cheek with nails much sharper than you expected. You wondered if his lips would be as plush as you imagined them to be or if his hair would be as soft as it looked when you buried your fingers in it.

His amber eyes were trained entirely on you as he gave you a coy gaze, inviting you to take another step towards him, to find out for yourself, to sate your curiosity. Likewise, you couldn’t tear your eyes away from him either as your feet followed his graceful movements, the light reflecting of his golden hair like a halo, the crimson wings on his back completing his angelic appearance—

Then, Keigo dissolved into a burst of those same scarlet feathers as two sharp swords sliced through his torso. For a moment, you thought you had imagined it when the same face came back into view again.

With full force, the noise of the ship reached you again and you staggered backwards at the sudden onslaught of stimuli. Around you, the crew was running around, untying people and frantically steering the ship back onto the right course as you raced to regain your bearings, disoriented by the orders being bellowed around you.

“That should be the last of them,” Keigo ripped you from your daze, his voice clearer as the sea as he sheathed his swords again. “Nasty creatures, those sirens. Though I guess this one was a handsome fellow, considering you were dazedly mumbling my name on your way overboard.”

Your lips pressed into a thin line when your brain caught up to your current situation. Perhaps the siren had been taken care off, yet you were still tempted to throw yourself head first over the railing. Justifiably so, you thought when your eyes darted to the man’s face long enough to confirm the self-satisfied expression he was wearing.

“I am quite flattered really,” he mused, one hand reaching out to tilt your face up so you’d meet his eyes as he stepped closer to you. For a split-second, the thought that it was still a siren in front of you crossed your mind. “To think that a siren would choose to wear my face in an effort to seduce you… now isn’t that quite the compliment?”

“Just… shut up and let me die in peace, would you?” You rolled your eyes, ready to retreat into your little cabin and try to grapple with your near-death experience, this confrontation included. If only the rocky spikes had ripped open the bottom of the ship, you could sink to the sea floor in quiet solitude.

“No no no, why would you do that when you can stay right here with me? C’mon just see it as my reward for saving your precious life, treasure.” He sent you a cheeky wink, drawing your attention to the sharp slant of his eyes and your heart, the treacherous thing, skipped a beat.

“Is your idea of a reward torturing me further? Or what could you possibly get out of this?” Your shoulders sacked with your sigh, resigning to your defeat.

“What I’m getting out of this? It’s quite obvious isn’t it?” Slinging an arm around your hanging shoulders, Keigo pulled you flush to his side. Warmth and the scent of salt mixed with something woodsy radiated off of him and you could admit this wasn’t the worst position to be in. “Believe it or not, I do enjoy your company.”

“That is hard to believe, you’re right.” You cocked your head in suspicion. “Normally you do everything to get under my skin, so what changed?”

“Hmm, I wonder why that is,” Keigo’s melodic timbre lilted before transitioning into his typical pearly laughter. Then, as if sharing a secret, he leant down so his lips were dangerously close to your ear, his voice dropping low. “You know, you weren’t the only one visited by a siren. As tempting as that version of you looked, I must say I prefer the real deal.

“Do you think I could get you to sing for me as well?”

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johnwickb1tsch · 3 months

Text

bittersweet ~ a yandere!John Wick x fem!reader sunshine/grump coffee shop AU... Part 12 all chapters

- Lunch is a lovely affair in a quaint little trattoria that has been making world class dishes since the turn of the previous century. It seems like every inch of this city is steeped in history. The prices on the menu would blow your whole daily budget on one meal. But the scampi alla Veneziana is out of this world, and you force yourself to eat slowly, and not just inhale the perfectly prepared shrimp and noodles with a delicate lemon olive oil dressing.

John's friend, Julius, is a kind and utterly elegant older man who accepts your presence at the table with kingly grace. They speak in a mixture of Italian and English, the latter you think is for your benefit. John very generously includes you in the conversation, telling Signor Castellari that you are an artist, talking you up to what you feel is an exaggerated degree. Julius asks to see your work, and you let him flip through your new sketch book. Your drawings are a mixture of studies and whimsical travelogue, and it feels like you’re baring a piece of your soul, but he’s so gracious you feel you can’t say no.

There is more than one sketch of Mr. Wick in those pages you did from memory with an aching heart, but the old man is kind enough not to call you out on it, or even draw John’s attention to it. You think if he did, you would simply crawl under the table and die of embarrassment.

He exclaims over an ink and watercolor pencil plein air you did in Rome of a sunset over St. Peters with the Sant’Angelo bridge in the foreground, saying it reminds him of a special day when he was a much younger man. You offer to let him keep it, and he seems truly delighted.

You watch with some surprise as John produces what looks like a razor-sharp knife from seemingly nowhere to carefully cut the page from your book. Julius accepts it like a precious treasure, and you are flattered to your toes.

Then John and Julius chat about older books, and Julius produces a very old looking volume, handing it over for the younger man’s perusal. As he runs his hands over the leather cover John’s eyes shine with an almost childish delight—its utterly adorable.

While they are gushing over the antique tome two intimidating men in dark suits approach the table, fixing John with a hard look. One of them has a gnarly scar bisecting his brow. They say something that sounds none too friendly. You catch the name d’Antonio—but John waves them off with a glare, insisting, “Sono ritrirato.”

You’re pretty sure that means I’m retired.

Julius watches the exchange with a sadness in his eyes you don’t understand.

Finally after some grumbling the tough men go away. John watches them with eyes sharp as a hawk’s, and something in the back of your brain titters a little warning. But you’re having too lovely of a time with Signor Castellari, so you ignore it.

When you part ways Julius kisses your cheeks and takes your hands in his. “Be good to him, bella,” he says with a glance to John. “No one I know deserves happiness more than him.”

You don't want to contradict him about your actual relationship with John, so you just nod.

Later you ask, “Did you tell him we're...”

“No, but even if I told him we weren't, he wouldn't have believed me. Sorry. I hope that didn't make you uncomfortable...”

“It's fine,” you say, not offended in the least.

It’s more than fine.

It's incredibly flattering, really, that he thought the two of you could be a match. You're fairly sure you look like an unsophisticated street urchin next to Mr. John Wick.

“Where would you like to go now?” John asks with a little smile, as though he knows you've been hopelessly turned around for the past two days. You’ve managed to find the big landmarks, like the Piazza San Marco and the Doge’s Palace. It’s the smaller sights that have escaped you.

“Let’s go for a walk,” you suggest, wanting to see the city, and knowing you will finally get to do it unmolested with the forbidding figure of John towering at your side.

You are standing on a bridge, watching gondolas go by, when he asks you, “If I told you I have a reservation at Casa Nova, would you have dinner with me?”

You press your lips nervously. Lunch is one thing, you know, and dinner something else entirely. Two people alone together in an intimate setting, sharing a meal over candlelight with good wine...the thought sends a thrill to the tips of your fingers that’s so intense it’s almost painful.

“I don't have anything to wear to a place like that,” you admit. You read about it in a Condé Nast magazine on the plane, and you’re pretty sure it has at least one Michelin star. “I'm backpacking. My dresses are literally all rolled up in a bundle.”

He chuckles at that, a low sound that tugs at your abdomen. He leans a little closer on the railing, and not for the first time this day you just wish he would kiss you.

“What if...I took you shopping?”

You raise an eyebrow to that. “Are you trying to be my sugar daddy, Mr. Wick?” You mean it as a joke, but suddenly there is something electric in the air between you. John's initial embarrassment sharpens to something almost…predatory.

It catches your breath in your throat.

“Do you want a sugar daddy, y/n?”

You laugh it off nervously, your heart skittering about in your chest.

“Very funny.”

You have a feeling he wasn’t joking at all.

However, like a gentleman he lets you have the out, but doesn't drop the shopping offer.

“Let's go to the Calle Larga,” he says, and out of pure curiosity you agree.

John's idea of shopping is taking you to Gucci.

The impeccable store is filled with beautifully crafted but honestly kind of boring goods, arbitrarily priced at a thousand dollars or more a piece. John fits in perfectly with the smartly dressed clientele, but you? You feel so incredibly out of place amidst the filthy rich people in the shop, and when you look at the price tag on the only dress you vaguely like you think you might break out in hives.

“John...”

You don't recognize it just yet, but you call him John when you're agitated, and Mr. Wick when you're feeling playful.

He senses the desperation in that one word, and he takes you by the hand, leading you outside.

“I'm sorry...” you say, because you feel stupid, and not posh enough by half to pull off any of the clothes in that high-end boutique. You are a bonafide gremlin, compared to the unearthly creatures in there. You do not belong, and maybe you’re a coward, but a part of you wishes John would just let you go back to your own plans for the evening. A long solo walk, a cheap slice of pizza, inevitably get lost in the maze of streets and canals, draw a little or read some of your book, before returning to your hard, lumpy hostel bed alone, where you can’t make a fool of yourself.

“Don't be,” he says with an amused little smile that makes your tide of panic recede a little. “I like it that you know this stuff is bullshit,” he soothes you.

“I just...it’s so out of my wheel house.” You could have paid nearly four months rent for what that dress had cost.

He nods. “It takes some getting used to,” he admits. “I certainly wasn't born into this.”

You wonder if he’ll ever tell you about his earlier life, but sense this isn’t the time or place to press him.

“I just don't want you to spend your hard-earned money on stupid things for me.”

“I’m not saying I didn’t work hard for my money…” he offers with a wan little smile. “But it would make me happy to spend it on you. If it would make you happy.”

You look at him for a long time. He meets your gaze, not flinching. There’s something different about him here. He’s more…open with you, perhaps? It takes some getting used to. He’d never outright admitted his interest in you before, always circling around it, and you wonder what’s changed.

Maybe not even John Wick is immune to the romantic atmosphere of il bel paese.

“Why are you being so good to me?”

“I like you, y/n. If you haven't noticed.” The corner of his mouth quirks at that.

It makes you sigh.

“I like you too, Mr. Wick.”

He makes a small sound in the back of his throat.

“You can call me John.”

“But do you want me to call you John?” you tease.

He moves a fraction closer, looming over you, and for a heart stopping moment you think maybe now he might finally kiss you?

“Depends,” he admits, his voice gone a little rough, but he doesn't elaborate further.

You feel as though you have a live electric wire sparking under your skin.

He steps back a little, and again you feel the loss of him like an ache over your heart. You continue to stroll down the street. You are not entirely sure how your hand ends up in his, only that it is there, and you are content.

None of the high fashion shops really interest you, until you pass by the window of Dolce and Gabbana, and your feet involuntarily slow as you take in the maximalist riot of glitz and color on the mannequin. You've always admired their wildly bedazzled designs, flaming hearts and candy colored jewels with copious gold embroidered trim. Maybe you’re just a crow-brained peasant who’s impressed by shiny things, but they look so fun.

John smiles a little, as though he’s finally answered some question to himself about you. “Aha,” he says teasingly, and you sigh, restraining yourself from pressing your nose to the window like a child outside a candy store.

“Can we just…look?”

You are trying to be reasonable.

“We can.”

As it turns out, you want one of everything in the store.

It's all so over the top, the designs are so artistic and ridiculous and unabashedly joyful, from bejeweled purses to crown-adorned headphones, loud floral dresses and majolica printed silk scarves, and you fight not to betray which pieces catch your eye because you're afraid John might buy them all.

He is drinking in your enjoyment, looking utterly pleased.

Even just the store itself is utterly breathtaking inside, crystal chandeliers, inlaid marble floors and stone pillars. Gilded crown moulding and inlaid wood trim. You could just sit and look at this place like it’s a museum, you reckon.

John is not looking at the building though. He watches you browse with eyes that miss nothing, and it makes you squirm a little. You feel so seen. You’re not sure you like it, like you’ve been caught in the act of enjoying something that you know is absurd.

You feel absolutely silly.

“Try something on,” he urges you. To be practical, you decide to try on a black lace dress. Just in case you might like it. And a pair of black platform wedges printed with crimson red roses…because you can actually walk in them, so it makes sense, you know...

When you exit the dressing room John's gaze darkens, his pupils blown wide with desire, and once again you sense that predatory edge in him. If you had any sense you might have been scared, or at least cautious—but all it does is give you the most exquisite chills, an aching sense of anticipation, and an excess of moisture pooled between your thighs.

“That one,” he confirms, and for the way he looks at you, like you are a bunny in the woods he'd like to eat up whole, the outrageous price of the ensemble seems like a bargain.

#john wick #john wick x reader #john wick x y/n #john wick x you #keanu reeves x reader #john wick fic #keanu reeves #bittersweet john wick imagine #john wick imagine #i couldn't find julius's last name?#anyone kno?#yandere john wick

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aha-chuu · 1 year

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Kaveh's Drip Marketing

I have a lot to say about the connections between the Kaveh info that released today and Alhaitham (and what we know about their relationship with each other). I'm not looking at this in a romantic way necessarily, but just in how tightly knotted their characters are with one another.

First, Kaveh's title and description:

"Empyrean Reflection", or more simply, 'Heavenly Reflection'. This ties to his constellation, "Paeadisaea", which is the genus for the birds of paradise. 'Paradise' is a more general term for Heaven, but neither of these are particularly divine in nature in a deity sense. Personally, I think they might be denoting a reference to the Golden Ratio, AKA: Divine Proportion. It's a mathematic concept often used in artistry, which matches well with Kaveh's archectural design profession and his education from the Ksharewar Darshan, which is the Sumeru school of technology.

So that's what it means for Kaveh's own characterisation/lore imo, but it also links to Alhaitham. Firstly, Alhaitham's constellation is also a bird (Vultur Volans, or essentially 'vulture' even though his name means hawk), which is a nice match to Kaveh's birds of paradise. But more interestingly, this is what Alhaitham's Character Story 4 has to say about why he lets Kaveh live with him:

He views Kaveh as a "mirror". What is Kaveh's title again? "Empyrean Reflection".

And the mirroring is all over the place. Here's a section from Alhaitham's drip marketing from December:

He is

Largely unknown

Only puts in the minimum effort required to do his job

People don't pay attention to him

In contrast, here is a corresponding section that came out with Kaveh's drip today:

He is

Extremely well known

Incredibly hardworking

People pay attention to him even when he isn't asking for it, as a by-product of his career

Basically exact opposites; complete mirrors. Here's something else, first from the end of Alhaitham's description and then second from the end of Kaveh's:

Alhaitham's life is super comfortable, ideal in every way he desires. Meanwhile Kaveh is practically crippled by anxiety, made uncomfortable by his life circumstances. The wording itself is mirrored!

Ofc, Kaveh and Alhaitham provide one another's corresponding quotes in the drip marketing. Here is what Kaveh has to say about Alhaitham:

This is an amusing quote, basically a backhanded compliment of "oh he's very smart but he's too self-centred so his talents are made worthless since he never uses them to help others". Alhaitham's quote about Kaveh goes like this:

Alhaitham is a little more wordy so I'll simplify -

Talented people have a lot of outside pressure on them, which can be a burden

However, letting other people get you down is a character flaw, not an inherent part of being talented

Kaveh disagrees

Once again talking about an individual's talents and how worthwhile they are in the context of a society. Where Kaveh complains that Alhaitham can never accomplish anything worthwhile with his skills because he doesn't take other people into account, Alhaitham argues that Kaveh gets nothing done as a consequence of listening too much to other people's expectations. It's not surprising, then, that Kaveh is bankrupt but successful and Alhaitham is comfortable but unknown.

It's like - can these two stop talking about each other for five minutes? Anyway, this post turned out to be more of a collection of Kavetham quotes, but I think it's hard not to draw comparisons. I'm looking forward to seeing Kaveh's actual voicelines if there's this much material just from one marketing post lol

#alhaitham #kaveh #genshin impact #al haitham #kavetham #haikaveh #drip marketing #theory?#analysis #i love these two #idk if Kaveh's title being reflection is supposed to relate to Alhaitham's whole mirror thinh #which BTW Alhaitham's whole kit is about maintaining as many mirrors as possible #like what babe you need your bf?#anyway #this much cannot be a coincidence #and while it's certainly not inherently romantic #there is something to be said for the intimacy of being your roommate's perfect reflection

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aimbutmiss · 2 months

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Buggy gently held the face in front of him, fingers wrapping around the jaw to keep it still. He was supposed to go in for the eyeliner next, but the man in front of him flinched as soon as Buggy's fingers brushed his face, the reaction barely visible to the untrained eye. But Buggy knew Mihawk, or he thought he did, at least to a certain extent. He liked to think he improved a lot when it came to reading the hawk eyed man, especially compared to when they first formed Cross Guild. And what all that improvement entailed now, was the fact that the swordsman was uncomfortable. He let go of his face just as gently as he had held it.

"What's wrong?"

"..."

Buggy frowned and slumped his shoulders at the lack of response. "I let you do that horrifying gothic clown makeup on me, remember? Because I trusted you. But I'm not planning on turning you into a clown or anything, it's just your usual black eyeliner. So, trust me?"

"I do trust you." Mihawk sighed heavily, uncrossing his arms. "It's not about that. It's just... I'm not really used to- to this." He motioned between the two of them, trying his best to convey his feelings. He clearly needed more practice in that department, but Buggy took it in stride. They could work on it later, and frankly even this was an improvement.

Buggy retreated a bit, putting some more distance between them. "We don't have to do... this." He motioned between them just as the other had. "I just thought it would be fun, like last time. Even though I ended up looking straight out of a horror story, at least the process was enjoyable. Relaxing even."

Mihawk gave a small smile at that. "I thought you looked rather dashing in black."

Buggy rolled his eyes. "Of course you did. But I think I'll leave that to you. Wouldn't want to steal your schtick."

Mihawk's eyes squinted in amusement. "You couldn't if you tried."

"Nice try, but you can't provoke me like that. I'm not even going near black face paint for the unforeseeable future."

It was Mihawk's turn to roll his eyes, but he didn't say anything. They had fallen into a comfortable silence when Mihawk slowly reached for Buggy's hand, delicately caressing it with his thumb as Buggy held his breath.

"I'm sorry, I'm being difficult. This was supposed to be fun... But I'm okay now, you can continue."

Buggy shook his head, squeezing the hand holding his. "It should be fun for us both, I can't enjoy it if you're not enjoying it as well. You don't have to force yourself."

"I'm not." Mihawk looked Buggy in his big, round eyes that looked like they were portals leading straight to the ocean, his stare as unwavering as his voice as he spoke. "I'm not usually comfortable with people at this proximity... but I've come to find that I really don't mind it with you. I like it, in fact."

Buggy gulped, unable to break the intense eye contact. He didn't really know what he did to get into the swordsman's good graces, but he wasn't gonna mess it up no matter what. He gently reached for his face once again, getting in position to finally draw on the eyeliner.

"Don't move or I'll smudge it." He said, almost in a whisper.

Mihawk simply hummed in understanding, staying still as the waters of the Calm Belt. Buggy's breath was tickling his cheeks, and his hands were warm. He did his best to watch him do his work without moving, carving every inch of his focused face into memory.

"You're beautiful."

The words came out of his mouth without thinking, flowing as naturally as his haki through Yoru, and they made the clown still in his movements.

"What?"

Mihawk gave a breathy chuckle as Buggy's face grew redder by the second. "You heard me, beautiful."

Buggy moved back a bit, staring at the man as if he grew a second head. "What's gotten into you?"

Of course, Mihawk completely ignored him. "You look cute when you blush."

"Oh my God, can you stop?!" Buggy's face was now matching his nose, and Mihawk could swear he could see some steam coming out of his ears.

"You're not very good at taking compliments, are you?"

"I take them all the time! From my crew and my fans... It's just, unexpected from you."

That made something inside Mihawk twinge, but it didn't show on his face. "Then I'll have to compliment you more until you get used to it."

Buggy seemed to be struggling to put his thoughts into words, confused out of his mind at the other man's words. Did he eat something off? Was it a devil fruit user? Because something had to be wrong. But in the mess going inside his head, only one word was able to make its way to his tongue:

"Why?"

"Because I love to have your attention, your eyes on me, your hands on me... and your kindness. But I need to be kind to you as well to deserve it. This, right now... I don't deserve this, as things stand."

Buggy stared at the man in front of him for a moment, before slowly reaching out to cradle his face. "You are kind to me."

"Not kind enough to make up for the things I did before."

So, that's what this was about. Buggy sighed in understanding. "You apologised. I accepted your apology, and Crocodile's. Neither of you have any need to feel bad for your past mistakes."

Mihawk opened his mouth to speak but Buggy shushed him, pressing a finger on his lips. "I forgive you. Just take my word for it, idiot."

"... Alright."

Buggy smiled wide. "See? That wasn't so hard."

Later that evening, Crocodile walked into the tent to find a sleeping Buggy, drooling on a sleeping Mihawk. The swordsman's face was smudged with eyeliner, and the evening breeze was washing over them from the open window flap.

But neither of them were cold when they woke up, covered by a blanket they didn't remember getting.

#i was struggling big time with this one #I keep saying I'm gonna try to write more Crocodile but then end up with bughawk #sorry not sorry #I'm just obsessed with them #it's okay croco baby I love you and your time will come. promise #one piece #buggy the clown #dracule mihawk #sir crocodile #cross guild #bughawk #buggy x mihawk #my writing

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cuineart · 8 months

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Nothing new, I just wanted to put them together cuz I'm silly 🙆

These drawings weren't made at the same time, so the proportions between them don't match that well. Anyway! characters fusion that share the same voice: Hawks/Gojo and Giyuu/Geto

check "#seiyuu fusion" tag for more

#seiyuu fusion #satoru gojo #geto suguru #hawks bnha #giyuu tomioka #mha #bnha #jujutsu kaisen #kimetsu no yaiba #crossover

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aroacesetitoff · 3 months

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Infinight Interns Reference Sheet + Headcanons

Bartholomew Finn

-Vest of Slow Descent-i made it green based off his canon design and then gave it "feathered" hems to allude to its ability

-pre-Draconic Transformation Bart-gave him silver jewelry and the only draconic traits are gold freckles, fangs, and shorter horns

-post-Draconic Transformation Bart-gold jewelry to match with his dad (Simsun), and of course claws and scales and larger horns

-boatswain's call whistle-a reference to the Jebediah + Capt. Marge

-gave him the thigh dagger sheath-cause why not. I think Bart's that character in movies that has a shit ton of knives hidden in the most improbable places

-he's got a 17 string lute, but lets be honest i aint drawing 17 strings. painted a wave design on the body and the soundhole/rosette has a dagger design

-Breath Diagem/lute pick ftw

-scars on his hands (from doing hot boi sailor shit)

-not shown but i think he's got a bunch of tattoos (like "I <3 Mom" for Marge, flowers for Gum Gum, crossed anchors, etc.)

-pupils are slitted like dragons and a very dark shade of blue

Kyborg the Mighty/Kydelius of Everwinter

-Fun Fact: i used to do archery! so some of his gear is based off of stuff I had. But you know cooler

-Canonically his hair pretty loose, and its pretty but my god its gonna get caught up in his bowstring man. braided/tied it back for practicality

-thigh highs. no notes

-gave him an armored version w/ fur because his current design didn't feel like Everwinter-y enough

-its not terribly visible but he has the Belt of Sick Trick so i put a bird on it (vaguely Tony Hawk reference)

-the Longer Bow Krystallina-gave it a snow fall design + red accents

-scars from archery, since this guy shoots barebow

-the left (flesh arm) side is the most armored and unscarred, and the right (metal arm) side is scarred + unprotected (bc u know its metal)

-pupils are really dark shade of red as a reference to the Source Diagem

-metal arm-i took an anatomy class not a robotics one, so the structure is based off human musculature (kinda) and i put the Source Diagem in his shoulder instead of his hand

Gum Gum Galindor

-star boi 🌟

-constellations on the inside of the brim of his hat that Bart sewed for him-(Bart's a sailor, he knows his constellations)

-the flowers (orange @ blue) on his hat represent him & Bart. The orange ones bigger bc u know thats his big bro right there

-the hoodie+pauldron+cross body strap combo is a direct copy of Bart's design bc thats what younger siblings do u know

-made the patches to repair his coat stars bc why not

-Random Axe of Kindness-the cute lil heart does not detract from the fact that its an axe

-timeskip design i went for a gardener vibe bc he works in the Orchidnage now-i think despite having the worst dad of the group, Gum Gum would be a pretty good father figure

-Staff of Flowers-i wanted to reference Dia w/ this one so I tried to have this be the most colorful part

-Bart pierced his ears at one point

-i gave him constellation freckles that showed up post Dia reveal

-he has his manacles yeah but i wanted to design friendship bracelets for the rest of the team

-Mudd's-green thread with pink & white flower beads-the charm is Gumbo

-Bart's-leather cord with blue & gold beads and an anchor charm

-Kyborg's-brown leather cord, green beads, and a red arrow charm

-made his pupils a lighter shade of blue that glows when he uses Wild Magic

-edit: lots of scars, some from fighting, a lit from just tripping and shit. Also a dog bite from that one time

Mudd Bramblecrack

-i love him but it was so hard to come up with a design

-the pink streak keeps moving bc im inconsistent and also bc he has to redye/cut his hair constantly

-the "fur" cloak is the Cloak of the Secluded Garden, and its actually pine leaves & grass

-gave him a very simple tunic w/ a bramble design bc we would try to disguise his noble bg

-i put Mudd in a kilt bc i have free will and also he's Scottish. I dont think he would ever wear one unless for formal occasions tho bc i think they take a while to put on

-Gumbo :) + badger armor -this ones very specifically inspired by Lonna Bowstripe from the Redwall series

-originally had the purple gems on his tunic, made em earrings instead bc thats cooler

-Bramblecrack signet (?) ring-also the Virtues Diagem. Both this and his earring are purple bc its an ace reference (for me). The ring is definitely an ace reference bc i made it a black metal and put it on his right middle finger (ifykyk)

-pink paw pads + talons-less of a firbolg thing, more of a Moon Druid thing

-eyes are a rlly dark shade of green but glow a brighter shade when Wildshaping

-pupils are a rlly dark shade of purple (Diagem ref) and also horizontal like cows

Okay I think that's everything. If not ill just come back and edit it 🤷. working on the OG Infinights next so stay tuned or whatever

#my art #tales from the stinky dragon #tftsd #bartholomew finn #stinkydragonpod #mudd bramblecrack #kyborg the mighty #gum gum galindor #headcanons

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lucifer-is-a-bag-of-dicks · 18 days

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continuation of this story that is still as yet untitled but has been labeled as #FreeRei in my notes app

The fact that Rei had nothing in the way of backpacks, bags, or even a purse due to her seemingly permanent residency at the hospital was both a blessing and a curse.

Navigating the ledge and tree back down to the ground with his mother in tow was a harrowing enough task without luggage complicating matters, though not quite as difficult as Dabi had assumed because apparently his mother was nimble as all hell.

"The hospital offers pilates classes." she told him as he helped her cross from the ledge to a large sturdy branch of the tree. "I go every day, I thought it would be smart to stay in good shape in case I got the chance to escape." she giggled airily. "I guess my instincts were right."

However she now had nothing to her name but the clothes on her back, meaning Dabi was going to have to steal her a bunch of new clothes and shit while trying to lay low and not draw attention to himself because he just kidnapped the number 1 hero's wife.

This is the stupidest thing you've ever done you soft piece of shit, she says a few nice words and you melt into a fucking puddle, pathetic.

Rei left the lump of pillows she had stashed under her bedcovers in place so Dabi knew they had at least until morning before she would be reported missing, enough time to drop into a 24hr corner store and grab a few essentials.

He zipped his collar up over his chin and pulled on his black cloth facemask and hood before going into the thankfully empty store, he wasn't sure if having a gently smiling older woman on his arm made him seem more or less suspicious with his face as hidden as it was. Though in the end it mattered little as long as he wasn't recognised as Dabi, Rei having last been seen with a mysterious masked figure wouldn't be very useful information to anyone trying to find her, but Rei being seen with a member of the League of Villains could cause trouble.

Especially since they had The World's Most Obvious Spy in their midst.

Keeping the bird around had seemed like a good idea at the time, they always knew where the Commission's eyes were, and could feed him information as tainted as what he gave to them, and seeing as he hadn't ratted out their location (after a few trial runs at various decrepit fake bases) his goal seemed to amount to more than simply capturing the League.

But Dabi couldn't guarantee the Commission wouldn't cut their losses on the whole infiltration thing if they found out the League was harbouring someone of such a high profile, there was every chance raising the stakes this way could jeopardise their tentative safety with their hero mole. He was going to have to keep Hawks at arm's length for a while.

"What colour?" he asked Rei as she browsed the shelves for a toothbrush, almost giddy in excitement over something as simple as shopping for toiletries.

"Colour?" Rei asked, peering at the boxes in Dabi's hand.

"White hair's too eye catching and recognisable, if you want to go out in public you'll have to hide it." He held up the two boxes. "Red or black? Forget about blonde or brown, the cheap stuff doesn't set well in our hair."

Rei tapped on the box of black dye. "This one, so we match!" she smiled.

Dabi felt a sudden flood of something warm in his chest before mentally slapping himself and putting the red dye back.

Keep it together for fuck's sake you're a god damn villain, you have literally murdered people.

He smoothly slipped a couple of chocolate bars into his pockets and some wrapped sandwiches into his coat before heading to the counter with the hair dye, a toothbrush, and a packet of cheap medical face masks.

Rei grabbed at the items. "Oh can I buy them? Please?"

Her childlike wonder and excitement pulled at something in Dabi's chest, once upon a time it was him tugging at her sleeve and asking to pay for their groceries like a grown up. He could feel heat gathering beneath his skin.

Fuck he stole so much from us.

Dabi may have risen from the grave to a life of chronic pain in a fragile immunocompromised body that was kept alive by virtue of artificial quirk induced fevers and spite, but it was a price paid for the freedom his death had granted him. Rei was not awarded that luxury, fit and healthy she may be but her life had been reduced to barely more than a small box for over a decade, Dabi didn't know how it hadn't driven her even more batshit insane than Endeavor had.

Well, she did run off with a wanted criminal, maybe them docs didn't fix her up as well as they thought they did.

"I... yeah, yeah sure." he passed her the items and the last of the money in his pocket. "I need to make a call, meet me outside alright? Don't take too long."

Shiggy was gonna fucking dust him if he showed up with a stranger out of the blue, he was going to have to call ahead with some warning.

Shit, he really hadn't thought this through, at all, the League's base was the only safe place he could possibly take Rei and it was filled with unhinged lunatics that would probably scare the poor woman to death.

Although she had been married to a complete monster for half her life, and had enough guts to escape with a villain at the first opportunity. Maybe she wasn't any more frail than she was sane.

Maybe he broke you but he broke me too, yet here I am, parading around in this shattered husk, pretending I belong anywhere but six feet under.

Dabi had worked hard to maintain his mysterious image, the man with no name or past, a ghost in the system. It was necessary, a requirement for his master plan to have any kind of satisfying impact. He'd maintained the act for this long by keeping people at arm's length, trust no one and no one can betray you.

All of that would come crashing down if his mother spent any more than five fucking minutes with Himiko Toga.

The last thing he wanted was to drag his entire lifetime's worth of baggage into the League's hideout in one condensed human sized package, but he'd already started digging this hole, there wasn't anywhere left to go but down.

He opened his phone and scrolled down to 'Crusty Bitch' in his contacts before pressing call.

"Do you have any fucking idea what time it is?" Shigaraki's groggy voice poured through the phone like sand through an hourglass, grainy and impatient.

"I need a favour." Dabi said, his voice a careful mask of apathy.

"...Holy fuck you must be in real deep shit if you're asking me for a favour." Shigaraki said, the venom in his voice leeching away in his surprise. "The fuck have you gotten yourself into?"

"Aw you almost sound worried about me, that's adorable." Dabi smirked.

"Fuck you. I'm hanging up, sort out your own mess." Shigaraki snapped, all venom returning in an instant.

"Wait shit hold on, I'm-" Dabi ran a nervous hand through his hair as he watched his mother chat idly with the cashier through the store window. "I'm bringing a... friend... to the base, they need a safe place to crash and I need everyone to not ask questions."

"...You're fucking joking right? We're not a hotel Dabi, you can't just-"

"Please."

The phone fell dead silent for an agonising moment, Dabi's head fell back as he squeezed his eyes closed in silent prayer to whatever god might listen.

"Okay, you can bring them to the base, but you're going to tell me exactly what the fuck is going on. If I don't like their story I'm dusting this friend of yours where they stand, got it?"

Dabi let out a relieved breath he hadn't realised he was holding. The threat was an empty one, or at least it would be when Shigaraki discovered that Dabi's 'friend' was just an innocent civilian woman escaping a domestic abuser. The man was deranged but even he had some sympathy for those let down and left behind by hero society, it was why he tolerated the absolute lunacy of the dysfunctional codependent family he'd managed to form around himself.

"Got it, see you in an hour, and..." Dabi paused and rubbed at his eyes, suddenly feeling very tired. "And thank you, I owe you one."

"Ugh, don't thank me, you'll give me hives."

part 3 ~

#lula's mha brainrot #lula's fanfics #mha #dabi #touya todoroki #rei todoroki #mha fanfiction #my hero academia

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