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helliontherapscallion · 4 years ago

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Adrenaline Junkie

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17

Spotify Playlist (collaborative)

Ages (oldest to youngest):

Philza- 32

Technoblade- 17

Wilbur- 17

(Y/N)- 16

Tommy- 14

Pairing: platonic!sbi x winged!sibling!reader

Warnings: near death experiences, mentions of depression, OOC sbi (this is my first time writing about them)

Summary: Philza finds out about your little “habit”

Word count: 1,962

You grinned as you flew through the air with your feathers glinting in the low sunlight. You absolutely loved the feeling of freedom you got whenever you flew. It always gave you a sense of calm when you needed a break from your family. You loved them of course, but you needed a break once and a while; you often felt drained if you didn’t take some time to yourself. The cold air rushed past you as you continued to flap your wings to keep you in the air.

You could not see the ground below you as you soared higher into the clouds, weaving in and out of them. Flying higher, you steadied yourself to look at the sunset. The mixture of pinks, oranges, and yellows blended together perfectly. You always loved the sunset, it was one of the only consistent things in your life. You wished that you could stay hovering hundreds of feet above the ground, but mobs were going to be spawning soon. The last time you stayed out past sunset you had almost gotten killed by a skeleton. Your dad had given you quite the lecture after he made sure that you were alright. You still had the scars on your arms from when it tried to shoot you out of the air.

You angled yourself so you were upside down, put your arms tight to your sides, and extended your wings fully behind you. You dove closer and closer to the earth, quickly picking up speed. The wind whipped around you as you gained velocity, getting closer and closer to the ground by the millisecond. At the last second, you fully extended your wings and drastically slowed your descent to the ground. The extra velocity you had made you soar up once again before you regained control and landed safely on the ground. The adrenaline that the skydive gave you was the most exhilarating feeling you’ve ever felt, and you were always craving it. Your dad didn’t find it as fun or exhilarating as you did.

“(Y/N) (M/N) MINECRAFT.”

Your father’s voice boomed from behind you. You could tell that he was in a lecturing mood without even having to look at him. He grabbed your arm and spun you around. Grabbing your other arm, he looked you up and down with worried blue eyes. After seeing that you were alright, his gaze hardened and he took a deep breath.

“Do you have any idea how dangerous that was?”

He rattled on and on about how you could’ve killed yourself, but quite frankly you didn’t care if you died or got hurt. In your opinion, the adrenaline you got was worth it. You had three lives you could spend, and if you did die, you wanted to go out with a bang all three times. What could you say? You were an adrenaline junkie through and through.

He started to drag you inside the house mid lecture. Swinging open the door, he pulled you towards the kitchen, where the scent of fresh mushroom stew wafted from the pot on the stove. Your brothers looked at you each with their own different reactions. Techno looked as stoic as ever, Wilbur eyed you with slight disapproval, and Tommy looked at you with awe and excitement. They must’ve seen your little trick through the window.

“(Y/N) THAT WAS POGGERS! YOU WERE SUCH A BADA-”

Tommy’s excited rant was cut short as he saw the stern look on Philza’s face. After a few moments of hesitation, your brothers were making small talk with each other with Philza occasionally chiming in. Poking idly at your food, you contemplated how you should go about apologizing to your dad.

You supposed that the best route you could go was telling him that you wouldn’t do that again, but you knew you would do it again. That was the biggest adrenaline rush you’ve ever gotten and you were already craving it again. You couldn’t lie to your dad, your wings always gave you away by twitching uncomfortably whenever you lied. On the other hand, telling him that you felt empty when you didn’t have adrenaline coursing through your veins was not an option. He already has enough to worry about with working to provide for four teenagers. Deciding that your best bet was to lie to him and hope for the best, you zoned back into the conversation around you. Tommy was ranting about how he had broken his favorite sword dueling Techno.

“-do you have any idea how long it took me to find that enchantment, Techno?”

Techno huffed slightly in amusement. “Actually I do because I helped you find that enchantment. We found it in the village together, remember?”

“Tommy,�� Philza said tiredly, “we can get you another enchanted sword. Techno, you need to be more gentle with your little brother. You have to remember he’s three years younger than you, so he has less experience in dueling.”

Tommy grumbled to himself, busying himself with shoveling food in his mouth. Wilbur glanced at him with disgust.

“Do you have to eat like that, Tommy? It’s disgusting.”

“Well, Wilbur, it’s not my fault I’m hungry.”

“You’re eating like we don’t feed you.”

You usually enjoyed it whenever your siblings argue back and forth like this, but lately it didn’t make you feel anything. You didn’t feel much anymore if you weren’t pulling off impulsive stunts. Of course, you hid it from your family and acted like you did before. It was relatively easy since you were naturally a quiet person. You thought you were doing a great job at it, you pride yourself on your acting skills.

Dinner went by fast without anything notable happening. Since it was your night to clean up, you got to work after everyone parted ways for the night. You stacked the dishes left on the dinner table and got to work washing them. Luckily, since you lived with three teenage boys, you never had to deal with leftovers. You subconsciously stretched and twitched your wings, feeling restless without feeling the wind moving through your feathers. After you got done with putting the dishes away, you took a deep breath and set out on your search for Philza.

Walking into the living room, you saw Techno sitting near the fireplace reading one of his mythology books. “Hey, Tech. Do you know where Dad is? I need to talk to him.”

Without looking up from his book, he responded in his usual monotone voice. “Yeah, he’s up in his room. I think he’s going to bed early.” He paused for a second before looking up at you with sincerity. “You know, he was terrified when he saw you earlier. He thought that you weren’t gonna stop yourself in time. Hell, we all thought you were gonna die.”

That made you feel guilty. He already had to deal with providing and raising you four and he didn’t need anything else to worry about. You felt your wings droop slightly as you sighed.

“...Thanks, T. G’night, love you.”

You started to speed walk to Philza’s room without giving him time to respond. You needed to apologize to him and fast. Out of all your siblings, you were always the one to hate conflict and would always apologize first whenever you got into a disagreement with anyone. You were always the pacifist.

Walking past Tommy in the hallway, he tried to stop you to talk to you, but you ignored him with a dismissive wave of your wing. You heard him mumbling to himself as he started to walk down the stairs, probably to challenge Techno to a rematch. You nervously fluttered your wings, feathers occasionally brushing against the walls and causing you to shiver slightly at the small touch. Your hands were shaking slightly as you took a steadying deep breath and knocked on Philza’s door. Hearing his tired “come in”, you slowly opened his door. He situated himself so that he was sitting on the edge of his bed and gestured for you to sit next to him.

“Hey, Dad. I-I just wanted to say sorry for worrying you earlier. If I knew that it would stress you out, I wouldn’t have done it.” You sat next to him.

He sighed as he wrapped an arm across your shoulders, pulling you into his side. “I don’t care if it stressed me out. You could’ve gotten killed from a fall at that height. You could have lost a life. I don’t know what I would’ve done if you didn’t open your wings in time.”

“I know, I’m sorry.”

“Then why’d you do it if you knew that you could’ve gotten yourself killed? I just want to understand why you would pull a stunt like that, I’d never expect you out of all of your siblings to do something so dangerous.”

You took a deep breath as you contemplated your next words. You really wanted to tell him about how you felt empty without putting yourself in danger. You wanted to tell him that you didn’t feel like yourself anymore. Unconsciously, your wings started to twitch and pull themselves closer to your body.

You jumped when you felt something else wrap around you. You looked back and saw black feathers. Looking back up at your father, he looked at you with a concerned expression.

“Take a deep breath, you’re shaking hun.”

You looked down at your hands and to your surprise, they were shaking. You took a few deep breaths and clasped your hands together tightly while Philza rubbed comforting circles on your back.

“...It’s just that, I haven’t been feeling like myself lately, if that makes any sense. It’s like I can’t feel anything anymore without doing stupid things that could get me killed. It wasn’t the first time I’ve dived like that. One time I lost control and almost flew into lava-filled ravine.”

“...How long have you felt like this?”

“A few months now.”

Philza felt his heart break, how did he not notice that you were different for months? You could’ve gotten yourself hurt or permanently maimed yourself and it would’ve been his fault because he didn’t notice your mood shift.

“I’m so sorry I didn’t notice sooner.”

“It’s not your fault, Dad. I didn’t tell you anything was wrong. Please don’t blame yourself.”

“We can help you find something that’ll help you. Something less dangerous.”

“We?”

“Your brothers and I. They’ve been listening this entire time, weren’t you, boys?”

You heard shuffling and muffled voices arguing with each other before the door opened to reveal your sheepish brothers. Wordlessly, they all filed into the room. Tommy grabbed your shoulders and yanked you into a tight hug. You felt Wilbur hug your other side before he pulled Techno into the group hug also. You felt feathers tickle your cheek as Philza joined, wrapping his giant wings around you all. The family hasn’t had a group hug since you all started to hit your teenage years. For the first time in a while, you felt happy without risking your life.

After that night, you were right in your assumption that you’d be grounded (literally and metaphorically) from flying for a while while your family worked hard to find something safe that gave you a distraction. Soon, Wilbur found a book about the intricacies of redstone working and you were hooked. Sure, your family was rambunctious and a strange group, but you wouldn’t want it any other way.

#sbi x reader #winged reader #sibling reader #philza x reader #technoblade x reader #wilbur soot x reader #tommyinnit x reader #tw: near death #tw: depression #tw: swearing

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xaharadesert · 4 years ago

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Return to the Lazaret Alone Pt. 5 - Headcanon

Asra Alnazar x MC

A/N: Almost done! @snarkfinnicksoup, only one more to go after this! But of course, who knows how long it’ll actually take me to get around to writing it :) Requests are open! Oh, and for anyone who’s wondering, after I finish this request I have about 8 others that have been sitting in my inbox for way too long, so if it takes a long time for me to post your request, that’s why! I like to take my time and write these headcanons to the best of my ability! Please let me know if there are any spelling or grammar mistakes! Also, I know this didn’t touch on MC’s reasons for going to the Lazaret as much as the previous parts, but I feel like at this point it’s a bit repetitive. But, I made Asra’s perspective extra angsty to make up for it!

TW: crying, Lazaret, isolation, relationship insecurities, anxiety, panic attack, food mention, mentions of death

Spoilers for the end of the game!

💙Asra💙

Leaving an argument unresolved was one of Asra’s least favourite things to do

Even if the two of you couldn’t reach a compromise or some sort of agreement, he, at the bare minimum, always liked to soothe over any hurt feelings before separating in any way

Your last argument before you had lost your memories would forever be one of his greatest regrets, and he was determined not to make the same mistake by letting you think he didn’t love you completely

So even if you were angry, and needed some time to sort out your feelings before addressing the issue again, he would take your hand tightly in his own and tell you that he loved you before letting you go off on your own

With that being said, your most recent argument was much more bitter than usual, and even though he had still told you he loved you, he felt as though you hadn’t heard him properly

The both of you had gone to bed feeling bad, but neither of you had wanted to stay up any later fighting

Once sleep had reset your emotions, you could try again more peacefully in the morning

Or at least, that’s what Asra had hoped would happen

But when he woke up the next morning, it was to find you missing

Now normally, this wasn’t an unusual occurrence

He liked to sleep in late as often as possible, and no matter how long you slept, he would probably be in bed longer

So you not being next to him shouldn’t have scared him as much as it did

But to some degree, your emotions were connected, and he could feel his heart ache right along side you

He was out of bed before any other thoughts could register in his mind, throwing on some clothes, allowing Faust to slither into his shirt, and grabbing a few key items— most importantly, his compass

Not bothering with breakfast, he followed the compass’s needle as it pointed him toward what he desired most: you

He moved through the town quickly, not returning any of the greetings thrown his way by familiar townsfolk

An unpleasant feeling tugged at his gut, telling him that he already knew where you were

Telling him that the past three years had been a lie; telling him that his worst fears were a reality

Telling him that you were dead

His panic rose instead his chest, threatening to burst out

Doing his best to push it down, he kept moving, trying to convince himself that maybe you were just buying something at the edge of town

He couldn’t consider any other possibilities without breaking down

So when he came to the edge of town, the end of the dock, facing toward the Lazaret, that’s what he did

He broke down

Rationally, he knew you were fine

He didn’t know why you would have gone to the Lazaret, much less alone, but he knew that you were alive

But a larger part of him didn’t care

It insisted that you were dead, that he had failed to save you, that you hated him for everything he put you through

And he couldn’t help but fall to his knees, tears streaming down his face as he tried to stop himself from screaming for you

He felt like he couldn’t breathe; there was an invisible hand wrapped around his throat, slowly and painfully strangling him

The dock beneath him seemed to be falling away, and he felt like he was falling with it, not into the water below, but into an endless void

After what felt like an eternity, he slowly regained control of his senses

There were a couple people kneeling beside him, hovering but not touching as they tried to talk him back to reality

He didn’t recognize them, so they were likely just concerned passerbys, but he appreciated them nonetheless

It took a while, but eventually he was calm enough to convince them to leave him be

Now that the initial panic had passed by, he felt empty, but at the same time, determined

He wasn’t sure how long he had taken for himself, but he felt ready to find you and bring you back home, where you belonged

Quickly finding someone willing to ferry him to the Lazaret for a certain price, he sat in a small boat, staring solemnly at the Lazaret as it slowly grew bigger

When he reached the shore, he asked the boat’s owner to wait just a while until his return with you

He pulled out the compass and followed it once more, refusing to look at his surroundings lest he fall into panic again

It lead him into the lone building occupying the island and he pushed down his rising fear again, focusing on the fact that every step brought him closer to you

And there you were; curled up to be as small as possible, sitting on the ash covered ground

He choked back a cry and very nearly threw himself at you, holding you tight and trying not to break down again

You were startled for sure— Asra hadn’t made a sound when he came in— but he didn’t seem to notice, too busy being relieved and repeating quietly out loud that you were alive, you were safe, you were with him

And frankly, if you started crying to, then nobody would be able to blame you

The two of you clung together, crying for different reasons, but crying nonetheless

Eventually Asra managed to pry himself away from you just enough to look deep into you eyes

His cries slowly turned to laughter out of relief that you were safe, back to crying because of where he had found you, back to laughter again because, yes, he had found you, and you were alive

All in all it was a very messy and confusing time for the both of you

But eventually calm and relative silence fell over you as a comforting blanket, save for the occasional sniffle or chuckle

Frankly, neither of you was in a state to talk things through at the moment

You would, for sure, as there was no way Asra would ever leave anything unresolved ever again, but for that one day, all he wanted to do was take you home and hold you close

He shakily pushed himself to his feet, and tried to help you up despite not being very stable himself

The two of you left the Lazaret hand in hand, relieved to be together, but knowing you had much to talk about later

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mypoisonedvine · 4 years ago

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Hungry Like The Wolf | soft!dark!Ari Levinson x reader

summary: when you need ari’s help for a secret mission with the CIA, he expects gratitude from you— and he wants a lot more than just a thank you card.

word count: nearly 6.5k

warnings: smut (dub con/coercion/sex as bartering tool), oral sex (f receiving) and vaginal sex, overstimulation, possessiveness/very very slight yandere vibes?, some violence and gun use, mentions of human trafficking/warfare, religious discussions and traditions but not particularly orthodox ones, vague discussions of sexism and misogyny with implied religious background, overall just lots of global politics and all that fun stuff

(a/n: I went ahead and wrote the hebrew and arabic in english lettering because tumblr doesn’t support right to left text so just a heads up. my arabic is very weak so I apologize if there are any errors.)

Taking a deep breath, you ran through your pitch in your head again. Sure, you’d had plenty of time to go over it on the plane, but one last recitation couldn’t hurt, right? Unable to stall any longer, you turned the knob and entered Ari Levinson’s office.

You’d heard he was good-looking but his appearance still surprised you; his long hair and thick beard made him look like he’d fit in with a rock band better than an intelligence agency, and his half-buttoned shirt put his Star of David necklace and muscled, hairy chest on display.

He must have caught your gaze trailing down because he smirked at you, making your cheeks feel a bit warm.

“Mr. Levinson,” you greeted as you looked up to his face again.

He greeted you as ‘Ms.’ instead of ‘Agent,’ but you let it slide since you were about to ask him for quite the favor. When he motioned for you to take a seat across from him, you did so with a nod and a quick smoothing of your skirt.

“So, what can I help you with?” he prompted.

This was the easy part; this was the part you’d rehearsed a thousand times. “There is a group of trafficked women and girls who have been rescued from all over— Saudi Arabia, Yemen, Kuwait— and gathered in Riyadh. We are working on a plan to move them to Cyprus and, eventually, Greece where they will be accepted into a camp there. Maybe they’ll end up in the States at some point, if we can swing it, but… Cyprus is step one.”

Ari nodded, listening to your story with more patience than anyone else had so far.

“As you can imagine, it would be a lot easier to move through Jordan and Israel and use your ports, rather than go around through Egypt or Syria…” He stared at you expectantly as you trailed off, and you cleared your throat before finishing: "The CIA would greatly appreciate Mossad's cooperation in the movement of these refugees."

"How much would they appreciate it?"

You paused, unsure what he meant. "Um, quite a lot, I'm sure…"

"I just mean that we have missions the CIA could be a useful assist for, too,” he clarified, interlacing his fingers and resting his hands on his lap. “You guys have a lot more resources than we do. If we help you out, is this going to be an allyship we can rely on?"

You swallowed dryly, pondering if there was a way to get out of this before you sighed and slumped down in your chair, leaning a little closer to him. "Alright, I have to be honest with you: it's not really the CIA that's asking for your help."

"Then who is?"

"Me. Just me. I'm the only one who believes in this mission; I'm the only one fighting for these people. The CIA won't help you because they won't even help me and I work for them."

He slumped his shoulders a little bit. "Then I'm not sure if I can afford to say yes to you."

"Please," you implored, "I know I can't offer you as much as they can, but I'll do whatever I can to make this work. Please," you repeated as you laid your hand over his, noticing the way his expression shifted a bit, "help me."

"I've been the one person fighting for a mission before," he remembered, voice a little softer. "I know how hard it is to go it alone."

You smiled gently at him.

"And, I know how far I would've gone to get my people to safety."

His hand flipped around suddenly and grabbed yours tightly, pulling you closer as you gasped.

"How far will you go?"

You shivered, the darkness in his eyes burning right through you even when you tried to look away. "Mr. Levinson, I—"

"Call me Ari," he instructed gruffly, grip tightening around your wrist until you yelped softly.

"Ari," you corrected, "I have money—"

"Don't want it."

"I can offer you my assistance in—"

"Don't need it."

"Tell me what you need,” you requested softly.

"I need to know you're gonna show me this 'great appreciation' you promised,” he answered quickly. “I need to know that if I take care of you, then you'll take care of me."

You gulped but nodded. "O-of course…"

"Good."

He released you from his grip and stood up, smiling at you like nothing had even happened.

"Pleasure doing business with you, madam."

You stood up and left his office in a haze, unsure if what had just happened was a dream or reality. But, sure enough, he showed up the next day where you’d told him to meet you, and brought some money and fake passports that you desperately needed. Frankly, just having a man around was going to make things smoother for you, even if it was a white man who didn’t exactly blend in by any stretch of the imagination. Seeing him again the next day only reminded you how big he was, tall but moreso heavy with muscle; he looked pretty cramped in his tiny coach seat on the plane to Dubai (your connecting stop where you’d spend the night before flying out to Riyadh).

“Bloody mary, please,” he requested from the stewardess with a gentle nod, turning to you.

“Uh, just water, thanks,” you ordered quickly with a tilted smile. You had brought a book to read, but Ari insisted on barraging you with personal questions about your job, your personal life, your favorite things— he seemed fascinated by the most mundane things, and disinterested in giving his own backstory.

Of course you considered that it wasn’t a great idea to tell him so much about yourself, let him in your head and under your skin. But then again, you’d put your trust in him enough for the mission, so you ought to trust him completely, right?

So why did his stare send shivers up your spine?

There was room for you and Ari at a CIA safehouse outside Dubai; it wasn’t exactly luxurious or anything, but at least you weren’t going to have to share a room… or a bed.

Normally staying in a safehouse meant sharing common areas with a random assortment of other agents, but it being a Friday night in Dubai meant they were all out enjoying the local nightlife while you two stayed in. Hoping to review a game plan for the mission with him, you found Ari’s door open, peeking around to see him on his knees on the floor, a candle burning before him, and his hands raised to cover his eyes and face.

“Shema Yisrael,” he sung to himself below his breath, “Adonai Eloheinu, Adonai Ehad…”

He jumped a little when he uncovered and opened his eyes only to find you standing there. “Shabbat Shalom,” you greeted.

“Shabbat Shalom,” he nodded back.

“I’m sorry you’re forced to take your Shabbat alone,” you apologized, “and that there’s nobody other than me to appreciate your vocal chops.”

His cheeks tinged pink at that. “It’s all part of the sacrifices we make for our missions, eh?”

“Then I suppose you don’t mind that you’ll be doing plenty of work tomorrow,” you presumed.

“You probably realized by now that I’m not actually so traditional,” he chuckled, extinguishing the candle and standing up. “I work on the sabbath quite a lot.”

“I hear work is permitted if it is needed to save a life.”

He smiled, but he looked a little sad; maybe not sad, but tired. “With me, it always is.”

The silence was thick as you tried to reconcile that this was the same man that had grabbed and threatened you— was it a threat? You couldn’t even tell anymore. Apparently he wasn’t going to take whatever it was that he wanted until you’d finished the mission, and that should’ve made it easier to procrastinate your worry, but the extra time to ponder what it was actually going to be only brought further anxiety.

Of course, you had an idea of what he was going to ask of you, but the fact that nothing too untoward had happened in his office when you first met him was throwing you off. In that moment, you were just waiting for him to tell you to get on your knees and show him how bad you wanted these women rescued, but he didn’t. Wouldn’t have been the first time somebody tried to bribe you into sex; it would’ve been the first time, however, that you actually considered doing it.

Now, the anticipation just made it worse; you were working with him every day and he always acted normal, as if there wasn’t this looming threat of whatever favor he was going to ask from you in return.

Once you actually got to work the next day, it was easier not to think about that. You barely had any extra brainpower to think about anything except survival and extraction. Still, each time you looked at him only to find him already looking at you, your hands shook a little.

“You’ve been driving for 10 hours, you’re sure you don’t want me to take the wheel?” you offered, watching him blink a few times to clear his vision.

“Not worth getting arrested,” he frowned.

“We’ll only get arrested if we get caught.”

“Not worth the risk of getting caught. And I don’t know about you, but if I get arrested here, I’ll probably be killed, too.”

You chewed your lip as you appreciated that it was probably worth avoiding as much trouble as possible. It’s not like the CIA was popular in these parts, either, and for good reason.

“What’s that up ahead?” he asked, leaning further forward against the steering wheel and squinting.

“Um,” you stalled as you unfolded the paper map in your lap, “I’m… not sure.”

“Looks like a barricade,” he announced, and it did; a gate with two guards and barbed wire on either side.

“There isn’t supposed to be a stop here,” you reminded him as you frantically shuffled around the map, making sure you were where you thought you were and that there wasn’t a mark indicating a vehicle stop on the road.

“What do we do?” he asked, looking around as if he was considering veering off the path even though that would be equally dangerous.

“There isn’t supposed to be a stop here,” you repeated, more anxiously.

“Well, there is,” he replied, his own agitation clearly increasing, “so we’ll have to go through it.”

“They’re going to pull us over.”

“Probably,” he admitted.

“And they will search the back of the truck.”

“I’d be surprised if they didn’t. How well do you think they’re gonna take it when they see eighty-something women packed like sardines?”

You chuckled a little even though you were anything but amused. “Um, not good.”

As the men at the stop waved to signal your car to slow down, Ari sighed a little. "I'll ask once again: what do we do?"

"Act natural," you suggested quickly as you lifted the scarf draped around your head to cover your nose and mouth.

Ari slowed down to a stop, lowering the window to talk to the officer outside and putting on a fake English accent. “How can I help you, sir?”

“Identification please,” he requested sternly. Ari smiled as he grabbed his and your passports, handing them over through the window. It was a long, awkward moment as he flipped through the thick papers slowly, his partner leaning down to look through your window but never taking his hands off his gun. “What brings you out here?” the man finally asked.

“My wife and I operate a restaurant in Jordan, and we get most of our equipment here because the workmanship is better,” Ari explained. “Just passing through with our new stoves and oven hood.”

The officer glanced back over your truck, his expression mostly unreadable but overall not necessarily friendly-looking. “Could you step out of the vehicle please?”

“Hal hdha daruri?” you asked quickly; Is this necessary?

“Alsamt,” he replied in a hiss; Silence.

Ari looked around like he was thinking but nodded and reached for the handle to his door. You did the same, the second guard stepping out of your way so you could swing open the rusted metal and step out.

The men guided for you to circle the car with them, stopping at the back and staring at the metal sliding door that was latched shut.

Turning to address Ari, the guard’s face dropped completely as he got a bit more serious. “What am I going to find in your vehicle?”

“Kitchen supplies, like I said,” Ari insisted.

As the officer reached for the latch on the back of the truck, Ari shot you a wide-eyed look and you gave him a quick nod. He lunged at the second guard, wrestling him for his gun while you went after the first, who was much easier to take down with him being distracted by trying to unlock the back of the truck. Your CIA instincts told you to shoot him once you’d grabbed his weapon, but thankfully you knocked him out with the butt of it instead.

Loud pops of gunfire beside you made you fear the worst, but Ari had managed to push the gun toward the sky before pulling it out of the officer’s grasp, swinging it wildly until it made contact with his head and he fell to the ground.

Gun in hand and panting heavily, Ari looked back at you with a grin. “That wasn’t so bad.”

“You almost got shot,” you reminded him.

“A little more than almost,” he corrected, showing you a gash where a bullet had grazed arm.

“Shit, Ari!” you yelped, running over to him and inspecting the wound. The way he looked down at you as you clutched him made you sort of regret it, though.

“It’s fine,” he assured you, but he made no effort to push you away.

“I… should check on the girls,” you decided, a little bit distracted but making your way back to the truck to roll up the metal back and examine the women inside, who looked scared at first but relaxed when they saw you.

“Kli shay' ealaa ma yaram,” you assured them that everything was fine, “nahn taqribaan 'iilaa al'urduni, wasawf nasil 'iilaa alsafinat allaylat.” We're almost to Jordan and will arrive at the ship tonight.

They relaxed a bit and smiled at you, a few muttered ‘shukraan jazilaan’s (meaning ‘thank you’) echoing from inside. You hated to shut the back and plunge them into darkness again, but they had assured you before that they would brave any conditions for a chance at freedom. You hoped they meant it.

“Please, let me drive, you’re injured,” you offered to Ari as he started to make his way toward the driver’s side door.

“It’s not even that bad, and we’ve had enough run-ins with the law today,” he dismissed.

“Then let me patch you up first, okay? Is that so terrible?”

He smiled a little. “No, I guess not.”

And that was how you ended up leaning on him in the passenger seat, supergluing his arm shut, trying not to think about how his bicep was probably bigger than your head.

“You’re a pretty good medic,” he observed, speaking quietly since you were so close.

“When you’re as clumsy as I am, you have to be,” you responded, sounding monotone due to focusing mostly on your work. “It shouldn’t scar too—”

You stopped when you looked up at him, because the way he was staring back down at you made you completely devoid of the ability to speak or even conjure words in your mind. You’d never seen him so close before and those piercing blue eyes made your head spin.

“What were you gonna say?” he asked softly,

“It… shouldn’t scar too bad,” you finished, “as long as you keep it clean and dry.”

“I generally aim to keep my entire body clean and dry,” Ari chuckled.

“Right, yeah, well— keep up the good work, then,” you stammered as you wrapped some gauze around his arm and rolled his sleeve back down over it.

“Let’s hit the road before we waste any more time,” he suggested, and with a nod you leaned back into your seat.

The radio blasting was the only thing keeping both of you awake as you drove through the dark. The border to Jordan was easy enough, and both of you sighed with relief as you crossed into Israel. It was by far the biggest blockade you’d seen so far, but of course, Ari got you in faster than you’d moved through anything else.

“Good to be home?” you asked when you saw Ari smiling as he looked around at the streetlights through the windshield.

“You could say that,” he answered. “Think we have time to stop for falafel before we get to the port?”

“Not unless you plan on buying for all your passengers,” you laughed, motioning toward the back. “If they have to wait until we reach the ship, so do we.”

“Yeah, that’s fair,” he relented. “Besides, probably better to be seen by as few people as possible. Even if we’re in friendly territory, it’s still a covert operation and all.”

“Wow, so you do have some desire to play by the rules,” you gasped in faux shock. He smiled and shrugged a bit.

“More like the rules and my desires occasionally overlap.”

It was past midnight when you pulled into the port, surrounded by ships so big that you couldn’t see the tops of them from inside the car. A cargo ship was waiting for you, along with some Navy men who helped you escort the women onto the vessel.

Since it wasn’t meant to accommodate this many people, the refugees occupied extra crew space while you and Ari were given sleeping bags in an unused office; you were so tired, though, that it actually looked enticing.

As soon as you’d set your pack down and shut the door, you heard a distant horn and felt the ship begin to move. You let out a long sigh as you leaned against the desk, watching Ari take a seat in the chair and start laughing exhaustedly.

“We did it,” you smiled, “we fucking did it.”

“We’ve still got a long boat ride ahead of us,” Ari mitigated, “but yeah… we should be in the clear, and tomorrow afternoon we’ll be in sunny Cyprus.”

You were so elated from the high of a successful mission that you forgot to worry about Ari’s vague request all those weeks ago; it was probably the first time you hadn’t thought about it since then, truthfully. That changed when his smile fell as he looked up at you, eyes darkening a little and scanning your body.

“You’re a great agent,” he nodded slowly, “and an incredible woman. You saved a lot of people tonight.”

You shifted nervously under the weight of his stare, but tried to hide your discomfort. “I… couldn’t have done it without you.”

“I know,” he informed you coldly, standing up and approaching you. “I think I’ve gone above and beyond on my end of our deal.”

A pit formed in your stomach, growing with each step he took towards you. His eyes stayed trained on you except for when he glanced to the side to flip on the radio, American music suddenly piping through the speakers.

— discord and rhyme, I’m on the hunt, I’m after you…

You looked to the radio as well but his hand gently guided your jaw until you looked back at him; he was closer than ever, and you had to look up to meet his gaze, shivering as he ran his thumb over your bottom lip slowly.

“Are you good for your end of the deal?” he asked lowly.

And I’m hungry like the wolf…

You swallowed, hoping it would somehow ease the ache in your gut as you realized what was about to happen, before nodding meekly.

He smirked a little. “Good girl,” he praised, only a bit louder than a whisper, as his hand moved to cradle your face. “You want me, don’t you?”

Your brow furrowed as you tried to figure out how you were supposed to answer that. “I want to repay you, for all you’ve done for me.”

“No, not just that,” he disagreed, “you want me. I know you do. You don’t need to hide it, we’re alone…”

Hesitant but catching on to his desires, you nodded a little.

“Say it.”

“I want you, Ari,” you whispered.

It felt like forever waiting for him to kiss you as he leaned in slowly, eyes half-lidded and dark but never leaving you. As his lips brushed against yours, you finally let your eyes flutter shut and reciprocated his kiss. His hands felt especially big as one slipped behind your neck and the other rested on your waist; in fact, with the way you had to crane your head up to kiss him back, all of him felt big. Including the part you were pretty sure just bumped against the inside of your thigh.

His kiss was soft and patient but determined, slow but somehow still moving faster than you were ready for. You gingerly reached up and rested your hands on his shoulders; they were strong and warm beneath your touch, even through his shirt. You couldn’t think of the last time you’d been kissed like this, or held so tenderly like this, but then again, you were also sure that nobody had scared you like this in a long time, either. For a woman who always knew what to do in a dangerous situation, you couldn’t seem to get a read on Ari Levinson— mostly because you didn’t truly believe he was dangerous. But maybe you should.

When his hands reached up to start unbuttoning your blouse, you pushed him back a little.

"N-not here," you protested, "someone could hear, or walk in."

"There's nowhere else to go, and I'm not waiting 'til Cyprus. I need you now."

He kissed you again before you could respond, more forceful and desperate. You let him work open your shirt this time, his fingers dancing over your skin as he pulled it off your shoulders and tossed it aside. The feeling of him working your bra open made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up, but his tongue slipping into your mouth distracted you and before you knew it, it was gone as well. Your nipples hardened in the cold air— or maybe they’d been that way already, for whatever reason— but they reacted even stronger to his thick fingers gently pinching them as his palms cupped your breasts.

You gasped against his mouth a bit, your breathing getting heavier as he moved his hands down to your trousers. The idea of being naked when he was still fully-dressed scared you, but you didn’t have time to think about that anymore when he pulled back to drop to his knees, taking your pants and underwear to the floor with him.

He looked back up at you with a mischievous grin as you cautiously stepped out of them. After guiding you to sit up on the table, neither of you stopping to consider how rude it was to put your bare ass on somebody’s desk in a borrowed ship, he slowly parted your legs. As he kissed a trail inside your thigh, you felt your hands clutch the edge of the table tightly with anticipation. You felt so exposed with his face right there, to the point that your cheeks were burning with embarrassment, and yet you couldn't manage to tear your eyes away from his as he leaned in to lick you teasingly with the tip of his tongue.

"Fuck," you shivered, feeling your inner walls quiver as he moved so delicately. You kept waiting for him to really get into it but he was determined to stay gentle and slow, circling your bud for one glorious moment before stopping again. "Ari, please," you whispered without even realizing you’d said it.

"What do you want, baby?" he asked darkly, his voice deep and gravelly as he ran his hands up the back of your legs.

Your begging whimper was so pathetic you could hardly believe you were hearing yourself. "More, please…"

He dove right in after that, suddenly latching onto your clit and letting his tongue explore every fold, every wrinkle, every sensitive spot with thick, wide licks. Your head fell back and your hands jumped to weave into his hair— that gorgeous fucking hair that had driven you halfway insane. It was soft between your fingers, and in this light you could see the touches of red, blonde, and maybe even grey scattered into the brunette. Better yet was the way he moaned against you when you accidentally pulled it, your hands clenching into fists against his scalp each time he sucked on your clit just right.

"Ari, baby, fuck," you groaned, feeling your hips shift a little as if to try to get more of yourself in his mouth.

Sensation was sparking under your skin faster than you knew what to do with it, faster than you had ever figured out on your own, and definitely faster than anybody else had ever managed. You felt your body shaking and couldn’t suppress it at all, every part of you (inside and out) quivering uncontrollably. It would’ve been embarrassing except that he seemed to be enjoying it quite a bit, egging you on with his tight grip on your thighs, and his deep moans that reverberated over your body, and the way his brow furrowed like it almost pained him to see you like this. Your back arched so dramatically that he had to hold onto your hips tight to keep you in his mouth, but he managed to maintain what he'd been doing— in fact, he didn't stop even when you started to whine and cry, feet digging into his back as you tried not to explode from the overstimulation on your sensitive clit.

"S-stop, s'too much, can't take it," you pleaded, looking down at him.

He looked back up at you with dark, dilated eyes that said 'you're gonna take it.' His tongue lapped at you with renewed vigor, sending you tumbling over the edge again and again and again.

Tears were streaming down your face when he finally relented, standing up slowly and staring you down as he wiped his face with the back of his hand; your arousal had coated his mouth and most of his beard, too. You bit down on your lip to stop it from shaking as he slotted himself between your legs again, slowly unbuttoning his shirt and smiling as he watched your gaze trail down every inch of newly-exposed skin.

You knew he was in good shape, because it was always obvious, but you still shivered a little when you were greeted with chiseled muscles, dusty-blonde hair, a few stray freckles and scars, and last but not least, the gauze wrapping on his arm where you’d patched him up before. It was nice to see a piece of your handiwork on something so flawless, like how it must feel to design the frame that holds a Monet. Your mouth was even watering as you followed the trail of hair down to where it was interrupted by his jeans, which were misshapen with the unmistakable outline of his neglected cock. Either you could actually hear it throbbing, or that was just your heartbeat in your ears as he made a show of undoing his buckle and fly slowly.

A breath caught in your throat as he slid the jeans down and kicked them off with his boots, his cock bouncing up against the bottom of his abs once he’d freed it. You hoped to hide your intimidation, but you must have failed from the way he smirked and licked his lips as he stepped forward and pressed it against your stomach; you felt a little dizzy seeing the head of it reach past your bellybutton. "That's how deep I'm gonna be in you, baby."

For all his delicacy and tenderness in everything before now, he must have had a change of heart; with a little growl, he pushed all the way into you with one brutal thrust, watching darkly as your head fell back in a choked scream. He didn’t stop for very long, either, setting up a pace that was slow but unyielding, his length filling every part of you and then some with each slam of his hips into yours.

He grabbed your hair tightly and suddenly, pulling your head back to expose your neck to him. He licked and sucked along your pulse until you were shaking against him, nails accidentally digging into his shoulders a little bit as you held onto him.

His lips trailed up to pull you into a frenzied, sloppy kiss, your mouth slack wide for him to explore however he wanted.

"Tell me how it feels," he growled against your lips.

It feels like my body is on fire but I like it. It feels like you're shaping my insides to fit you exactly how you want. It feels like you might split me in half before you're done with me, but if you stop now I'll fall apart even worse.

His grip on your hair tightened at your lack of response. "Gettin' fucked too good to answer me, huh? So full of my cock you can't even speak. Is that right, pretty baby?"

You nodded as you buried your face in the crook of his neck, your hoarse moans and sobs muffled by his skin.

"Aw, poor thing," he purred, wrapping his arms around your back. His lips brushed against your ear as he spoke to you in a deep mumble, the bass of his voice sending shivers down your spine with each word. "You don't have to tell me, I know how it feels… you're so wet that you're fucking dripping, your needy little pussy is clamping down on me like it's the end of the fucking world, and you're screaming for me so loud I bet half the ship can hear you. I know how it feels, baby; it feels so good that you're already about to come for me."

You gasped as he pushed you to lay back on the table, hoisting your legs up over his shoulders; you felt a bit whorish seeing your legs up in the air like that, especially when he leaned to the side to plant a wet kiss on your calf.

Soon he was letting your legs slip back down to his hips, leaning over you and caging you in with his thick arms, watching your face as he started to fuck you harder. His long hair was at risk of tickling you as it fell down beside your face, but it was that Star of David necklace that was dangling from his neck and swinging right in your face with every thrust. Slightly annoyed by it hitting your face from time to time, you stuck out your tongue to catch it, holding it between your teeth and finding that biting down on it helped you cope with the slight pain of him so deep inside you anyways.

"Baby," he moaned, inspired by the sight to grab your hips even tighter and slam into you even harder. "Fuck, I'm close," he hissed. "Gonna fill you up so good, baby, gonna ruin you for anybody else, huh?"

"Yes, Ari," you whimpered. "I'm close, too…"

"Go ahead, pretty girl, wanna feel how tight you get when you come— when I make you come."

Trying to hold it back only made it hit you harder, and as your moans grew louder and your body began to shake, you felt your walls flutter and flex intensely. He pulled his necklace out of your mouth and kissed you suddenly; it kept you grounded as you feared that the rest of you would float away, lost in pleasure so thoroughly that you'd never come back to reality. His moans mixed with yours as they moved between your tongues, and just when you thought you'd break into pieces if he didn't slow down, you felt his movements stutter and his cock pump inside you. You couldn't feel the warmth of it because you were already so hot all over, but the way his cock swelled as he came was unmistakable and overwhelmingly erotic.

He broke the kiss but didn't pull away, catching his breath while he stayed inside you, resting his forehead against yours.

After cooling off for a moment, he scooped your limp body into his arms and lifted you into his chest; you wrapped around him and let him carry you to the other side of the room where he set you down on the pallet sleeping bags and blankets. You whimpered as he pulled out, his softening cock still big enough to make you wince. The gush of warm, sticky come made your cheeks burn even if it also sent a dulled tingle of arousal up your spine. He was gentlemanly enough to wipe you off with a towel, mumbling something about how pretty you looked stuffed with his come, but you couldn't really focus on any of that because you were still waiting for sensation to return to your numbed extremities— brain included.

He turned his head and laid it on your chest, and you found yourself absent-mindedly scratching his scalp with your nails.

"That's nice," he whispered, but you could tell that already by the way his skin was erupting into goosebumps, and the way he held you tighter.

You must've laid like that for hours, or maybe it was just a few minutes, but it was one of those moments that felt like a piece of forever. He lifted his head to look up at you, pulling you down a bit so his face hovered over yours.

"What's next for you after you get these women to Greece?" he asked quietly.

You chewed your lip as you thought about that. "Back to DC, I figure, and then wherever they send me next. I hear they might want me undercover in Cuba or Russia…"

"How often do you end up in Jerusalem?"

You squirmed a little beneath him, but he slipped his arm under your neck and pulled you closer; how were you supposed to think with his bicep right by your face like that? "Uh, not often, but if I'm in town I'll give you a call—"

"Come with me," he requested softly. "Get to Cyprus, go to Greece, and then meet me in Tel Aviv."

"Ari, I can't—"

"Why not?"

You laughed a little, but he clearly wasn’t joking. "Because I have a job?"

"You won't need a job," he shrugged, "I make good money and you can just live with me."

Your throat went dry as you stammered, trying to figure out if he had seriously just asked you to quit your job and move in with him.

"You'll like Israel. You speak some Hebrew don't you?"

"Uhh, yeah but—"

"Then what's stopping you?"

You couldn't answer because you didn't even know where to start with all the things that were stopping you. Your mouth opened and closed silently like a fish out of water, and he laughed at you lightly.

"Just say yes," he encouraged gently, and your heart twisted as you wondered if this was part of the deal, if you needed to do everything he wanted to keep him on your side. You were on an Israeli ship, sailing international waters; if he changed his mind now, he could still sell you out and have these people arrested or worse. But he wouldn't do that, right?

Perhaps the more important question was not 'would he do that?' but rather 'are you willing to find out?'

"Yes," you heard yourself answer before you even realized you were considering it.

He grinned, hugging you tightly. He was already rambling about how great it was going to be and how he would spoil you all the time and maybe find a way to get you hired as a contractor at Mossad so he could bring you along on missions, but you couldn't hear it past the ringing in your ears. You desperately needed sleep, and his arms were warm and welcoming as you drifted off. He kissed your forehead before letting his eyes fall shut as well, joining you in unconsciousness.

The swaying of the ship was like being rocked to sleep, so much so that you slept for an uncharacteristically long time: you were just a few hours out from your destination when you awoke, in fact.

Instead of getting up and attempting to acquire some food, you laid there staring up at the ceiling as his heavy arm draped over your chest. Even in his sleep he had power over you, refused to let you go. You tried to remember how you'd ended up in this situation but instead you found yourself fantasizing about a chance at love. After running around the world for so long, there weren't many good men left to settle down with. And Ari was maybe not an entirely good man, but you believed him when he said he would treat you well. You'd shacked up with a lot worse in your time, when you were young and reckless and thought the worst thing you could be was alone. Still, a long-suppressed desire for companionship was awakening in your mind and you weren't going to swallow it back down this time. Smiling, you lifted his hand to your lips and kissed his knuckles. If what he wanted in exchange for his cooperation was your affection, you could do that.

#ari levinson x reader #dark!ari levinson x reader #ari levinson smut #chris evans x reader #ari levinson x you

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teddyylou · 3 years ago

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Monday: Klance Drabble - teddyylou

Keith woke to gentle kisses being pressed to the shell of his ear. Wrapped up under the warm covers of his bed, he pulled the strong arm that was hugged around his middle even tighter, pressing his boyfriend’s hand, which had crept up under his shirt as they slept, to his chest, kissing his knuckles.

“Hmm, morning, baby,” Lance hummed, burying his nose snuggly into Keith’s mess of black hair. Keith felt him breathe out happily, the way their feet brushed together at the foot of the bed adding to the serene feeling that was swiftly taking over all of his senses. Every place on him that Lance touched tingled with a warmth that sent goosebumps all over his body, and every breath they took in unison as they snoozed well past Keith’s alarm made his heart swell and his smile grow exponentially.

“Morning, Lance. Mmh, it’s so sunny and nice you could almost forget that it’s Monday,” he mumbled, rolling over so that he could face his boyfriend. “And your sleepy voice is just so sexy,” he giggled, pressing their foreheads together.

Lance scrunched up his face, still yet to open his eyes, simply holding Keith closer to him to stop him from wriggling around so much. “Yeah, you can even hear the birds chirping,” he replied with a content sigh, purposefully skipping over Keith’s crass sentiment.

“Aw, you also say really sappy, cliche things when you’re half asleep. Did you know that?” Keith’s aimed a toothy grin at Lance as he opened his eyes to lour, who merely pulled the pillow out from under Keith’s head and gently smack it back down over his face which a ‘whump’.

Keith tossed it aside, rolling over to share Lance’s pillow so that he could press a kiss to his lips. ‘The first one of the day’ he thought to himself, closed mouth to avoid Lance’s nasty morning breath.

“Hey Lance, you know you have terrible morn-”

Knock, knock.

“Keith, are you up? I heard your alarm go off. Breakfast will be on the table in five; don’t make me come and get you.” Keith and Lance froze as Keith’s mother spoke gently through the door from the hallway. Keith even heard Lance hold his breath.

“Yeah, uh, coming mum,” he called back. They waited for her footsteps to disappear down the hall before Keith could even tear his eyes away from the door, relaxing against his bed as Lance let out his breath with a disappointed sigh. He knew what was coming.

“Okay, Romeo, out you go.” Keith patted Lance’s thigh as he pulled back the covers. Lance, left only in his sweatpants, laid firmly on the mattress shaking his head.

“Nooo, I don’t want to go. Let me stay,” he whined, attempting to pull Keith back against his chest before he could reach for the hoodie he’d stolen from him about a week prior.

“Mum would kill me if she knew you’d been sneaking in at night, you have to,” Keith pleaded, eyes wide as he tried to force Lance out of his bed.

“Keith, I’ve been staying here about three nights a week for the last two months! You don’t think she knows?” He asked, leaning over the bed to put his socks back on, tying his converse with a huff.

“Nope,” Keith said frankly, shaking his arms until his hands poked out of the ends of Lance’s hoodie. He climbed out of bed, catching one of Lance’s arms as he grabbed his shirt, pulling him to his feet. “And she isn’t going to find out. Now, window. Out.” Keith gave Lance a gentle push towards the second-storey window, an easily slidable roof just underneath it that would drop Lance in the front yard of Keith’s house. Lance held his hand up to his heart, scorned.

“Nine whole months I’ve loved you and here you are, forcing your dear, sweet boyfriend out of a window to ride his bike the whole way home. How you wound me,” he feigned. Keith raised an unsympathetic brow, arms crossed over his chest.

“Forsooth,” he mused, causing Lance’s facade to crack with the upturn of the corner of his lip.

“Ah, so you finally did your English homework,” Lance said, one foot already standing on top of the garage. He straddled the window sill as he slid on his shirt.

“I may has't,” Keith smiled before dawdling over to Lance, handing him his phone. “See you at school.”

“Don’t be late,” Lance said, standing fully on the roof so that he could lean back in, hands supporting him on the sill. “I love you.”

Lance kissed Keith sweetly, clearly not caring as much about morning breath as Keith did.

“I love you too,” Keith said before leaning in again, even if he knew that Lance did it on purpose, because Keith really just wanted to kiss his boyfriend. “Bye.”

“Bye,” they muttered to each other between short pecks before Lance pushed himself up, slid down the roof, and landed skilfully on the lawn. Keith watched him as he ran down to the street, pulling his bike out of the bush he had stowed it in, and rode off towards his own house. Keith watched until he’d disappeared over the crest of the hill that led to his street, actually enjoying the warm sun and the singing birds because Mondays were always good when he started them next to Lance.

“Whatcha lookin’ at?” Keith was startled back to reality by his mother’s voice. He’d not even noticed she’d come back up to find him.

“Oh just… some birds,” Keith lied. Krolia stared at her son for a second.

“Okay,” she replied. “Come get breakfast, we have to leave soon.”

“Cool, be down in a sec.”

***

Keith woke up tangled in sheets and all of the extra blankets he and Lance had thrown over themselves as they went to sleep the night before. His entire body was engulfed in the warmth of the strong arms holding him close, heat radiating off Lance’s chest that was pressed tight to Keith’s back.

Lance groaned as they both stirred, instantly pulling Keith even closer as the raven wiggled around to face his boyfriend. Keith felt a sleepy kiss against his forehead as he tucked his face into Lance’s neck. It was warm there. No need or desire lingered to go anywhere else.

Lance adjusted his feet to intertwine them with Keith’s. He, however, managed to pull the blankets with him as he did and for a brief moment, a gust of piercing cold air let itself into their safe cocoon. In unison, they gasped an indigent “Ah!” and huddled in together, giggling as they found themselves safe from the dreary Monday morning weather.

They laid in silence, sharing soft, lazy kisses as the rain poured on outside. The windows were fogged and if they tried just the slightest it was as if nothing else in the world existed outside Keith’s bedroom.

Until they heard shuffling around in the kitchen below.

Keith let out a deep sigh, placing a few more kisses to Lance’s defined collar bone before patting his side solemnly.

“Hhh, you should probably go now,” he weighed the unfortunate words on his tongue as he spoke. Lance merely groaned in response, snuggling deeper under the mountain of soft blankets where the sting of the outside couldn’t get him.

“Keith, baby. You can’t possibly make me go out there. You wouldn’t make me ride home in the rain,” Lance begged, holding him and rocking him, like a half-hearted shakedown. Keith huffed, considering his options for a second.

He peeked his head out of the covers, hair still a mess over his face. It looked so cold out there that his skin prickled just at the thought of it. But then he thought of his mother downstairs, catching them. Each rattle of a closing kitchen draw made his heart pound. It was a tough choice.

“Oh my god, you’re gonna make me ride home. I can’t believe my small, loving, sweet boyfriend is going to send me out like this. I could catch a cold Keith. Do you wanna be the one looking after this snotty-nosed bastard?” Lance persisted almost too loudly and pointed to himself.

Keith snorted and placed his hand over Lance’s mouth to hush him. He thought about it for a second longer, eyes narrowed to a squint, shifting from the bedroom door to the window. Lance’s eyes remained wide as he awaited Keith’s verdict.

“Fine,” Keith said after a second. Lance whispered an elated cheer before pulling the both of them back under the blanket pile to cuddle.

Keith didn’t know what his next move was, but while he was laying so comfortably and soundly in Lance’s arms he was sure of one thing. That move was not going to be for many, many minutes. He opened his eyes so that he was just staring blankly at Lance’s chest as the brunet carded a hand through Keith’s knotty hair—the pair simply pretending that it wasn’t as such due to Keith sleeping like the dead, and Lance’s fingers totally weren’t getting stuck and tugging on a knot every few strokes.

Keith was almost completely lulled back to sleep when he heard a knock.

“Keith, I called you already what are you up to?” His mother’s voice became increasingly clearer as the door opened ajar and without a second to lose he threw the blankets over Lance’s head, holding them tightly up to his chin. He hoped it looked like he was just really cold, and that their entangled bodies just looked like Keith under a mass of about four quilts.

If Krolia knew anything, she wasn’t letting on; Keith thought he was safe.

“Oh, yeah, sorry. Bit hard to get out of bed today. I have to plan my course wisely to get from here to the warm shower with as little time in the antarctic hallway as possible,” Keith explained, trying to appear nonchalant as Lance feathered kisses to anywhere he could reach on Keith’s chest without moving. Krolia nodded inconspicuously.

“Okay, well, breakfast is on the table, get it while it’s hot,” she told him taking a step back out of the room. She stopped, however, just as she was about to close the door. “Oh, and there is a place set for Lance too,” she eyed Keith smugly, a faint smirk on her lips as she closed the door.

Keith heard a quiet ‘oh fuck’ from under the covers and, well, yeah. That.

#klance #laith #keith kogane #lancemcclain #klance fic #klance art #vld #voltron #vld fic #vld art #klangst #klance fluff #klance au #klance drabble #teddywrites

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starryse · 3 years ago

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New Beginnings & “Suite” Memories

Soonyoung x Reader

Fluff, crack, pg-13 (no sex scenes, but what leads up to it), best friends to lovers!hoshi

2.2k words

Summary: The one where feelings are confessed in an unusual way thanks to your back problems

You were blessed, you had to say. Most people who crush on someone hardly ever get the opportunity to first of all, confess, and second of all, talk to them. Unlike those who aren’t so lucky enough to do such things, you were. Of course, it had to come with the price of it being on your best friend, although you did get to talk to him so you could suppose it wasn’t as bad as you would think.

Kwon Soonyoung made it awfully easy to crush on him, so really it was his fault you happened to have fallen in love with him along the few years you’ve been friends. Not that you minded, really, if there was anyone you’d want to love with every ounce of you, it’d be him.

He was sweet, an absolute cheeseball with insane levels of energy, not to mention unbelievably gorgeous, and he had managed to be the only constant support you’ve ever had. To you, Kwon Soonyoung was all you ever needed to be yourself, to be happy, and to be loved.

And to everybody but the man himself, your growing crush was as obvious as your need to breathe oxygen to survive. It’s not like you hadn’t made several hints at it; you compliment him nearly everyday, are always the first person to be there when he needs someone, etc. But much like you, and probably why you’re such close friends, Kwon Soonyoung was denser than a brick wall. And even as you’re told you’d be staying together in a one bedroom suite on a separate floor than the rest of your crew so you can have quality time, the blonde really had heard that as they had just forgotten to buy the extra room near them, completely tuning out the “quality time” part. You were at a loss of words when it came to the notorious Hoshi, as smart as he truly was, he was probably the most thick-skulled man you knew. Fortunately, you had the tools to break through his thick interior, and much sooner than you had originally planned.

“Sooo,” Soonyoung plopped onto the bed, claiming dibs on the side closest to the door, “whatcha wanna do?” He slipped his bright red tennis shoes off, kicking his feet up onto the comforter to stretch his feet after sitting in the car all day.

You shrugged as you followed suit, tossing yours, as well as Hoshi’s scrambled shoes, into the closet next to the bathroom. You wandered around the room, finding out where all of the appliances and such were while Soonyoung mindlessly scrolled through the group chat as the boys texted their plans for the night.

“Joshua said that him, Vernon and Seokmin were going down to the gym. I dunno about that though, I’m feeling lazy”

Your head turned over your shoulder to look at him, you snorting at his excuse to not workout. At least he was honest, and quite frankly, you couldn’t blame him- a 6 hour car ride was far too long to have enough energy to do such an activity, “yeah I’d rather not workout right now,” you continued to aimlessly walk around the suite, which was much larger compared to what you were used to- but then again, this wasn’t exactly a hotel, think of it more as a resort, “I kinda just wanted to unpack our stuff and chill until we meet the boys at that diner tomorrow morning”

Soonyoung agreed, praising you for your smart idea with an approving nod of his head, “I like the way ya think, let’s do that”

And that you did. Except it was more you putting away your stuff, Soonyoung complaining he was too tired to do his so he’d beg you to do it for him (which you did, you simp). After an hour or so of organizing the suite for the week, taking a trip down to the convenience store the floor below you so you could stock snacks and drinks into your compartments, and bickering over the male being too lazy to put away his own things

“Soonyoung you have like 5 shirts just put them away”

“Nope sorry cannot do that, my arms said no”

“Hoshi-“

You were finally able to collapse next to Soonyoung on the bed.

You moaned as you sunk deeper into the mattress for extra comfort, your sore back feeling much better after sitting down in a cramped car for hours and then putting together the room. Your hand massaged your lower back, kneading the knot that had only gotten worse throughout the day.

Soonyoung looked over at you, his obviously not so pure mind being intrigued at the noises of content you had let out next to him, “whatcha doooin?”

“Mmm massaging my back, it’s been a pain in my ass today” you mumbled, too focused on easing the tensed muscles your fingers were rubbing against.

“Want me to do it?”

Now. Normally you’re absolutely fine when it comes to staying calm and collected around Soonyoung, you felt no need to let your silly little crush on him come between your friendship. But the idea of him massaging your back when you just know you won’t be able to keep certain pleasurable noises to yourself? You’d rather jump off a cliff; or even better, have soonyoung push you off himself.

A hand waved in front of your face, tan skin covering your unfocused sight, “hm sorry?” Your eyes blinked open a few times as you gazed over at Soonyoung for a few seconds, unaware you had completely zoned out and didn’t hear what he had just said.

He gave you an unimpressed look for not hearing him the first time, which you simply waved off because he had most definitely done that to you many times before, “I said flip over, lay on your stomach-“ he placed a hand on your side before gently flipping you 180 so your face was against the pillow, “-and relax, I’ll give you the Horanghae massage special”

Your face contorted in uncertainty, not quite understanding what the hell he was talking about, “Hosh what’re you-“ you tried to lift your head to see him, but you were soon met back against the plush pillow instead.

A sudden weight was draped over each of your thighs, warming your body from the contact. Soonyoung was currently straddling the back of your thighs, your legs pressed together down between his as he leaned forward to press his hands against your back.

“Didn’t I say shush?” Soonyoung’s question sounded more like a statement, his tone more assertive than usual.

You tried telling him no, but the words came out muffled thanks to your mouth being completely engulfed by the pillow. Though judging by the shut up he sassed back, you’d say he heard you just fine.

Soonyoung, unbeknownst to you, was in the mindset of hyping himself because dear God his confidence was going very very low right now because hello?? He was on top of you?? He could literally feel the heat on your body against him?? Focus soonyoung, you’ve got this he tried to encourage himself as he ever so slowly tucked his fingers underneath the hem of your long sleeve, hiking up the material until it met your lower shoulder blades by your bra strap. He was going to panic, he was very much so indeed about to shrivel up in a corner; until your muffled voice unexpectedly spoke up from below him,

“Please start doing whatever it is you’re going to do, my backs freezing thanks”.

His face flushed in embarrassment as he quietly muttered “sorry”.

He sucked in a breath, puffing his cheeks for a second while bringing his hands palm flat against your exposed back. Waiting for any signs of disproval, Soonyoung began to move his hands once there was none. His fingers folded into your skin, rubbing gentle motions onto your back as deep as he could to really help relieve the tension.

The touch of his hands pressing firmly against your bare back was enough to melt alone, but the way his hands moved ever so slowly and with so much delicance up and down your sides and onto the inner parts of your waist, oh you were past melting, you were disintegrated by now.

“How’s that?” Soonyoung cut the silence, words coming out quiet and gentle much like the way his hands moved down your body.

You hummed in response, not sure if your words would be good enough to use right now considering your brain was desperately trying to get you to tell him to just fuck you in the shower-

“Good, your muscles were really tight”

Dear God, why did God hate you?

Soonyoung knew what he was doing, he was as devilish as his older friend Jeonghan, even if it may not show most times. If he could just get you to show some kind of reaction that you wanted him just as bad as he wanted you, he’d have you flipped around hips flush against his in a heartbeat. But seeing it as you reacted by not saying anything at all, he was dejected. Time to amp up the big guns.

The stealthy boy smirked, watching two of his fingers and his thumb trail down the side of your waist, down your hip, and just above the flimsy band of your shorts. The goosebumps rising on your skin and the shaky breath you sucked in had him feeling utterly victorious now, boosting his ego just a tad that his idea was starting to work.

So he continued, this time with his index and pointer fingers dipped just below your shorts band, the rough padding on his fingers getting caught up on your underwear for a quick minute before he retracted it just as fast you could say holy shit. Which you did.

“Soonyoung,” you slowly spoke, lips parting just enough to let the words through.

You could see the smugness on his face he hummed in acknowledgment of the call of his name, waiting for your next words.

“Just fuck me already”

And that he did.

—————————-

Both of your breaths were rigid, chests heaving up and down in an attempt to regain your energy.

Soonyoungs voice was gravelly, though the giant shit-eating grin on his face expressed differently, “that-“ he sucked in a breath, “-was amazing, you’re amazing”

You giggled at that, shaking your head in response. You poked his chest a few times, him smiling down at your in utter adoration.

“We should go shower”

Soonyoung’s eyes went wide, “l-like together?” He stuttered out.

You laughed at his nervousness, “did we not just have sex? Is showering together too scary for you, hmm?” You reached up to pinch one of his cheeks as you pecked his pouting lips a few times.

Soonyoung huffed, untangling his arms around you before leaping up from the bed and trudging through the suite to the master bath. He yelled at you to hurry your cute ass up before shutting the door when you excitedly ran through to meet his awaiting arms.

The shower was drastically different compared to the previous activity you had just spent quiteee some time doing *cough, each other*. Rather than groans and sighs of pleasure, bantering and giggles was the only thing heard from your bathroom shower.

“Let me wash your hair, i've always wanted to do this” Soonyoung pleaded at you, his eyes casting hopeful glances into yours as you finished rinsing his chest off.

You quirked an eyebrow at that, “you’ve always wanted to wash my hair?”

“Yes! I’ve always played with your hair and I just always thought it’d be fun to wash it too!” Soonyoung was getting ansy at the thought, his grin widening and his words rushing together. So you turned around facing the water with your back nearly touching his chest so he could “fulfill his dreams”.

All was going well, he remembered your words when you said to only put the shampoo on your scalp and the conditioner on your roots. He was thorough in making sure he got every single piece of hair covered in soap, rubbing the lather in extra to make mini Mohawk’s on your head (he may have then quickly ran butt naked, soaking wet with water dripping everywhere, to the night table beside the bed just so he could take a picture of his masterpiece).

And then he began to rinse. Which was fine, he was so nearly done. And then came the bubbles that seeped down your forehead into your innocent bystander eyes.

“Ah- ow- Soonyoung my eyes?” Your eyes squeezed shut automatically at the stinging sensation, your hands trying to viscously wipe away the soap suds.

Soonyoung became quickly alarmed at the sound of your whines of pain, spinning you around rather fast and nearly causing the both of you to slip. He shoved your body under the water, joining you in wiping away the soap from your eyes. You sputtered out the water that had slipped into your mouth from the sudden push under the faucet, right onto the sheepishly smiling male in front of you.

“Hehe, sorry?”

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alreadyblondenow · 4 years ago

Text

Angeled | Lee Taeyong (TEASER)

Mafia!Taeyong x Nurse!Reader

▸ TOO MUCH FLUFF, TOO MUCH SMUT, TOO MUCH ANGST ▸ Strangers to lovers, Mafia au ▸ A fic out of nowhere by B

Summary: A young mafia boss turned his back to his old life when he experienced the calmness that peace brings when you came and saved his life on that stormy night. You and Lee Taeyong fell in love deeply without you knowing that you're sharing a bed with a dangerous man who is hated by many people. Little did he know, you are hiding a secret from him too. One that will break his heart in the future.

Warnings: Smut on smut on smut. The reader has heart disease so if you are uncomfortable with it, please click away. Mentions of: bruises, wounds, blood, guns, hospitals, drugs, alcohol, blood money, murders, and medications. Unprotected sex, nipple play, handjob, rough sex and intimate sex, oral sex female and male receiving, Somnophilia (with consent of course), heavy and mature themes. serious character death. SMUT UNDER THE CUT!!!!! A/N: Pure fiction. Now that I already finished my back to back smut fic for Jaehyun, it’s time for me to write a back to back smut fic for my number one man. So if you loved Sweet, you’ll love this too. Read Sweet here! Also idk if ‘Angeled’ is a word HAHAHA

“Tae, are you okay?” You heard loud thumps from the bathroom while Taeyong is having a shower.

“I am, but can you help me? I slipped” he groaned loudly. He doesn’t sound fine so you made your way towards the bathroom and slightly opened the door.

“Are you hurt?” you asked.

“A bit and, I’m naked too. But I badly need help if that's fine” you entered your bathroom and saw him in the tub with the shower on.

“Of course it's fine” you said as you enter and turned the shower off, making your clothes wet and your nipples visible through the fabric. He hurt his back but nothing seems to be serious, you checked his forehead and the cut on the side of his eyebrow is kind of deep, and it's bleeding badly so you cleaned it immediately.

“I’m sorry, I’m not usually this weak” he admitted and let out a frustrated sigh.

“You got shot and stabbed two times, of course, you’re weak. And don’t worry, the cut on your eyebrow won't ruin your handsome face” you tried to cheer him up which is successful.

“You think I’m handsome?” he was teasing you but he’s blushing so much. You nod and helped him get up, trying not to look at his big cock, but too late. You already had a peek. “It’s alright to look, your nipples are exposed too and I’m sorry- I can’t stop myself from looking” You let out a nervous laugh before you leave him and let him finish his shower, you told him to be extra careful and you will wait for him outside the bathroom.

And while you’re preparing the stuff you need for Taeyong’s wounds, his warm hands startled you when you felt him touch you by the waist. You turned around and saw Taeyong with only a shower towel wrapped around his waist, looking so handsome and hot with his wet hair and great body. “Sit here,” you said and pat the edge of your bed.

First, you tended to his fresh bruise by his eyebrows, and you didn’t miss the way he looks at you. You pretend that you see nothing and continue doing your job but deep inside your heart is beating so fast that your hands are starting to shake. He let out a soft giggle when he saw your hand and caught your wrist, making you let go of the used cotton.

By this time, your heart is beating faster than earlier. But when he kissed your cold palm, in a matter of seconds a warm feeling scattered around your body and it brought you great calm. “Don’t be nervous. It’s just me” he says and made your hand rest on his shoulder while he boldly proceeds to unbutton your soaked dress shirt. He was quiet for a few seconds and reached for your hand again only to kiss it and ask for your permission.

“Can I?” he was talking about removing your shorts and exposing more of yourself to him. You��re not stupid, you know exactly what will happen if you say yes. And quite frankly, you wanted it to happen as much as he does. So you nod calmly and watch him remove your thin shorts.

His hand moved immediately from below your knee, all the way to your waist, and give your ass a gentle squeeze. It was not too long before he finally continued and remove your panties, letting it fall on your ankles. And lastly, your dress shirt, which swiftly falls down from your arms and made you fully exposed to him.

“Tell me if you want me to stop and I’ll stop” he says when he pulls you closer to him without any warning and made you sit on his lap. His kisses on your body were tickling you, but there is a slight hint of roughness already because you feel his teeth brushing on your skin and his grip on your body becomes tighter. He pushed you on the mattress and grab hold of both of your legs, spreading them to his likeness and massaging your wet slit with his right hand. Lips locking finally, bodies to bodies, and slowly with all his strength he’s finally on top of you, comfortable in between your legs. Grinding his semi-hard cock on your wet slit while his hands roam freely around your body.

You exchange moans and catch each other’s breath with every kiss, stopping both of your worlds when he finally lined his cock on your hole and push in slowly, only to pull out and thrust a little bit harder this time. Taeyong did not hesitate to be rough and showed you how he usually fuck. "Tell me how it feels, hmm? Tell me” he commands with a hoarse voice as he rolls his hips deliciously, sharp, and deep, making you both moan so good.

“Good- ah!” He went a little bit faster while he pins both of your legs on the mattress and kisses your neck. “Fuck Taeyong what do you want me to say” you moan out, clawing his back but careful enough not to touch his bruises because you know his whole body still hurts right now. But he doesn’t care because this has been the best sex he had in a long time.

“Does this hurt?” He gave you a sharp piercing thrust that dragged your body near your headboard, his thrust was so rough that you needed to grab hold of your board instead of his body. It’s like he hasn’t had sex for years and now he’s pouring everything to you, and it hurts so good.

In no time, you started to clench and unclench around his cock. He was busy sucking your boobs and kneading them when he felt it and it made him crazy. “Pill?” he asked quickly, you can only nod and let go of your headboard and hug him again. You wanted to feel his body shiver and hear him moan closely while he cums, little did you know he wanted the same thing too. So he tightens his embrace and kissed you while he holds you by the waist tightly for he’s about to shoot his cum.

He groaned near your ear while giving you sharp thrusts and fucking you through your orgasm. Sucking and biting your right nipple as he shivers on top of you and continues to shoot his cum inside you while moaning, “Oh- ohhh” over and over again.

“Tae. I need uhm- I need you to get off, uhhh. I need water. I’ll be quick-“ you croak. Completely out of breath but you have to keep breathing.

“Y-yeah sure,” you pushed him to the mattress and off of you, quickly you made your way to the kitchen with heavy breaths. Reaching for your medication and drinking it in secret while waiting for its effect before you go back. That was close, you thought. He can’t know that you have heart disease.

With weak legs and a pale face, you went back to your bedroom, but Taeyong came out of nowhere and scoop you off the ground, and carried you bridal style back to your room. Which reminds you... he’s married.

He was all smiles and giggles with a soft cock as he puts you down the mattress and started kissing your body again. “I’m a terrible person” you said and turned your back from him, covering your face with your arm and trying your breathing exercises without him knowing.

“What? No- you’re literally an angel. Because of you, I’m still alive” he protests, making you face him and intertwine his fingers with yours. “What’s wrong?” he kisses your hands. Again. Something that makes your heart soft in an instant.

“You’re married. I found this in your pocket the night you... well, you literally fell into my arms” you reached for your drawer and showed him the thick and gold ring. Both of you stared at its beauty before you hand it to him.

“Well, I hate to break it to you but it’s not a wedding ring” he snorted and kissed your chest, trying to put you in the mood again. “Keep that ring, that’s important” he added and helped you put the ring back to the drawer.

Now that you're that he's not married and you're not fucking someone else's husband, you showered him with deep and lustful kisses. Tongue sucking and lip biting lustful kisses that made you both horny. “Okay, okay. I believe you, but I can’t go again” you said, slightly pushing him away with your hand on his chest. Thankfully he respects what you want and covers your body with your thick duvet.

“Can I at least keep you close?” He asks with a hopeful tone.

“You can,” you said with a smile that changed the mood and you invited him under the covers. His skin is cold, rough in some parts because of all the scars and bruises, but his whole being is beautiful. Oh you wanted to ask him why does he have a lot of scars, but you would rather not.

“By the way, are you okay? Was I too rough and that’s the reason why you can’t go again?” He asks with a soft tone while his fingers dance around your skin and go wherever it pleases.

The thing is, you’re not a liar but you can’t tell him about your condition. Maybe someday, but for now, you believe that he will see you as a weak person if he knew the truth. And you don’t want that to happen. So you don’t have a choice but to lie. “Yes, you roughed me up. Why though? Were you stressed?”

“I’m sorry, it won't happen again- I got carried away,” he said sincerely.

“No, it's fine. I needed it too, and it felt good” you pulled him closer and cup his cheek, “you were great” you said shyly, avoiding his eyes because you just said he fucked you good. He let out a laugh and wrapped both of his arms around you, trying to hide his blush and his big smile.

What happened between you and Taeyong on this beautiful afternoon is a clear explanation that you like each other. And if love grows between you two, Taeyong will not hesitate to embrace this second life. Although he is not worthy of a peaceful and quiet life, he knew that well, but when it comes to you he can’t help but be selfish.

#nct-writers #neowritingsnet #cznnet #neosmutcollective #kdiner #kpopscape #kwritersworldnet #nct smut #taeyong #lee taeyong smut #taeyong smut #nct taeyong #nct taeyong fluf #nct taeyong angst #taeyong x reader #lee taeyong x reader #nct x reader #nct imagines #nct 127 smut

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tothemeadow · 4 years ago

Note

THE REQUEST ARE OPEN AGAINN!! AHHHH CONTINUATION OF PILLAR BODY SWAP THANKYOUUUU

‘switch ‘em up pt. 4′ / Pillars x Reader (now with the Kamaboko Squad!)

warnings: none

words: 2,243

(a/n): I just wanna thank the lovely anon that gave me the idea to this plotline; it helped a lot!

for reference: Giyuu/Shinobu | Gyomei/Mitsuri | Obanai/Tengen | Sanemi/Muichiro | Kyojuro/you

“I’m not sure I understand entirely,” Tanjiro confesses, his eyebrows furrowing. “So you’re looking for some special type of herb?”

“Precisely,” Shinobu says.

Overhead, birds chirp and flood the skies, hopping from branch to branch and competing each other with their harmonies. A delicate breeze sweeps through the area, carrying loose leaves and the crisp smell of nature. On any other day, you’d love to come back; however, considering the circumstances, you’d rather not be here.

After much discussion on what should be done to return everyone to their normal bodies, Shinobu voiced an idea that may work – finding a special herb and using its medicinal properties. It’s a bit of a longshot, but it’s not like anyone else has any other better idea. And whether the others voiced it or not, everyone is secretly wishing that this magical plant will bring a miracle.

As such, you and the rest of the Pillars take the trip to Mount Sagiri; Tanjiro insisted he tag along since he knows the area well, plus he wanted to help. Of course, this meant traveling with his two friends, Zenitsu and Inosuke. Truthfully, it’s quite a crowd you’re traveling with, but it should prove to be useful to have extra eyes searching for the herb.

“Giyuu knows this area as well, so it shouldn’t be too hard to find it!” Tanjiro chirps, looking to his friend. Although Giyuu is still stuck inside Shinobu’s body, he looks away, a light blush dusting his face. “Plus, Urokodaki-san should be able to help us!”

“Wait, that old man who used to be the Water Pillar?” Tengen questions.

“Don’t disrespect him,” Giyuu abruptly snaps. The muscle in his jaw ticks. “That is all I ask.”

At that, Tengen lets out a drawn-out whistle. “Damn, alright. Don’t tear my head off, waterworks.”

“Waterworks? What kind of name is that?” Sanemi speaks up. “I think you’ve been inside of Obanai for too long, Tengen. Your insults are starting to turn lame.”

“Fuck you,” Obanai mutters.

“It’s not my fault Obanai doesn’t possess a flamboyant sense of humor!”

With a sigh, you watch on as Tengen, Sanemi, and Obanai start bickering. Frankly, you don’t know why they’re even putting in the effort. Everyone is stuck in a situation that they don’t like, so what’s the point?

Beside you, Zenitsu wrings his hands, an uneasy expression crossing his features. “Uh… Kyojuro? Wait, wait, sorry – (y/n)?” You hum in response. “Are all the Pillars this… tense? Like, normally?”

“Heh. Well, not really. Sanemi’s always got a stick up his ass, and Obanai’s just naturally edgy like that,” you tell him. As you look to him, it strikes you as odd to have to look down at him. You’ve otherwise grown used to the height difference, but it still takes you aback sometimes.

Zenitsu snickers. His unease melts away, his shoulders visibly relaxing. “When you put it that way, it sounds just like that moron Inosuke.”

“Oi! Who the fuck are you calling a moron?!” Inosuke barks.

Quirking an eyebrow, Zenitsu shoots you a bored look. “See what I mean?”

“We’re here!” Tanjiro exclaims.

Having been distracted from the short conversation with Zenitsu, you’ve completely ignored your surroundings. Cursing yourself internally for being so careless, you look ahead, taking in the sight of a small home with an even smaller garden next to it. So this must be Urokodaki’s home, huh? How quaint.

“This doesn’t really look like much,” Muichiro voices. Shifting his attention to Giyuu, he cocks his head. “So this is where you were trained?”

Giyuu nods stiffly. The look on his face – Shinobu’s face – is, well, vulnerable. You haven’t seen him show so much emotion before, and it’s a bit startling. If you’re being entirely honest, it looks as though he’s ready to throw up everything that’s inside his gut.

“It’s just as I remember!” Tanjiro chirps. “It’s nice up here, don’t you think? The air gets thinner from here on up, so please be careful when scaling the mountain.”

As if on cue, the door to the house slides open, revealing an elderly man with a tengu mask adorning his face. The air about him demands respect; it’s more than obvious that this very man was a Pillar, and a strong one at that. You watch on as Tanjiro and Giyuu step up towards the house before dropping into respectful bows. Tanjiro’s movements are much more fluid, more comfortable. Giyuu’s are more… wooden.

“Tanjiro, my boy!” Urokodaki greets. Ushering Tanjiro closer, he greets the young man with a hug. “…Who’s this fine lady with you?”

Tengen laughs.

“Urokodaki-san, it’s me,” Giyuu grumbles. “Giyuu…”

Although you can’t see Urokodaki’s face, you have a pretty good idea of what it’s like. The man falls silent, glances from him to Tanjiro, then he scans over the group behind him. Sure, you can’t blame him for being skeptical; a random swarm of people showing up to your house unexpectedly is bound to raise some questions. However, these are all Pillars he’s dealing with. This isn’t something to take lightly.

“Urokodaki-san,” Tanjiro begins, “we need your help. We’re not entirely sure how, but all the Pillars switched bodies with each other. It’s been like this for a number of days now, and we don’t know how long it’s supposed to last.”

After another moment or so of silence, Urokodaki sighs and crosses his arms. “Listen, kid, that seems a bit… much, don’t you think?”

“It might be some sort of Blood Art!” Tanjiro rushes. “Please, Urokodaki-san!”

Again, another sigh. “So everyone is in another body than their own? Haven’t heard of an ability like that before, but that doesn’t mean it’s not possible.” Nodding in Shinobu’s direction, he says, “So, that’s Giyuu’s body, but it isn’t him?”

“Unfortunately, yes,” Shinobu tells him. “Believe me when I say I don’t want to be in Giyuu-san’s body more than I have to.”

“Ehhh?! What’s with all the talking!” Inosuke bursts. “You guys said you wanted to find a plant, not talk to some old coot!”

“Inosuke!” Tanjiro scolds, but he’s too late. In a blink of an eye, Giyuu practically materializes right before Inosuke, his fist colliding with Inosuke’s gut. There’s a loud groan of pain as Inosuke drops to the ground, his hands clutching onto his stomach. To the side, both Zenitsu and Tengen break out into fits of laughter.

“I told you not to disrespect him,” Giyuu grunts.

“Ohoho!” Kyojuro booms, just as loud as always. At this rate, he’s going to blow out your vocal cords before you can get them back. “How loyal, Giyuu! I’m impressed!”

Rolling your eyes, you break away from the group, opting to join Tanjiro. “Urokodaki-san,” you greet, giving a polite bow, “it’s a pleasure to meet you. Listen, I know this is a complicated situation, but we really need to find this plant. It’s crucial that we do.”

Urokodaki hums. “I know you – you’re Rengoku Shinjuro’s boy, aren’t you?”

“Huh? Well, technically – but I’m not Kyojuro. I’m (l/n) (y/n), the Wild Pillar.”

“You’re not? Figures. This whole “switched body” conundrum is making my brain work in ways it hasn’t worked in years.” Urokodaki waves a dismissive hand at you. “Whatever. If all of you are willing to look for such a plant, feel free to scale the mountain to your heart’s content. I’ll get dinner started.”

“Thank you so much!” Tanjiro chirps. After Urokodaki slides the door shut behind him, the two of you turn back to the others, smiles plastered on both of your faces. “Everyone – it’s time! Let’s turn you all back to normal!”

After hours of searching, no one has come up with anything. Granted, a vast variety of edible plants line the mountain – all of them useful in one way or another – but it’s not the dreaded silva you’re looking for. Shinobu said it was vine-like, with delicate leaves shaped like bells. The only you found worth of any interest was watching Inosuke eat almost every mushroom he could find and crack open acorns like they were nothing.

Soon, the sun began to dip below the horizon, painting the sky with hues of peach and berry. The view was simply breathtaking, and you had to stop to take it in for a few moments.

“It’s always been like that,” Giyuu says quietly. Stopping next to you, he gazes at the setting sun, a wistful gleam in his eyes. “Most of the time, we were too busy training to watch it, though.”

Now that you think about it, Giyuu has been acting weird ever since arriving. Call it intuition, but you’re almost positive that he was feeling guilty about something. And he said we instead of I, so that only confirms your suspicion. Glancing around, you imagine a younger Giyuu descending the mountain, panting like crazy in the thin air, narrowly avoiding the numerous traps Urokodaki set up. If he experienced anything like the pain roaring in your back and sides right now, you’re amazed he dared to set foot back on this very mountain.

“Thinking back to simpler times, huh?” you ask, voice soft.

Giyuu scoffs. “The training was far from simple, but yeah. Things were a lot more different then.”

As if acting on its own, your arm slings itself around Giyuu, tugging him closer and holding him against your body. With him in Shinobu’s body, he’s so small, his head nestled against your chest. At first, he tenses up, but then slowly relaxes in your hold. Ever since switching bodies, you’ve noticed Kyojuro’s personality starting to bleed into yours. Hell, even his body is trying to one up you.

“I miss him,” Giyuu whispers.

Your heart drops to your stomach at his tone. “…Who?”

“Oi! Are you two just gonna stand there or are you coming back down?” Sanemi snaps.

Muttering a curse under your breath, you pull away, but you keep a hand on Giyuu’s forearm. “You’re helping me down, got it? This mountain gives me the creeps and I don’t want to get rammed by another damned log. Seriously – how did Urokodaki-san even set them up?”

Despite the saddened glint in his eyes, Giyuu manages to crack a smile.

The inside of Urokodaki’s house is cramped, but it’s also very homely. Scattered around the living area, each person more or less sticks to themselves, too much in pain to engage in lively conversation. Shinobu treats to the wounds, making sure bones are intact and intestines didn’t take too much of a beating. The only ones completely unaffected are Tanjiro and Giyuu, but that much is obvious.

“So what now?” Mitsuri asks. Still in Gyomei’s colossal body, she’s probably one of the Pillars that’s had the most trouble adjusting to her new form. “We’re not going to give up looking, are we?”

“I didn’t think it was this rare,” Shinobu admits. “Perhaps we were looking at the wrong spots on the mountain? It’s possible.”

“Take a breather before springing back into motion,” Urokodaki says. Sitting before the hearth, he absentmindedly prepares some tea. “Think, plan, then go about your business. A mindless game of hide and seek isn’t going to produce any results.

“Mmph! Mmph!” Nezuko agrees (or you think so, anyway). You’ve only met her a handful of times outside of her box, but you enjoy her company very much.

“Wait,” Shinobu suddenly says, snapping upright. “Urokodaki-san, what’s that you’re grinding up right now?”

Setting down his mortar and pestle, Urokodaki busies his hands with plucking apart wildflowers. “It’s silva. It grows right out here in my garden.”

At that, Shinobu’s draw drops. “By the gods-“ She facepalms, then, and groans. “That’s the herb we were looking for! You’re telling me that it’s been down here the entire time?!”

“Why didn’t you say what you were looking for?” Urokodaki says. “Could’ve saved a lot of time.”

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Sanemi curses.

“That wasn’t very flamboyant of you,” Tengen chimes in. “I agree with Sanemi – this is bullshit.”

Urokodaki shrugs. “And how is that my fault? You’re all Pillars, are you not? Shame on you for being unobservant.”

“Urokodaki-san, please,” Tanjiro says.

“Alright, alright, fine.” In a couple of minutes, he prepares the tea as planned and pours it into a number of ceramic cups. “Since you’re all on my ass about it, drink up.”

“Uh, should we really be drinking this…?” Zenitsu squeaks, staring down at his own cup.

“Stop being a pussy!” Inosuke cackles. Tipping his head back, he downs his tea in one go.

Everyone more or less follows suit, taking sips of their own tea. As you set your own cup down, you feel the beginning of a warm, pleasant sensation in your lower tummy.

“Hey, Shinobu?” Tanjiro asks. “Is the herb supposed to make you feel sleepy?” At his words, Nezuko slumps to the floor. One by one, all the others drop like flies, yourself included.

Some time passes before your eyes crack back open. The inside of Urokodaki’s house is dark; from the crickets chirping and an owl hooting nearby, you quickly realize that it’s nighttime, and it’s probably late. With a groan, you sit up, dragging a hand across your face in the process. Wait… that’s not your hand, and it’s not Kyojuro’s either. Squinting through the darkness, you’re able to make out slight details, but it’s enough to make your heart sink. The herb didn’t work.

You’re in Giyuu’s body instead.

#kny #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer #kny x reader #kimetsu no yaiba x reader #demon slayer x reader #kny pillars x reader #kny hashira x reader #kny pillars #kny hashira #request

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planetsano · 5 years ago

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push and pull.

prompt: bakugou has been neglecting the reader because of work. she can't handle that because all she wants is love and attention.

warning(s): ceo!au, major sugar daddy vibes, aged up, hurt/comfort, f!reader, softie baku at the end.

pairing(s): bakugou katsuki x reader

You definitely felt like a spoiled brat. Walking around the Gucci store with a pout displayed on your glossed lips and nose held high like nothing in the vicinity was even close to being decent enough for you. Heels clicking lightly against the marbled flooring as you wandered around. This was such a drag. Your manicured finger lazily traced a handbag on a display table, it was probably worth someone's salary but you weren't interested. Your eyes were locked on the handsome blonde man pacing back and forth outside the big glass windows of the store. He was angrily speaking into the phone stopping ever so often to insult whoever was on the receiving end.

That— that stupid jerk is Bakugou Katsuki, your boyfriend, and he pinky promised to spend the day with you uninterrupted. Meaning no work calls, no emails, no boring paperwork— just you and him spending time together. He even promised to buy you that new handbag and the matching shoes you’ve been absolutely dying for but here you were in your current situation.

Recently, Bakugou has been incredibly busy with work but you couldn't exactly blame him. He was the CEO of a very successful multi-billion dollar company. But these past few weeks felt like you could never catch him not answering a business call or typing some boring email. Attempting to get one kiss from him always led you to be met with a dismissive wave of the hand as he answered the call. You knew it wasn't wise to bother him any further because he did have a temper. You’ve seen countless people on the receiving end of his rage and you didn't want to be met with it. Though it was sexy at times, you never liked upsetting him so you just left him alone. Always feeling deflated and discouraged as you opened up a tub of your favorite ice cream. Stress eating. This happened on multiple instances over the course of nearly a month. Quite frankly, you felt unwanted and it was driving you mad.

Walking around this store, there were so many beautiful and luxurious things, but your heart wasn't in it. Shopping wasn't much fun without his hand in yours giving you his opinions about how a dress or shoes would look on you, helping you zip up your dresses and sneaking naughty makeout sessions in the dressing room. Don't worry, you knew you looked pathetic. All pouty and woe as me. My rich boyfriend isn't giving me attention, life is so tough… you could laugh at yourself right now.

You missed him a lot but you were understanding… as understanding as you could be. You wondered if it was selfish to feel this nasty feeling pooling in your chest and stomach. Was it selfish to feel.. neglected? Was it selfish to want to have him all to yourself for just a day?

Was he.. losing interest in you? Was there someone else? Surely work couldn't take up that much of his time.. Did you upset him recently and didn't realize? Feelings of anxiety and nausea started to bubble up within you.. You didn't feel well at all and started to get sick to your stomach the more you got caught up in your thoughts. You wanted to leave. Now.

You hastily exited the store to find Bakugou. It looked like he was just about to come back in to find you, but you stopped him in his tracks. Almost immediately he noticed how drained you looked. Like there was something bothering you. He thought maybe some had said something rude to you but before he could react you spoke.

“Baby, can we go home? I don't feel good..” You looked up at him with a frown, your dainty hand resting on his chest.

The car ride back was quiet. Bakugou noticed your sudden change in demeanor causing him to take more than a couple glances at you in the passenger seat. Usually you'd be so bright and talkative, ushering him to sing along to whatever shitty song you had playing but you were radio silent. Maybe you actually didn't feel good? He would make ure to have his assistant buy you some medicine.

Men are so clueless..

“You ready?”

Your eyes averted their attention from your reflection to the handsome blonde casually adjusting his cufflinks behind you. He looked absolutely stunning standing there in an all black suit accompanied with a red tie. It not only complimented his eyes beautifully, but it matched your sparkly red gown as well. It almost pissed you off how he could be doing the bare minimum and still manage to look that good. But now wasn't the time to oogle. You came up with the conclusion that if he wanted to neglect you then you’d give him a dose of his own medicine. You ignored his presence and picked up your favorite highlighter and a brush, dusting your collarbones lightly to make them pop.

Bakugou walked a few steps closer and you continued to focus on your reflection in the mirror. He leaned over to plant a single kiss on the end of your shoulder, then made a trail of light and soft kisses along your shoulder blade, to the base of your neck and finally to that sensitive part of skin just below your earlobe. It took everything in you, plus more not to give in to his affections, but you desperately wanted to melt under him. You were so incredibly touch starved, especially these days. You missed him, but at the same time you were so upset with him. You couldn't just give in the moment he realizes you exist again. Fuck him. You were supposed to be angry. Not needy.

“You look fuckin’ amazing..” His voice was deep as he whispered into your ear. You closed your eyes tightly and sighed deeply, quickly getting up from your vanity stool and brushed past him, not even looking in his direction. You didn't get far before Bakugou grabbed your wrist and pulled back towards him fully closing the gap between you two and secured an arm around your waist making sure you weren't going anywhere.

God, you could feel him staring a hole into your head as you looked off to the side avoiding eye contact at all costs. You just couldn't bring yourself to look him in the eyes. You’d break.

Bakugou grabbed your face with his free hand forcing you to look at him, temporarily squishing your cheeks and making your lips go into a kissable pout. His harsh crimson gaze was locked onto your doe like eyes making you feel incredibly vulnerable and shy. You hated the power he had over you. Something as simple as eye contact making your ears and cheeks flare up in the color red. The thoughts and emotions from earlier coming back all at once threatening to make you sick all over again.

“What the fuck is your problem?” He asked bluntly, eyebrows furrowed in confusion and irritation from your behavior. He could see something was bothering you and it was pissing him off that you weren't talking to him.

“Nothing.. I promise..” You replied. “I'm happy! See?” You forced a smile on your face as Bakugou watched your bottom lip quiver and eyes water as you tried to pathetically convince him you were fine all while looking like a kicked puppy.

“You’re a shit liar. You're about to fucking cry.” Bakugou’s hand shifted to cup the side of your face. You leaned into the warmth of his hand

“Tell me what's wrong.” His voice was still blunt and expression still stern. He never wants to see you like this. Sure, you got upset or even bratty from time to time but he's never seen you in this state and it worried the fuck out of him.

“I-I.. I just-!” You struggled to find proper words to convey how you felt. His thumb rubbed your cheek gently somewhat calming you down and keeping you from hyperventilating.

“Breathe.” His voice and expression softened upon seeing you teary and vulnerable.

“I just miss you!” You blurted out. Bakugou looked down at you with his brows furrowed in confusion.

“You're so busy with work you seem to forget I exist, I don't say anything because I-I’m proud of you and I want you to be successful! I understand you're very busy but.. but is it too much to ask for thirty minutes of your time? Katsuki, I miss spending time with you-” Bakugou watched you pour out all your emotions and thoughts like word vomit.

Guilt hit him all at once like a fucking train seeing you crying because of him. He was the reason you felt like this and he wanted to punch himself in the face for not noticing how unhappy you were sooner. He did admit that work seemed to be the only thing he’s been about lately. Neglecting his love life, his friends, his family, maybe even his own health. Even holding you this close made him realize that he hasn't been.. this close in proximity to you in a while. He fucked up.

“I-Is there someone else? Is that it? My hair.. I can change it if you'd like. Do you still love me? I-” That was the final straw for him. He cut you off with a swift kiss to the lips. It surprised you but you almost immediately moved your lips into sync with his. The kiss was sloppy and too many emotions fueled it, but the most prevalent one was want.

Bakugou’s heart ached hearing your words. Of course he still loved you. Everything about you was perfect in every way, there was no way on Earth he would lose you over some random extra that probably only wanted him for his money and last name. The fact that you were so.. willing to change for him to make him happy because you were so in love seemed so... wrong. He thought that if anything he should be the one trying to make you happy. He couldn't give a fuck whether your hair was long or short, curly or straight, he loved you regardless. Your appearance was never a factor in his feelings for you. Only a bonus.

He pulled away from your lips suddenly and looked at you. Your eyes were puffy, mascara was running and your lipstick was smeared but you still looked beautiful. It was a look he particularly liked but, it was not under these circumstances. You were usually on your knees.

“Don't say stupid things like that.” Bakugou started.

“..I'm so shit at relationships..” He struggled with his words and you could see it in his face. He wasn't ever one to express how he felt.

“‘m sorry for treating you like a fucking stranger.. you know I love you. No one else could even hold a fucking candle to you, that shouldn't even be a thought in this pretty fucking head of yours.” He sighed.

“I don't fucking care about how your hair looks.. I only care about you.” He finished.

Your crying stopped at some point when he was speaking and you were only met with soft hiccups. Bakugou wiped the final few tears from your cheeks and left a kiss on your forehead.

“Stop crying over me. I'm not worth it.” He whispered against your skin. For some reason his words shocked you. Not worth it? You thought was worth all your tears plus more, what was he on about? Did he really think he wasn't good enough for you?

“You don't say stupid things like that either. You're worth all the good things in the world.” You said softly. Bakugou’s heart fluttered at your words and he almost felt himself blush. There was a comfortable silence before you spoke up again.

“Oh no,” You looked at the time. “We're going to be late to the event and I look atrocious” You looked up at him with a pout.

“Fuck it. They'll be fine without us. Those bastards are annoying as hell anyway.. Let's get dinner, yeah? You can pick where we go.” Bakugou proposed and you smiled.

“Let's go.” You stood on your tippy toes and planted a kiss on his lips.

a/n: I hope you guys enjoyed this! For only 2k+ words I feel like I took forever to write this. I just wanted it to be up to standard.. feedback would be amazing. Also, my requests are open! Thank you for 100 followers! ❤️

#bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou katsuki #bakugou imagines #bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki imagine #my hero academia #my hero academia x reader #my hero academia imagines #bnha #bnha x reader #bnha bakugou

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dilly-oh · 4 years ago

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Laundry Day

It had been building for weeks now. Piling up, bit by bit. Iruka ignored it for as long as he could, shoving it to the back of his mind and going about his daily business, teaching at the Academy and pulling shifts at the Mission Desk like nothing was wrong. But eventually, even he could deny it no longer. When he checked his closet and found that all he had to wear was a single ketchup-or-maybe-blood-stained crop-top, tight yoga shorts, and flip-flops, he knew it was finally time to stop putting it off. There was no other choice left.

He had to do laundry.

“Oh my God, who did you kill?” Anko asked as he dragged the bulging laundry bag down the hallway of his apartment complex.

“You, if you don't back off,” Iruka snapped at her. “There's just enough room in here for a body.”

“I sincerely doubt that,” Anko said, cocking an eyebrow at the huge bag. “Seriously, what gives? That thing must be, like, a hundred pounds. Is this some kind of new training craze?”

“It's laundry day,” Iruka stated. Anko blinked. “I haven't done laundry in two months,” he went on impatiently. “It's kind of hard to find the time between my job teaching, my job at the Mission Desk, and my other job keeping Naruto and Sasuke from killing or kissing each other in public, and since they all count as full-time jobs with none of the benefits, I literally have nothing else to wear.”

“Ah. That would explain the booty shorts.”

“They're called yoga shorts, and they're comfortable.”

“I don't care what they're called, your ass looks amazing in them.”

“Stop ogling me!” Iruka barked, his cheeks flaming. Anko's eyes didn't move. “Am I gonna have to go have another talk with HR?” Anko paled.

“Oh, God, please don't. Last time I had to watch a three-hour film on sexual harassment in the workplace. I had to take notes. There was a quiz after.”

“Then stop. STARING.” Iruka gave Anko one last glare, then continued on his way, dragging his laundry bag after him with all the dignity he could muster. Which wasn't alot, considering the bag was heavy as fuck and he'd kinda been neglecting his standard workout routine. Because, you know, three jobs or whatever.

There were quite a few laundromats scattered about Konoha, all stocked with specialized, heavy-duty cleaning supplies for shinobi needs (to aid in the removal of blood, guts, and other icky bits picked up from slaughtering enemies and whatnot). The one Iruka usually frequented was located about ten blocks away, which normally wasn't too bad, especially if Iruka went by rooftop. However, that was quite impossible at the moment, considering his giant bag of dirty clothes was hefty and ungainly enough that it would probably squirt right out of his arms and kill an unfortunate pedestrian below. Also, it was the middle of summer and the sun had decided to be an asshole that day, blazing down like some kind of fire Jutsu and scalding every living thing in sight. To make matters worse, the laundry bag seemed to grow heavier with every step until it was like dragging Hokage mountain down the street. So by the time Iruka finally managed to heave the bag halfway across Konoha and up a flight of stairs into the laundromat itself, he was a hot, sweaty mess, his ponytail half-undone and hanging in his face, damp clothing sticking to his skin.

Which was exactly why Hatake motherfucking Kakashi was in there, of fucking course. There was no way Iruka's silly little crush wouldn't be in the one place he'd hoped he wouldn't be.

Iruka wanted to crawl into the nearest drier and turn it on.

Maybe he won't see me, he thought as he quietly slipped inside.

“Hey, Iruka!” Kotetsu shouted from across the entire laundromat. “Nice shorts!”

Everyone immediately turned to look.

Well I know who I'm going to kill now, Iruka thought to himself miserably as he was ogled by every shinobi in the room. He made a mental checklist and vowed to prank each one in retaliation. His body was a temple.

“You know you could have just stuffed that in a scroll,” Genma said after peeling his gaze off Iruka's thighs, twitching his senbon at the bulging bag.

“I'll stuff you in a fucking scroll,” Iruka hissed at him, wiping a sweaty strand of hair out of his face.

“Ooh, baby, talk dirty to me,” Genma cooed.

“You're disgusting,” Iruka said flatly. He glanced around, looking for a table with any inch of free space, perfectly willing to fight someone for it. There, in the back, he spotted one last table...right next to Kakashi. Because, you know, this day couldn't get any worse. Iruka debated waiting an extra ten minutes or so to see if the laundromat emptied out a bit, saw Genma wiggle his eyebrows suggestively at him, and decided anything was better than this. Steeling himself with a deep breath, he dragged his bag over to the open table beside Kakashi and started dumping clothes out.

Kakashi, thankfully, didn't respond to his sudden arrival except for a polite grunt and nod in greeting. Iruka nodded back, then focused for the next several minutes on organizing his dirty clothes, intent on ending this humiliation as quickly as possible. As he worked, he couldn't help but sneak glances at Kakashi while he sorted his lights and darks. The man was busy folding his own laundry, bent over the table, his movements precise and methodical, done with the utmost care. Iruka almost suspected he was using the Sharingan to achieve such perfect folds. He glanced down at the clothes themselves, expecting combat fatigues or maybe a pair of well-worn sweats.

Instead, he was surprised to discover Kakashi was folding almost two dozen miniature flak jackets with some kind of funny emblem on the back.

“Did...did you accidentally shrink that in the drier or something?” Iruka blurted out before he could stop himself. Kakashi looked over at him, blinking lazily, then chuckled, a husky sound that made Iruka's knees weak.

“Of course not,” he said, his voice warm with amusement. “This is my ninken's laundry.”

Iruka had to hold in a snort. The famed Copy-Nin of Konoha, scourge of all enemies, feared by missing-nin, doing his ninken's laundry? It was ridiculous! It was absurd! It was...

Adorable, quite frankly. Iruka's heart melted a little at the sight of him carefully piling up their little vests, careful not to crease them.

“It's a pain,” Kakashi went on. “They're so picky. I have to use unscented detergent and dryer sheets or they complain.”

“Too bad they don't sell a fresh cat-shit scent,” Iruka chuckled awkwardly before biting his lip.

Kakashi, however, took no offense, throwing his head back and laughing aloud.

“Ha! They'd like that! Maybe they have a three-day-old steak one, too.” He grinned at Iruka through his mask, one visible eye twinkling. Iruka flushed, and he quickly turned back to his laundry, realized he was holding a pair of underwear, and flung it away, his face flushing darker as he busied himself with sorting again. “You've got quite a load,” Kakashi went on after a moment, nodding at the mountainous pile in front of him.

“Yeah, I've been putting it off for a while,” Iruka grumbled distractedly, searching for a stray sock's missing partner with no luck. “This is literally the last thing I have to wear, so I either do laundry today or go into work tomorrow naked.”

“I knew I should have finished that mission report,” Kakashi said under his breath.

“Very funny,” Iruka scoffed in annoyance, shoving his first few loads into the nearby washing machines.

“Oh, I'm dead serious.”

The annoyance turned to anger, and Iruka looked over at the other man to give him a piece of his mind, only to find him staring right back, his warm grin having grown into something much more inviting, bordering on flirtatious. Iruka's sharp comment died in his throat and he cleared it roughly, feeling hot all over. Awkwardly, he reached for change in his pockets, then froze. He looked down and swore. He didn't even fucking have pockets. Stupid booty- YOGA shorts. He'd forgotten the quarters, and he didn't dare leave his clothes unattended for fear someone like Genma would be a creep and steal a pair of underwear or something. Also, Izumo and Kotetsu had a habit of borrowing things and never returning them, and he could see them eyeing several of his favorite shirts from across the laundromat. He'd just have to pack everything up and return home. What a waste, the whole trip had been for nothing-

The clink of coins snapped him out of his mental cursing, and he looked up in shock to see Kakashi paying for his loads.

“Oh no,” he sputtered, “please, Kakashi, you don't have to-”

“It's fine. You can pay next time,” Kakashi said with a wave.

“But I...well...oh, alright, fine.” Iruka sighed, giving in. “Thank you.”

“So it's a date then,” Kakashi said. “Which cycle do you prefer?”

“Cotton cycle, cold water, extra rinse, please,” Iruka said automatically, then blinked. “Wait, I'm sorry, did you say-”

“See you next week,” Kakashi was already halfway to the door, his ninken's clothes tucked under his arms and a pile of quarters left on Iruka's table for the rest of his loads. Iruka gaped after him in shock.

Had that...really just happened? Had he really exchanged pleasantries with one of the most infamous shinobi of Konoha while folding laundry? Or had it all been merely a dream, a figment of his imagination-

“You washing those shorts, too?” Genma asked hopefully, leering like a hungry wolf.

Nope, he was definitely awake. Iruka threw some Tide-pods at Genma to chase him away before turning back to his loads, shaking his head in wonder.

He'd definitely be doing his laundry more often from now on.

(Written for @kakairu-fest KakaIru Month 2021, Day Ten Prompt: Laundry)

#kakairu #KakaIru Month 2021 #naruto #hatake kakashi #umino iruka #laundry #laundromats #but seriously how else does Kakashi clean them little vests #i want answers

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jungle321jungle · 4 years ago

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Slither Into My Heart (Gorgon AU): Part Seven

Deceit didn’t bother to knock as he slammed the door open and glared down to wear Remus sat on his bed polishing his morning star.

“What did you do?” Deceit hissed.

Remus gave him a large smile as he looked him up or down, “Do you have the snakes just up there or are they down below too?”

If asked by Patton later, Deceit most definitely did not try to strangle the other side in that moment. Not all.

Also known as: Deceit is turned into a Gorgon. And the new annoying little snakes on his head seem to have an annoying obsession with Virgil.

Ao3 - Masterlist

Part One

Part Seven

Dee wasn’t sure he had ever moved faster, but just like that he was in his room slamming the door and standing behind it. His initial instinct upon hearing Logan’s words was to throttle the other side- but then he had seen Virgil’s embarrassed- Virgil’s blushing face and he had run- he had sprinted.

His face felt hot, and his heart drumming in his ears was drowning out whatever the hell the snakes were saying. God why the hell had Logan even fucking dared. That wasn't his place! When he got the courage to leave his room he was going to-

“Dee?”

Virgil’s voice may have well been ice in Dee’s veins the way he froze. But he also didn't respond, so a knock sounded at the door. “Dee?” he asked again. “Um, I... um... I yelled at Logan for you. Um, and about um...” He heard as Virgil gave a cough. “If you want to talk then yeah. If not I’ll just go.”

Bad Logan. Nice Vee. Vee not mad! Logan mean. Talk Vee. No talk Vee. Hide. Hide good. Talk good. Talk bad.

He wasn’t sure when he had fallen asleep- he wasn’t even sure he remembered dragging himself on his bed, but he did remember waking up. He was sitting up gasping for air, tears burning in his eyes. He swallowed trying to calm himself down but unable to he forced himself to get up and walk to the kitchen. He ignored the gazes of everyone who watched him pass in favor for filling a cup with water and downing it.

“Everything alright Deceit?” Patton asked slowly.

“Fine,” he breathed out refilling his cup.

“Talking may help, kiddo.”

“I don't-”

Talk. Talk good. Maybe help. No nightmares. Help. Talk.

He gave a sigh and after a pause he turned- taking in the fact that Patton, Logan and Remus (aka not Virgil) were sitting at the table before he joined them.

“Deceit,” Logan coughed awkwardly. “Firstly I’d like to apologize for earlier. It’s come to my attention that I shouldn't have overstepped my bounds.”

Dee shook his head, “I really don't want to talk about that right now.”

“What’s up with the snakes?” Remus asked leaning back in his chair. “Are the little devils refusing to be trained in dance?”

Dee didn’t even want to ask. So instead, he told the truth. “I... I haven’t been sleeping. I’ve been having nightmares about my snakes. I thought I had finally gotten used to them and then the shedding happened, and other things which just make it seem stranger and stranger but also forcing me to realize that I’m who I am now... a gorgon. But um... I can't help but wonder and worry about how far that goes...”

“What do you mean?” Logan pressed.

Dee gave a swallow before he let his eyes fall to the table, “I... I keep have nightmares about accidentally turning you all to stone.”

“That would be pretty sick, not gonna lie.” Dee’s head snapped up to see as Virgil walked in the kitchen. “Sorry, I’m not helping am I?”

“Oh! Maybe Remus can set rules for them,” Patton suggested. “He made the connection for Thomas after all.”

“I don't think so,” Logan mused. “The connection was initially made with him and medusa after all... the connection would need to be made with a different gorgon I assume. But that may threaten the snakes themselves.”

No like rules. Rules bad. Want stay. But stone bad! No stone! No want!

The conversation was continuing around him but his focus was primarily on Virgil. Because Virgil seemed to have been functioning as if yesterday had never happened. And Janus wasn’t entirely sure if that was a good or bad thing.

“Don’t worry Dee!” Patton said loudly while clapping him on the shoulder. “Remus will take care of it.”

Dee paused to look at Remus’ smile before he pushed the hand away and stood, “I don’t know how trusting Remus with anything is supposed to make me feel better. I’m going back to my room.”

~~~~

He slept in short bursts. Falling asleep for five minutes awake for ten, and then asleep for ten and awake for five. It wasn’t anything more than exhausting, but it was how Dee was apparently going to spend the day. He had resigned himself to that. And it seemed the snakes agreed. Their usual buzzing conversations were at a minimum or nonexistent all together. Rather they seemed to be just as exhausted and out of it as he was.

Dee held in a sigh. He wished he could bring them some peace at least. His nightmares were about them turning people to stone after all, there was no way they were in a good place. But he wasn’t sure what to say. Unsure what else to do he reached a hand up to his head and felt as the snakes moved to rub against his hand.

Hand warm. Pets! Want pets. Hand warm. Hand keep.

Dee gave a slight chuckle despite himself, “You can’t keep my hand. If you’re cold just say so.”

Cold. Not cold. Yes cold!

Dee rolled his eyes as he slowly sat up, “Do you guys want me to lay on a blanket or do you want to be in a hat?”

Their answer however wasn’t heard as a soft knock sounded on his door. But when he didn’t respond it came again, this time with Virgil’s voice. “Dee? Can I come in?”

Dee gave a sigh, as if he could say no, but to avoid looking Virgil in the eye he moved to the closet to find an extra blanket. “Sure.”

He heard the door open slowly followed by the sound of unsure footsteps and the door closing.

There! Blanket. Cozy! Warm. Want cozy!

“There’s only one blanket in here I can figure it out without the peanut gallery.”

“Sorry for interrupting,” Virgil said from behind him.

Dee took a deep breath as he grabbed the blanket and turned around. Virgil was standing in his doorway looking around as if he had never been in the room before. But more interestingly he had something behind his back.

“What did you need?” He asked awkwardly as he wrapped the blanket around his head.

“Um... I-I had an idea to help with your nightmares,” Virgil started his gaze now firmly fixed on the floor. “But it’s a bit childish.”

“What do you mean?”

Virgil gave an awkward swallow before he pulled something from behind his back and held it out. But quite frankly Dee had no clue what it was. It seemed to be a large hamster pillow with a long nose like an elephant.

“It’s a baku,” Virgil explained. “Its um a Japanese mythological creature that’s supposed to eat bad dreams. I um, I’ve had it for a long time and maybe it sounds childish and cheesy but um... if there’s a small chance it could help? And if it doesn’t if it helps we are part of Thomas so I don’t think you can turn us to stone. But I guess there’s still a chance- but I’m not scared um... just- just take the baku if you want. Not that you have to of course.”

Dee paused before he took the pillow, “Thank...thank you.”

Virgil gave a sharp nod as he turned away. “When you’re feeling better I, I wanted to talk to you about something else so um. Good night.”

“Night.”

As Virgil left Dee laid down and held the pillow in hands as he examined it. As he did so he couldn’t exactly stop the slight blush on his cheeks.

~~~~

“Dee! You’re not dead!”

“Obviously I’m not dead.”

“It’s been almost two days!” Patton protested squeezing him tighter.

“I was sleeping,” Dee told him, pushing him away. “And now I’m hungry.”

“You slept well then?” Virgil asked.

“Yeah... thanks.”

Thank Vee! Yay vee! No bad sleep!

“No problem.”

Dee made himself a plate and sat down at the table, “So um... you wanted to talk about something?”

Virgil gave a nod, “Yeah. Um... firstly, Patton can you uh?”

Patton cocked his head slightly in confusion before he seemed to understand and nodded quickly, “Oh uh I’ll be right back! I just remembered I have to... to uh... uh... make the bed!”

When he had left Virgil gave a soft sigh, “So um, about the other day. And what Logan said...”

Oh no. Oh no. Oh no!

Dee felt his face heat up and he was standing before he knew he was, “We can just pretend that never happened! Let’s just go back to normal, okay?”

Virgil’s head fell so his face couldn’t be seen. “But I... I don’t want to.”

“W-what?”

Virgil’s head lifted up slightly and Dee’s heart skipped a beat at the blush on the other side’s face. “I... Shit you’re really gonna make me say it? I... I like you Dee...”

For one of the first times in his existence, Dee was speechless. Truly speechless. Even the snakes were silent.

Virgil was giving him a slight glare, “Say something!”

“When’s the wedding?” Roman called from the next room.

“Fuck off!” Dee and Virgil yelled back as one.

As Roman cackled Dee sunk back into his seat and looked across from him at Virgil. “I like you too.”

Virgil gave a slight laugh, “Yeah I already figured that out.”

“Right...”

A weight fell from his shoulders, and Dee couldn’t help but give a sigh of relief.

Yes. Yes. Vee! Vee like! Vee like!

Yeah... Virgil liked him. It didn’t really make sense that Virgil did, but Dee wouldn’t exactly complain. “I don’t really know what happens now,” he admitted.

Virgil gave a shrug, “Me neither.”

Before Dee could respond, Roman walked in the room his eyes sparkling, “If you guys are looking for date ideas then I have a whole list that we can test before we send Thomas on one.”

“We just-”

“It’s in my room I’ll be right back!”

Ooo. Date! Need fancy clothes. Dates fun? Yes, fun! Spend time with Vee!

Dee rolled his eyes, “Want to move into the living room? I feel like this is gonna take awhile.”

“Or, we could always just go elsewhere before he comes back.”

“Anywhere in mind?”

“I found it!” Roman’s voice called.

“Does it matter?” Virgil asked heading into the hall.

Dee didn’t answer, rather he grabbed Virgil’s hand and reveled in Virgil’s blush as he let himself be pulled down the hall to who knows where. Because it didn’t matter where they were going, because if Virgil was going to he knew he'd be happy.

~~The End~~

Thanks for sticking around!

#this fic was meant to be crack wtf happened #Gorgon AU #gorgon!deceit #Janus Sanders #anxceit #virgil sanders #shameless anxceit

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urmomsmainbitch · 3 years ago

Text

american idiot - chapter one

link to wattpad story // link to series masterlist // link to writing

word count: 2.7k

warnings: the bowers gang, weapons, violence, basically the whole thing (if you're not comfortable with violence or abuse -- which henry faces during the movies and during the book -- then i recommend you don't read, but i'll try to tag appropriately!)

a/n: i hope you don't think it's ass but this is probably going to come out every other friday or so but this is more of a trailer than the start of the actual series

HENRY DIDN'T REMEMBER a better time in his life than when he heard the news that Tommy 'Gun' Lee was coming back to Derry for the summer. To him, nothing topped the moment where is dad was slurring over his dinner (leftover hot dogs -- again), and let it slip that the "ungrateful little bitch" was coming back for a few months over the summer, and that "your whore of a mother" didn't mention if she was staying for the year or not.

He remembered huffing and puffing, grumbling something under his breath before excusing himself, and running to call Patrick like it was fucking Christmas morning.

Something about his darling little sister coming back made his heart race and a smile light up his face, and it was evident from the way he stepped into Derry Middle on the last day of school.

Oh, this summer would be perfect! His deal with Denbrough was over, the gang was all together, and his perfect sister was coming back from San Diego for the summer. Tommy Lee Bowers, he knew, would make this the best summer he;d ever had -- and by fucking God, he wasn't going to let anything stand in his way. Not that stuttering freak or the stupid Tozier kid who's mouth ran a mile a minute or his father's thriving alcohol addiction -- absolutely nothing.

His Tommy Gun would rule that fucking school the second she stepped in to pick him up, and every one knew it.

Word travels fast at Derry Middle, and when it got around that Bowers had a little sister coming, the first thing Bill Denbrough did was panic.

She couldn't be too different, could she?

The same blood ran through their veins, the same color skin on their bones, and most likely, the permanently upturned smirk tattooed to their lips. His hopes didn't improve when he saw the girl himself, waiting outside on the hood of Butch's car, throwing rocks at little kids passing by as she sat patiently for Henry to come outside.

He'd promised her a tour of the school -- it's only fair, he put it, that a queen knows her kingdom before taking it over. Henry had no doubt that Tommy would run the school when it was her time in September. A grade below Tits and the rest of his ugly friends, it would be more embarrassing than anything else to watch them suffer socially at the hands of a twelve year old girl.

(Henry very much looked forward to that moment. So much so, in fact, that he near goddamn skipped his way to the front of the school to open the door so they could start the tour. It helped that he was getting out of math class.)

It was only in the few moments before she walked in the door (immediately claiming the whole goddamn building with a footstep) that Bowers caught him by the bag and dragged him into the bathroom, away from the rest of the kids, and most likely, where he'd lay dying for the rest of the school day and foreseeable future (Stanley refused to shit in the school bathrooms, and seeing as he was the only one on this side of the building, he was screwed.).

Bill had never liked being alone with Henry Bowers. Nothing good ever came out of it, and he didn't want to stick around this time to find out why he'd been pulled into a bathroom and away from the rest of the student population. Henry let go of Bill's bag, letting him stumble around for a second or two before straightening up and backing him up against the wall.

"W-what d-d-do you w-want, B-Bowers?" Bill nearly spat, looking the older boy in the eyes. Henry's permanent smirk seemed to grow a few inches on either side, because he just chuckled softly -- albeit cruelly -- and looked down at the Denbrough boy. Bill could smell his breath, even though the two weren't standing particularly close to one another.

"Well, B-b-billy," he mocked, nearly laughing as he relaxed his posture a little bit and backed away from him. (Any one is passing who didn't know them might have said, "Hey, I bet those two boys are damn good friends.") "I have some news for you and your group of stupid fucking friends, and let me tell you" -- Henry stopped to laugh for a second, like he was cracking himself up -- "it's going to make your life a living hell."

Bill gulped. He didn't think, realistically, it could get much worse.

"You got a free ride this year because of your little brother," Henry reminded, smiling a little bit, seeming genuine. "But the ride's over Denbrough. This summer is going to be the worst summer of your entire life."

(Bill didn't expect him to say anything else -- but honestly, every summer was the worst summer of his entire life. He didn't catch a break from the older boy and his group of goons, but there was a feeling down in the pits of his stomach that told him that this time, this time, for real, was going to be the worst summer vacation he's ever going to have as long as he lives.)

"But I do have a little piece of extra advice I'm gonna give you."

Bill huffed. "You're so generous," he started, rolling his eyes, as he tried to walk out of the bathroom. Henry grabbed onto his backpack, "but I think I'll have to pass with this one."

He was cut off as Bowers kicked him on shin and onto the cold bathroom tiles. So much for being brave.

"I think you might want to hear this." Henry squatted down to look Bill in the eyes. There was still a hint of a smile on his face. Boy, this is gonna be good. "If you think I'm a pain in your ass--"

"I d-do think you're a p-pain in m-my a-ass."

Henry paused for a second, sending a menacing smile, and pushed him back on the ground as he got up and stepped over the boy on the floor, before beginning to make his way out of the bathroom before looking back, before lending Bill a hand to get up. He hesitantly took it and brushed off his pants, lips pressed tightly together as he looked at Henry. "Then you're gonna hate the girl sitting on Belch's car."

"Why's that?" Bill asked, feigning confidence, already knowing the answer. Henry could tell, just exhaling and giving him a big mischievous smile, hands behind his back.

"Not important, but she's not gonna be as nice as I am," he said with a grin, "but I'm just looking out for you, Billy Boy. Wouldn't want Tommy Gun to whip your ass without some working, right?"

With that, Henry left the bathroom, a smile plastered on his face as he went to greet his sister, and Bill raced out of there like his ass was on fire -- warning Richie not to talk to or about the pretty girl sitting on Belch's car.

-- -- --

"Best feeling ever!" Stan groaned, grinning ear to ear as he dumped out everything from his backpack. School had finally let out for the summer — no more stupid math classes or dumb reading assignments and annoying history tests, just Stanley and his bird book for three whole months.

A piece of his own personal heaven. Points if the pretty girl on Belch's hood was with him but hey, he wasn't picky.

"Really?" Richie asked with a grin on his face, "Try tickling your pickle for the first time." Eddie rolled his eyes, but Bill smiled. Stan let out another groan -- not a good one, this time -- even though, if he had to be honest, this seemed like it would be the best summer of his whole entire life.

Richie felt it too, if he were going to tell the truth (as he so rarely did -- or at times, so bluntly did), that this felt like it was going to the be the absolutely best summer he would have for the rest of his life. He had a whole checklist and everything for things he wanted to do (kiss some girls), things he wanted to see (some girls' boobs), and things he wanted to experience (there were a number of interesting things on this list).

And quite frankly, he felt as though every single thing on every one of his lists could be accomplished with the girl sitting on Belch Huggins' car hood, smiling mischievously as she watched the kids coming out of school.

God, did she really and truly look like an angel. Deep brown hair, straight in some parts and wavy in others, came down a little bit past her collarbone (not super cared for, but neither was his), cherry red lips, and a cute line of freckles going across the bridge of her nose. She was the most impressive tan he'd ever seen in his whole life, a very deep beige from the summer sun — even though it was only June.

The top part was being held up by some clip, and Richie could see his own Hawaiian shirt going over her tank top instead of the open button down she was wearing on top. It was lazy looking and careless and little bit disheveled, but that day, Richard Wentworth Tozier II was convinced he saw the hottest girl to ever be created.

Eddie interrupted his dream, snapping him back for only a second. "So what do you guys want to do tomorrow?"

"I start my training," Richie responded immediately.

"Training for what?"

"Street Fighter."

"You're going to spend your whole summer inside of an arcade?" Eddie couldn't imagine that prospect, but with Richie, anything was possibly -- no matter how disgusting it might seem.

"Beats spending it inside of your mother, oh!" Richie's goofy grin came back in an instant and leaned over for a high five from Bill when his hand was brought down by Stan. "And, 'course, my summer bucket list."

Eddie sent him a pity glance, "No girl's gonna let you fuck her this summer, Richie. If they have any brains at all, no girl is going to let you go within a ten foot radius of her without realizing what she's doing." Richie pressed his lips together. Of course Eddie would be cynical, it's just because — "and don't tell me that I think it because I just haven't hit puberty yet!"

Richie gave him a toothy grin, "Aw, shucks, Eddie Spaghetti, you know me so well. When you see a pretty girl, like say, that one over there—" he pointed discreetly towards the girl on the hood —"you'll get that feeling of butterflies in your stomach and just think, 'Wow, I've just seen an angel.' I don't mean Bowers, I just-"

"Yeah, you mean his little sister." Eddie looked up to Richie for a response, only to see him at a loss for words, jaw dropping and face paling.

For once, Richie Tozier was speechless as Eddie laughed and slapped his back as Bill mentioned something about the Barrens and Georgie and finding him — even though everybody had long accepted the fact that Georgie wasn't just missing.

It was like a switch. Everything changed in that instant. It was like she grew fangs and claws, and he watched Patrick look at her like she hung the fucking moon. It was incredibly painful, but he assumed, in a sense, they deserved each other. It took a second before he realized what this would actually mean for him: having to worry about a double in the hallways — a hot double that could potentially fool him into forgetting her Bowers-ness — and someone else to make fun of him in ways that he'd never tjough imaginable.

Sure, Bowers wasn't awfully bright, but he sure as hell was creative when it came down to it.

"Gunner!" Richie heard Bowers (the boy one) laugh as she shoved him in the side, cackling along herself, cigarette never leaving her mouth — opting just to talk out of the side of it.

Oh, so her name must have been Gunner. That's unfortunate, he thought to himself. But then again, she seems awful, so maybe she just deserves it. He smiled to himself. "Tommy Lee, we've gotta start heading out soon."

Wait, so was it Tommy Lee? Or was it Gunner? Was that just the gang's nickname for her? More importantly, if it was, why the fuck would they choose a name like Gunner for her? Nothing was settling about that fact, and although Richie wasn't typically one to spiral, it was hard to control himself.

"You didn't tell me you had friends, Henny!" Tommy exclaimed girlishly, making Patrick spit out his sofa and slam his hand on the car hood, flicking out her cigarette and letting Patrick snuff it out. She put a hand on her heart. "Oh, you've grown up so fast! I remember it was just yesterday you took a massive shit in that kids backpack and had to do forty hours of community service!"

Richie could tolerate a lot of things. One thing he couldn't tolerate though, was not being able to chime in when his story was being used and told all wrong — or mentioned without his name. Luckily, he was spared his intervention by a howling Belch Huggins.

"It was four eyes!" Huggins nearly screamed, warning a howling laugh from Tommy and shove from Victor, followed by a point led by Patrick. "Yeah, him!"

Richie could feel his face heating up, but before he could say anything, the bright blue TransAM was firing up the engine, and was getting ready to peel out of the school parking lot like a man man was driving.

Bill was the first to say anything. "Sorry about that, Rich. Bowers is a real asshole."

"So is his sister," he made out through his teeth.

Richie saw himself as a 'go with the flow' kind of guy, but goddamn it, he wasn't going to let Tommy Lee shit all over him and get away with it.

He was too stubborn, too arrogant, and too proud to let that happen, but with only a second or two of knowing she existed, he knew she was the exact same way. He could get tell it with the way she walked and talker and immediately took control of some of the scariest kids in Derry Middle.

But she wouldn't come out on top of this one.

There's no way. He refused to let it happen. Letting her win would show everyone else that he was just a loser who couldn't stand up to a girl who's was going to beat the living daylights out of him if he looked at her the wrong way.

She already had Henry and Patrick and Belch on her side — an even, if not better, match to four decently sized seventh graders. There was no excuse for them to get beat.

Grinding his teeth and tearing his eyes away from her, laughing mischievous and almost secretly as she put her cigarette out on Belch's hood as not to be noticed by he coo around the corner (Rich didn't know that the cop around the corner was her father who would beat her till she couldn't stand if he caught her smoking) he said, "So, Barrens tomorrow, right Bill?"

And right as Tommy Lee Bowers and her newfound gang pulled out of the parking lot, she and Richie Tozier locked eyes and made a silent pact — an agreement — something they both agreed on — something he'd be thinking about all night and the whole next morning:

Derry is two small for the two of us.

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imagine-that-one-thing · 4 years ago

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Her Majesty || 18

Queen

April 15th

Morning discovered me hours ago when Harry's alarm trumpeted through the room, and he forced himself out of bed. Since four o'clock this morning, I have been in and out of sleep. If I am honest, I don't want to take on the day. I have been dreading this day for years, and quite frankly, have been praying it would never come – but I was ill-prepared for how quickly it snuck up on me. But here I am, on the warm side of my bed, longing for my past self as Princess Anastasia but having to remind myself of my new title as Queen.

"What is the Queen going to do on her first day as Queen? What's the first order?" Harry softly requests, and I raise my brow as I convene up against the pillows and cock my head to the side.

I want to spend my day in bed and wrap my head around things.

"What is the King's first order?" I respond with a hint of sarcasm laced to my tone.

Harry elevates his beverage to his lips and shrugs, "I am on my third coffee, and my duties are to keep the palace safe, the same as any other day," Harry responds, not appearing to be phased by the fact that he has a title.

"You do realise that even by telling everyone that I would be king, I cannot be King, Anna."

"You do realise that I make the rules, right?"

Harry laments, "A King has a higher power over Queen. Therefore, I do not have the right to be over you, Anastasia. Therefore, I cannot be titled, King."

I roll my eyes, "We can have this conversation later. I am going back to sleep."

"No, you are not," Harry returns as I settle into the bed and draw the blankets to shelter around my body. "Anastasia, you have a strict itinerary that you have to stick to, which means your ladies will be up here in ten minutes."

I stare at Harry and groan, "Did I forget to ask to sleep in?" I could have sworn that being Queen didn't come with an obligation to be awake at the crack of dawn.

"Well, I did ask the bagpipes from a piper just below the terrace to be put on hold until seven, darling," Harry notifies me.

"And what time is it now?" I request.

Harry smirks, and I moan as he glances at his watch before flicking his eyes towards me. That damn smirk gives it away.

I wait a few moments, and the bagpipes commence their morning routine. Every morning at around six, I am awakened by the Piper's sounds to the Sovereign if I am not already awake. My father resented it, but he kept it around, not only because it is part of the Royal arrangements but because my mother appeared to love the morning wake up calls. Most of the wakeup sequences were at six, but my father extended it to nine in certain months. Of course, it depended on what was transpiring in the royal world.

The Piper's principal responsibility is to play every weekday at six or nine am for approximately 15 minutes under His Majesty's window when he is in residence at Buckingham Palace. Now that I am Her Majesty, they play for me, under my terrace. I don't want to remove the pipers, essentially because it is a tradition, but I will be damned to be woken up every morning with them under my terrace at six in the morning.

"Thanks for the hour," I sigh, rubbing my eyes. "Can you please request that the time is changed from six? I prefer not to hear them until at least ten, perhaps eleven?" I softly beam, doing my ablest to appreciate the art of the bagpipes.

Harry steps closer and hands me his coffee before leaning down and kissing my cheek, "I don't think they will appreciate playing so late."

"Nine?" I suggest, "I think that is fair."

"I think that is fair," Harry nods his head, and I take a few sips of his warm coffee.

"Could you make this any stronger?" I chuckle, taken back by the intensity of his coffee.

Harry shrugs his shoulder, "At least I didn't add bourbon to it this morning," Harry sarcastically smiles.

I hand Harry his coffee back with another stifled laugh escaping my lips. I know that he adds a little alcohol to his coffee some days towards the ends of his shifts, especially if they have been excessive and problematic. "What do you have today?" I softly ask while we have a few extra minutes alone.

Harry steps away from the bed and tells me what he has planned for his day. My head cocks to the side as he stands in front of me, everything about him causing me to smile and swoon over him.

Harry is incredibly handsome and never fails to find me between shifts to give me a few minutes of his short time. This man with dewy, mist valley-green eyes, lush hair he grooms so carefully that has a rippling quality, is a man that I thank the heavens for every day. The last few months have been horrible and heartbreaking, there are still days where I have no clue how the fuck I am going to survive the journey without my father, but Harry always makes sure to make it known that he is right beside me through everything.

Harry is a man that holds my heart in his golden hands and cherishes it, he has every opportunity to throw it to the wall and walk out, but he doesn't. He has managed to survive the horrible honeymoon phase. Our honeymoon phase hasn't been what it was meant to be; it has been emotional crying, it has been painful, sad, and full of anger all in one.

The man in front of me is dashing with a rascal's smile and worked his magic to give me what was rightfully mine, he didn't pride himself on running the monarch for a short time, and he didn't try to keep the authority that he had. The man that stands in front of me is an exceptional husband; I couldn't have asked for anyone better, and one day, he will be a great father to our children if we ever have children. This man is an influence on society, and I am lucky to have him.

Harry waves his hands in front of me, "Anna? Baby, are you listening?" Harry questions, snapping me from my daze.

I take a breath and smile at him, "Yeah," I lie through my teeth, and Harry shakes his head disapprovingly.

"You're shocking at lying."

I lift my shoulders into a shrug and push the covers off my body. I swing my legs over the edge of the bed and step towards Harry. I kiss him sweetly before pulling away and smiling. "What was that for?"

I offer him nothing but a small smile and dreamy eyes that can't peel themselves away from him.

"Mmm, I need to get back to work," Harry changes the subject as two of my lady in waiting's walk-in. "See you later," Harry kisses me softly, becoming rigid as he clears his throat and notices the ladies looking at the two of us. Harry doesn't feel comfortable with PDA in front of the staff and is still unsure how to act. It's humorous to a certain extent. He hated hiding the relationship, and now he doesn't know what to do now that he doesn't have to hide anything.

I reach for his hand as he steps away. Harry stops and looks over his shoulder before turning back around to face me, "What is it?" he softly asks. My eyes glance between him and his coffee in his hand. Harry rolls his eyes and hands me his coffee, "You're lucky I love you, my darling," Harry grins, "Now, goodbye," he begins to walk away, leaving me with the rest of his coffee and my staff.

I chuckle as the ladies watch him leave, swooning over him in the same manner I do. "You're lucky," one begins as she holds a few dresses across her arms.

"I know," I smile, well aware of how lucky I am. "What do I have the pleasure of wearing today?" I question, looking at the dresses, giving the ladies full reign of what they dress me in as I sit down on the edge of the bed.

♛ ♛ ♛

When I was a little girl, I filled my time prowling the hallways of the various estates we have, all of which had their unique quality. To this day, my favourite place is in Northern Ireland, Hillsborough Castle. I allocated ampere-hours in the gardens, playing hide and seek with the assistants and the bodyguards, countless hours picking wildflowers and chasing butterflies. I would do anything to go back to the days where life was simple, where all I had to think about was which flowers I desired to plant when I wasn't learning about the world and learning to speak different languages.

I remember one spring, Dad brought me to Hillsborough Castle; he and his staff purchased various flowers and shrubs I had picked out one day, we went through a magazine. We later spent that weekend planting the array of plants. Somehow, my father discovered a way to make everything match and look colour coordinated. I wasn't much assistance in the garden, I dug a few holes with my little shovel and helped water the plants, but he and his staff did most of the dirty work. It was when things were manageable, when we could be a family without anyone torturing my father. Perhaps back then, things weren't as simple as I assume, and maybe I was naive, but in my memories, things were simple.

We were happy.

Unfortunately, I can't travel to Hillsborough Castle and attain my peace, and I can't proceed to where I have always been satisfied. Right now, travelling too far is out of the question for safety reasons. Madeline can't fly back home to her family because of safety concerns. If I could, I would love to discover myself in rolling hills and grassland, where it appears neverending. I would love to advance to the countryside, to view the sunset over a meadow and gather nothing but the harmony of nature when the sun submerges into darkness. Harry's mother's home was calm and serene. There were no sounds of cars continually driving around, no people standing outside my place of residence daily, and no staff. It was normal- something I crave but can't possess. I wish I could be out feeding the baby animals and savouring life in the slow lane like I did the few times I have been up there.

I necessitate a scenery change, but I am unsure where the scenery change can occur when I am not authorised to travel. I still think running to Greece and changing our identities is a superb idea, but there is no way in hell I can convince Harry into the concept. Harry has expressed how ludicrous the idea is and logically explained to me the reasons why it is not happening. I think we would be fine with mundane duties and living in Greece. At least we wouldn't have Pippa around to pester the shit out of us. That woman is relentless; she has not given up on her notion of expressing how incompetent I am to be Queen.

What I want is for us to be happy without doubt lingering around us. I don't want the fear to continue to gloom over me. As strict as the palace is and the fact people are constantly watching, I am still concerned. Before my father's passing, I was carefree. I used to wander the halls' without much thought, but now I struggle to step outside my room without the second thought of whether something could happen.

I do not have proof of who killed my father, all I have is my suspicion, and I am convinced that these same people will come after me or, worse, Harry.

The media have attracted attention to Harry and me. The night on the balcony, as expected, drew attention to us, but in my lapse of judgment, I wasn't considering how this could affect him. He is now another target. If the Aces, whoever they may be, are still out for blood, their next bet would be him. In the mind of someone who wants revenge, money or really anything, they will go for the person who has the most impact. If they take out Harry, one less person will protect me before taking me out unless we comply with their requests. With each day that has passed since my father, I have waited for some request from this unknown group of people. I have waited for a phone call or a letter with their demands, but I have not received a single thing.

When I stayed at Harry's mother's, there were letters sent to her house addressed to myself and Harry; what happened after that night, I do not know. Harry said he would take care of it, and nothing has appeared since. After that night, I stopped looking into things and having Harry followed. I knew that he was right- some things are better left unknown. How Harry handles situations is not of my concern. Harry has his job, and I have mine. He does not tell me how to be a Royal, and I do not tell him how to do what he has to do. I know his field of work has gotten very messy over the last few months. He has done things he never imagined he would have to do.

The door to my office opens, distracting me from my daze of thoughts that have been accompanying me most of the day. Harry steps into the palace office and closes the door behind him, intentionally shutting the door on the people accompanying him. "Anna," Harry begins as he shuffles closer to the desk, he gestures between us and the door and shakes his head, "I have a man trying to measure me for clothes, a woman with an iPad wanting to be my assistant, and I have a man holding a fruit platter… Make it stop, please." Harry breathes out softly, "I appreciate their efforts, but I don't need an assistant. I can do my job."

"Fruit Platter? That is better service than me," I snicker.

"Sweetheart, I am highly frustrated with it." But, unfortunately, Harry doesn't recognise my humour or appear amused by the events.

"I will ask them to tone it down. Call them in," I instruct, gesturing towards the door.

"Surprised they can't hear us and just walk on in," Harry murmurs, advancing towards the door and unlocking it, allowing his array of followers to wander into the office.

The staff stand in front of me in a line, almost as if they are aware of what the conversation will hold. "I know you all have good intentions, but His Highness doesn't want to be followed, if he needs something, he will ask, but he doesn't need the extent of these privileges as my father did. Harry will let you know when and if he needs something. He is very low maintenance…" I graciously explain, "Mike, when he has the time, you can talk to him about suites and what he wants. Estelle, Harry doesn't want an assistant; Matthew takes care of everything. If Harry needs any help, he will ask," I direct each issue head-on, doing my best to be respectful, "And Luke, Harry doesn't need you to follow him with food unless asked; he will make his coffee when he wakes up. He takes a coffee at seven, he will ask you if he needs anything else, give him coffee, and you will be his best pal. He appreciates it, but he likes to be left to his own devices." ... "Think of him as a lone wolf, he was under the radar before marrying me, and he likes to stay that way."

Mike clears his throat and nods, "All due respect, your mother put us on his service."

"You can be on his service. Just keep a distance, thank you," I dismiss the humble team, and they all shuffle out gradually before shutting the door behind them.

"Rough first day?" I chuckle, and he leans on my desk and crosses his arms over his chest while he nods his head. "I just want to do my job, Anna."

"Well, honey, your job isn't just security anymore."

"It is," Harry disagrees.

I know the transition is going to be incredibly rough. He has gone from being security to being a husband to being a quiet King to becoming second to the throne and being waited on by the staff. I don't expect him to attend charity events, cut ribbons and be a royal member. But, on the other hand, I don't anticipate him to give up being security and guarding the palace, but I am not sure how it will operate with him being on my service.

"You know you will need security, Harry?"

"Anna, Matthew and I have it sorted out. Can we discuss something else?"

"Every Thursday, we don't have royal duties. Instead, we have family dinner with my mother," I inform Harry, "And I'd like us to commit to one day a week where it's just you and me even if it's just an hour."

Harry nods his head, "Of course, Anna."

"And we need to find our charities and volunteer work."

"Sure, I'll show kids how to run a security detail team."

"Harry," I press, "I'm serious."

"We can call it Harry's boys and girls' scouts, just without pitching a tent. Instead, I'll show them how to hogtie a person and keep people safe."

"I can't tell if you're joking or not."

Harry stares at me with a straight face, "I am not joking."

"Christ," I mutter, "How are we going to survive ruling a monarch."

Harry elevates his shoulders into a shrug, "I am just here for the ride, but I need to go over protocols and security things with you," Harry changes the subject, taking my ink pen from my hand and shifting the paperwork in front of me away from my body.

"I was working on that," I declare as I lean back in my chair and cross my arms over my chest, now mimicking his position.

Harry nods his head and places my pen in his breast pocket, "Right, so we need to have an unwritten understanding. When security says 'we are leaving', it means just that." Harry notifies me, already prompting me to roll my eyes.

"Just because my title changed doesn't mean I forgot the protocol."

Harry hums, "You need to redo your security training."… "You need to do your SAS training; you have a refresher course to do." Harry reminds me of what feels like the hundredth time.

I just have no desire to do the damn course.

"Will you be my teacher?" I smirk.

Harry sighs, "The tunnels are off-limits for the next few days."

"Oh, damn, now how I will be a product of any illegal activity? How will I escape the palace?" I sarcastically respond.

I have no intentions of escaping through the tunnels or causing any dilemmas; for the most part, I am emotionally stable and know that I cannot go off and get drunk because life as a royal isn't enjoyable.

"Princess—"

"Ah, no," I cut Harry off, "Wrong title, and don't even try to refer to me as my title. You know I hate it."

"And I hate when you make my job troublesome, which you are doing," Harry points as he gestures towards me, "Security is heightened. I need you to at least pretend to care."

"Fine," I mutter, "You're such an ass when you're the security detail."

"Anna, just get your training done with Matthew at the very least."

He is getting frustrated with me. I can tell by the way he is clenching his jaw and tapping his shoe against the flooring. He means well, but the training is a pain in my ass.

Why should we stage a kidnapping and show me how to handle the situation when if we wait long enough, it will happen?

Nothing surprises me with this monarchy. I wouldn't be surprised if Pippa tied me up, forced me in the back of her car and drove me across Europe before abandoning me in the middle of nowhere. After my father's incident, nothing is really off the table in terms of events that could take place. No amount of training saved my father.

"I will," I accept, leaning forward and standing to my feet before I encase my arms around his neck, "You need to relax," I inform him, his arms dropping to his side before his hands rest in the small of my back, enabling me to stand between his legs and bring our bodies closer. I give him a small smile. Then, I kiss him softly and leisurely.

"Easier said than done," Harry murmurs against my lips. I cut him off and kiss him more profoundly, not wanting his words but his affection.

He draws away with a sigh, "I have to be on your mother's service in a few minutes."

Mood killer.

Blinking with feigned innocence, I whisper, "Oh, come on," taking a chance and moving to caress the tender skin on his neck with sweet kisses. He cocks his head to the side, enabling me to kiss his fevered skin, my hands pursuing their way to the buttons of his shirt. Finally, my fingers touch the material of his tie, and I tug on it benevolently.

His tie unravels between my fingertips, and he moans softly when I introduce my kisses to his jawline, gingerly making my way to his lips. Aching tension between the two of us builds with a gentle persuasion of my kisses.

Harry breaths heavily, and his hands squeeze at my waist with a sense of frustration laced to them. Then, with a long, liquid kiss that rushes lust through us, his fingers dig into the material of my shirt.

Unchaining wild, delicious feelings brew inside me, eagerly demanding to escape with every moment that passes by. I feel him pull me closer, the tension at the edge of his fingertips kneading into the material.

I press my body against him, his fingers bunching my shirt even further, "Anastasia, we can't," Harry breaks our kiss with a whisper, putting space between us. He softens his eyes and shakes his head, "We are being watched," Harry breathes, "Camera's aren't cut to this room."

"Cut them, please?"

"I can't… How about later?"

I roll my eyes, irritated with him, "No."

Harry chuckles and begins to adjust his tie, clearing his throat, "I don't think you want the rest of the team watching… I get off at nine tonight. Wait up for me?"

"I think one of my executive orders as Queen is that we no longer have to schedule these things." I gesture towards the small space between us. "I'm tired of it."

It has been a hassle to get alone time with him for quite some time, and there's always something happening or someone interrupting.

"Take it up with security."

"You are security." I point out, irritarted to say the least.

"Well," Harry laughs, "I will have to have a code word with Matthew for when to cut the surveillance."

"Yeah, you get on that," I respond, taking my pen out of his pocket and sitting back down on my chair. "Can I ask you something?" I softly ask.

Harry narrows his eyes down on me, "Not sure I like the sound of this, but sure," Harry nods his head.

"This is private," I inform him.

"You can speak; nobody can hear us. They can just see us," Harry flicks his head to his side, subtly gesturing towards the hidden camera in the painting over the fireplace.

I compose myself for a moment before I take a leap of faith, "What happened with Victoria?"

"Uhm, she died?" Harry is confused.

"No, I mean the story."

I want to know the story he managed to spin to the press. I know he tends to release stories when he can’t get the Palace social media team involved.

"She was found. Louis got the coroner report back, and it was a snake bite. Unfortunately, she chose the wrong day to go hiking," Harry responds with a shrug.

"And Henry?"

Harry takes a breath and heavily sighs, "Do you not read the tabloids?" Harry sighs. I can tell that he doesn’t want to have this conversation by the way his jaw clenched and he looked around in an attempt to gain a moment to find an excuse.

"I have not been in the mood to read what the media has to say," I respond.

"Henry... He passed in his sleep peacefully."

"And what happened after the private funeral?" I question, unsure of what happened after the service took place. Against everyone's wishes, I insisted he was given a service, whether he deserved it or not for the events that took place. I didn't want everyone to be heartless. My father wouldn't have wanted such a thing.

"We all went our separate ways, you went to the room, and I went back to work?"

"No, with him. Where is he?"

"Oh," Harry sounds, "That, I cannot tell you."

I cock my head to the side, "You cannot tell me where he was laid to rest?" I am surprised.

Harry shakes his head, "No, I cannot."

"What about the rest of the Aces' like Henry's Dad?"

"Anna, I have a lot of people I am trying to track, just like I have a lot of things I need to do. I can't answer these questions. I need to go though." Harry politely dismisses the conversation.

As much as I want to press further and ask questions for my peace of mind, I know that now isn't the time or the place. "Be careful, okay?"

"Always," Harry nods before leaning down and kissing my cheek, "I love you and stay out of trouble while I am gone."

"No promises," I respond with a smile before he walks out, leaving me alone in the office where most major royal documents are signed.

This office has been used for many years by my father. It has been the places he has signed checks, and he has signed Royal assents— this room has been used for an array of different monumental things, and as I sit here in this room, I can't help but feel a weight on my shoulder intensify. I don't feel at ease as my pen glides across the paper and I sign my name across the lines; I don't feel this task is taken lightly. This office is the starting to place to the world as we know it, this room is where things begin, and as my reign begins, I am not sure my confidence starts here.

Being in the same office my father once sat in, I thought I would feel at ease and feel comfort— I don't. I feel the opposite. My world feels suffocated and anxious. This simple task of signing the lines makes me question my power. What I am doing today is a mandatory and straightforward procedure, it is nothing significant in the sense of signing a new Royal assent or signing the rights of dubbing a fresh Prince or Knight, but it feels as though it is a big deal.

I thought my mother would play a more significant role on my first day. I thought she would be with me to sign these documents and figure out what I am meant to do. But, instead, she seems to be doing her own thing. I don't blame her for not wanting to be a part of things, and the monarch has impacted her more than she would like to admit. To an extent, I think the monarch helped kill her spirits, especially in the last few months with what has been happening. My mother was nice enough to team with Harry to give me what was rightfully mine. Still, I expected to have some help from her— Mother has some insight into things, watched my father run the monarch for years, and knows a few things that I may not have caught onto, but she doesn't want to be a part of it. I have no clue where she is going.

All I know is that Harry is on her service.

♛ ♛ ♛

April 21st

Sitting in my office and staring at the four walls for days' led me to escape into the gardens to get some fresh air. Harry will kill me for coming out here without anyone with me, but I need some space. I am not surviving. I have had multiple meetings with influential people I do not know how to accommodate. I don't know why I am being thrown full force into this. I was hoping for a lighter transition, but that has been far from the case. I cannot keep up with everything. I don't know how my father managed.

The gardens are peaceful and quiet. They have always left me with a sense of calmness. No matter what is happening in my life, walking these gardens gives me a sense of hope. The gardens are blooming later than usual, but the Rhododendrons and Camellias are beginning to bloom.

I take a deep breath in the fresh air and stop wandering as I reach one of the many trees full of pink blossoms. It's breathtaking. The blossom trees leave me in awe every spring. I don't know how the gardeners keep the 39-acre garden at Buckingham Palace looking as unique as it does; everything is immaculate.

Spring-flowering trees are spread throughout the garden, but some areas are more than others. One of my favourite trails is the Queen's Walk. The walk has a vibrant display of trees and camellias. However, I am not sure what it is about the trek that excites me and brings me happiness. I am not sure if it's the outburst of assorted colours or just the quietness and the sound of nature humming.

There are more than two hundred several flowers in the gardens, varying from single flowers to frothy, peony-like efflorescences. There is a touch of everything within the gardens, and everything flows excellently. I bend down and caress my hand delicately to brush against the Blue lilacs that symbolise happiness and tranquillity, something I am longing to feel at the edge of my fingertips. I glance towards the Magenta lilacs and smile to myself, inhaling their scent and deep meaning of love and passion. The firm, sweet, heady scent of the lilacs lingers, and I stand back up, wandering away from the lilacs, leaving them to bloom on their own.

As I walk the small trail, I regard a man who appears out of place. He doesn't seem to belong here in the gardens. Nobody should be out here besides the groundskeepers, the horse trainer or security. The gardens at this time of day are not bustling with staff or anyone. They're withdrawn, which is why I prefer to wander out here. At first, I believe the worst, but my heart rate decreases and my stomach settles as soon as I notice the royal tour guide pamphlet hanging out of his pocket.

"Can I help you?" I challenge from behind, startling the man who seems to be heading towards what we call 'The island within the lake'.

Nobody goes towards the little lake; it is off-limits to most to help maintain its natural environment. I have been out there on a few occasions. It's a beautiful view, something I have always loved, but we keep it off-limits for the wildlife that is out there. We aren't one-hundred per cent on everything in the acres, but we know there is danger. My father told me a story about one of the purple flowers out there. He says it can kill someone in seconds. The poison within the purple flower is vital, so strong that years ago, dipping an arrowhead in the plant would guarantee death to anything it hits. This is how it got the nickname of "wolves bane", as it was used on arrowheads to hunt wolves to ensure they died. As scary as it sounds, it fascinated me. I am not sure how they figured out years ago that dipping an arrow would ensure death. I can only imagine someone came across the wolves bane on accident and used it for their advantage.

The unknown man turns around, and I take in his features, but what catches my eye the most is his button-down shirt. I follow the length of his arms and rest on the edge of his shirt.

"I uh- I have lost my group," the man responds, promptly curtseying as he notices who I am.

The man holds his hand out, prompting me to shake his hand. I stare at the cufflinks on his button-down, intrigued by them. I would expect to see these sorts of cufflinks in vegas or at a place where card games are a fortay, not at a palace and on an ordinary man. One cufflink features a Jack, King, and Queen and the other cufflink features three Aces in a foldable card deck. They're not the ordinary cufflinks, perhaps he is some sort of magician, or he just really likes cards. Who knows?

"Do I pique your interest, Princess?"

I shake my head, letting go of his hand, "I've never seen those kinds of cufflinks."

The man nods his head, his eyes flicking down to his cufflinks, "You never know when you'll need an Ace up your sleeve," the man smiles, seeming mysterious but pleasant in the same manner, "I'll let you be, Princess. Can you direct me back to my crew?"

"You will not be able to get back into the Palace; I will take you," I respond, gesturing along the stone path before I begin to walk towards the palace. “I hope you didn’t touch or pick any flowers,” I comment, noticing the pollen stain at the edge of his white shirt. Of course, I expect children to want to touch and pick the flowers, but not a grown man.

The man shakes his head, and his eyes dart around. A clear indication is lying. I know he picked some of the Lillies; I can see precisely where he snatched them from. I don’t say anything; instead, I change the subject. "So, you got lost in the gardens?"

"Yes, I had stopped to check my phone; I have been expecting a call from a family member; I and when I looked back up, I was alone and standing in the middle of a garden," The man explains, "Quite embarrassing to get lost on a guided tour. I am surprised guards didn't cease me."

“I would be concerned about the gaggle of geese wandering around the fields. They get mean. I'd highly suggest for you not to lose your tour group," I half-smile, unsure of how the tour group left him behind, but it does happen. I remember one occasion where a little kid decided to play hide and seek within the palace. He snuck off from the tour and found himself in the dining hall. It was quite a chaotic mess. I am sure there was some sort of protocol to follow. Harry was the one who found the kid and called off the protocol. He didn't fully tell me about the day, but he briefly explained that it was hectic trying to lock half a palace down to find a lost tourist hiding amongst the furniture.

"I don't intend to. But, again, I am sorry for the inconvenience."

"It is okay," I shake my head, trying to be reassuring despite him trying to hide the fact he took a few Lillies.

Mistakes happen, it is easy to get lost at the palace, hence why there is a tour guide, but I assume I need to find a new guide since this group lost a man. I glide my fingers over the touch system that opens the doors through fingerprint and a unique key.

I push the door open and allow the man inside the palace, "Your tour group is right up there," I flick my head towards the small area at the end of the hallway. I can hear the tour guide talking about one room containing a magnificent array of paintings by Rubens, Van Dyck and Canaletto.

The man clears his throat and politely nods before hurrying down the hallway, where I watch him join the group of tourists who are more fascinated with the paintings than with me. A little girl notices me and waves. I smile and wave back.

I watch the small group for a while, mainly watching the man who seems to settle into the group and fit in. I smile to myself, happy to have helped a lost soul wandering the palace before I turn around. I gasp and put my hand over my chest, "Christ, you can't do that," I sigh, catching my breath as Harry stands in front of me with barely an inch of space between us, "Any closer and you'd have been on top of me." I press my hands to his chest.

"Have I not taught you to be aware of your surroundings?"

"I was," I respond, clearly lying. I know exactly what he is going to allude to. If I were aware of my surroundings, I would have been aware of how close he was to me. I already know he is going to give me hell about it.

Harry gently takes my hand and glances around, making sure nobody can see us before he opens a secret door, and we step into a different room. He closes the door, and I lean on the wall, taking a few deep breaths to bring my heart rate back down. "You alright?" Harry kisses my forehead before giving me a soft smile.

"No, you about gave me a heart attack," I respond, slapping his arm lightly, "One of these days, I will do the same to you."

"You give me heart attacks daily," Harry murmurs, his hands dropping to my side and resting on my waist. "In all seriousness, you need to be more aware, Anna. I could have been a murderer."

"That is what I have you for, to fight off murderers." I smile up at him.

Harry rolls his eyes, "You don't make my job easy, that is for sure," Harry chuckles.

"Mhm," I hum, "So why were you hovering so close? What do I owe this visit?" I request. Harry benevolently pulls me closer, and I settle into his warm embrace, feeling at ease for the first time in a few days.

"When I saw that you kicked Oliver off your service, I figured you were at your witts ends."

I rest my cheek on his chest and let out a breath, his arms tightening around me and holding me in the silence.

For the first time in a while, silence feels like a treasured moment. Nobody is requesting me, nobody telling me what to do or how to do it, nobody calling my name or needing me to be Queen. For the first time in a while, I can breathe and enjoy the silence without feeling the excessive need to cry or have a panic attack.

Oliver seems to always cop the shity end of the stick with me. He has from the moment he was on my service the first time. Earlier, my emotions got the better of me. I couldn't take it anymore and needed time alone. Nobody understood that I needed to compose myself. Everyone was suffocating me. When I managed to escape the chaos of everyone, Oliver was on my tail, following me everywhere. I couldn't take it. I needed utter silence and alone time. This time, I didn't threaten to fire him. I simply told him he wasn't on my service and to leave. Surprisingly, he listened to me.

"You can't kick him off your service."

"I needed space," I respond, lifting my head from his chest and stretching away from his embrace. "You don't get it," I mutter, turning my back towards him. I swallow hard and look up at the ceiling, doing my best not to allow the tears to fall from my eyes that are welling up.

Harry stays silent for a minute before he clears his throat, "Anastasia, sweetheart, do you want to talk about it?"

I don't respond. I stare at the wall and wipe my tears away, not wanting him to see me cry over everything. I am stronger than this. I don't cry when I can't do things.

The flooring creeks and Harry's shoes sound against the floors before his hands are on my waist again, "Anna," Harry whispers, tenderly tugging my waist and turning me to face him. Before he can do or say anything, I bury myself into his chest, still not wanting him to see me cry. He has seen me cry so many times in the last few months, and I am tired of it. I am tired of crying and feeling everything at once to feeling nothing. There is no in-between when it comes to how I feel. I am either all there, or I am not.

Harry holds me close, his arm tightly around me as his hand rubs circles on my back, "Okay," he whispers, trying to comfort me soothingly. "The other night, I was so tired, frustrated and stressed that I fired one of the security guys, and I got enraged at Matthew to feel better. We argued for a good thirty minutes before we stopped, and he just laughed."

"What?" I sniffle, surprised to be hearing of such a thing. It is rare to see Harry lose his shit on people, perhaps I am not around when it happens, but I don’t hear or see this side of him.

"Yeah, I lost my shit the other night. It happens, Anna. It happens to all of us, and it's okay to lose your shit and let it out. It is okay to want time alone and to cry. You don't need to hide it, especially from me."

"I'm tired of crying, Harry."

"It's part of the grieving process… But everyone has their moments, some more than others. Anastasia," Harry trails off, his hand moving to force me to look at him. Instead of fighting him like initially planned, I look up at him, "Life isn't easy, especially yours, but it will be okay."

"I'm the only one not okay."

Harry shakes his head, "No, you're not. Your mother cries too."

"Only seen her cry twice, the hospital and the funeral."

Harry takes a breath, his eyes softening as he opens his mouth to speak, but he stops himself. Harry bites his lip, pondering his thoughts and what to say. I cock my head to the side, unsure of how to read him or what his thoughts are. "Anna, sometimes things aren't always as they appear."

"What do you mean?"

"I have to get back to work," Harry dismisses the conversation, his hand raising to wipe away my tears, "I have to put a plan in place for your first event as Queen; I will be done in a few hours, do you want to go out for dinner?"

"Like leaving the palace?"

Harry nods his head, "Yes, you haven't left since coronation day, and I think you need to have some sort of normalcy."

I nod my head and smile at him, "I would like that a lot," I agree.

Honestly, since my father's passing, I haven't left the palace much or at all unless for royal events. I haven't felt the desire to go out and be in public, nor have I been allowed. Security is always high, and I am always on a high-risk alert. I have become accustomed to the high-risk level threat and haven't even asked to go out. I figured at some point. Someone would be released into the world where I could be normal for a few minutes.

"Be ready to leave at six; Matthew will take you to my car." Harry leans down and kisses my lips lightly, "And keep an eye on your surroundings," Harry winks, wiping my cheek with the pad of his thumb one more time. "Oliver is back on your service, but he will keep his distance, okay?"

I agree, "Okay," I respond before he walks back out through the secret door where he steps back into the initial hallway, and I sojourn in the room he brought me into. I walk across the red carpet and take a seat in the leather chair. I slip off my heels and lift my legs onto the leather chair, tucking them under me before I place my arms on the armrest.

Oliver walks in offers me a small smile, "Permission to enter?"

“Smartass," I mutter with a slight chuckle, "I'm sorry, Oliver."

"It's okay, Her highness."

"Is it okay if you make sure nobody comes in here?" I question, "I would like some time alone," I softly instruct, resting my head on my arms.

"As you wish," Oliver agrees, exercising towards the door and stepping out, leaving me alone in a room where very few will find me.

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cherrynojutsu · 3 years ago

Text

Title: Like Silver

Summary: A companion series for Like Gold.

Sakura misses him so much. She misses the faint smell of woodsmoke and sage, and mismatched eyes captivating in their intensity and unfathomable depths. The Rinnegan is beautiful, soft lavender ringed by hypnotizing layers of circle and tomoe, but flecks of silver dance in his right, tiny asterisms bewitching in nature, if one gets close enough; she’d first noticed it when they were children at the Academy. She knows they're Itachi's now, a slightly different scattering of luminaries aglow in the deep pitch of obsidian, but they're still as enthralling to her as they had been back then. She dreams of that silver sometimes, recalls it any time she sees something similar in color or reflet.

Blank period, canon-compliant, Sakura-centric, some expanded plot points from Like Gold, fluff and pining, eventually becomes a smut fest with feelings.

Disclaimer: I did not write Naruto. This is a fan-made piece solely created for entertainment purposes.

Rating: M (eventual nsfw-ness)

AO3 Link - FF.net Link - includes beginning/ending author's notes

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Chapter 1/?: An Introduction to Electrocardiography

Sakura gazes out the window of her office, a pile of paperwork set aside for a poetic sort of procrastination, trying to indulge for once in a Konoha spring, though she's finding it arduous.

As pretty as it is this time of year, all she can manage to feel is wistful.

Hanami has come and gone already for the most part, though there are a few stubborn cherry blossom trees lingering at the tail end of their blooming. She can see one here from her window, up on the hillside that slopes towards Hokage Rock, clinging to the uneven land. She’s sure its roots have to be all twisted, a labyrinth of gnarled wood clinging to any scrap of land it can wind itself around as its branches and petals try against all odds to reach upwards into the open sky that she can’t take her eyes off of.

There’s a metaphor in there somewhere, but it’s one she doesn’t care to unpack.

This year was her twentieth viewing of her namesake, though Sakura obviously doesn't remember the first few. Her parents take great pride in the retelling of tales from those first few years of her life, the ones she was too little to remember. The highlights come up annually on her birthday without fail, how she grasped at the petals like they were something precious, clutched in her sticky little hands the entire day.

A framed photograph is perched on one of the built-in shelves of her parents' living room, of her and her father on her first birthday. He was holding her up on unsteady legs, ridiculously proud and pointing towards the camera where her mother had been trying to get her to look. Her short pink hair was flying absolutely everywhere, matching the fluttering petals and in-bloom cherry blossom tree in the background, chubby hands grasping upwards. Strawberry cake and frosting were smeared all over her cheeks. They’d had a picnic for her, at the park nearest to their house.

“We came home and cleaned you up, and then your father helped you water your tree for the first time, in the little pink watering pail you unwrapped earlier. You were so cute.” That’s what her mom says every year. Sakura has the sentence memorized at this point, could recite it on cue, if she needed to.

Her parents had planted a cherry blossom sapling in their backyard a few days after they brought her home from the hospital as a newborn, so the tree is around the same age she is. She used to spend time under it often, as a kid, and some of her earliest memories involve sprawling beneath it to study the heavens while her mother gardened. She would also sneak berries from the patch when her back was turned. Sometimes her dad would join in her pilferage, and they would sit beneath the tree like a couple of bandits with stained lips, though those first few years she can remember he barely fit underneath it, as tall as he is. Many a tickle fight had been had, shaded by those branches. She would read books there on nice afternoons, when she was a little older.

The tree is fully grown now, also on the final cusp of its blooming for the year, floriferous wood expanded outwards to drape her childhood stomping grounds in a sea of soft pink. They have a picnic under it every year, in her family’s backyard, when they celebrate her birthday together. Her actual birthday has come and gone, but her birthday dinner is two days from now. Her parents swung by her apartment on Sunday afternoon for a bit with outlandishly large cupcakes, but her mom had mentioned they’d do dinner and a gift on their usual night, Thursday, since it works so well with their schedules every other week.

“We have to have your picnic, under your tree, like always. It’s a tradition! My beautiful girl. I can’t believe you’re twenty. It seems like just yesterday you were only yay high,” her dad had told her, gesturing below his knees before hugging her too tightly, ruffling the hair she'd inherited from him before they left. The cupcakes were strawberry with cream cheese frosting, one of her favorite treats. They’d left her with four extra to enjoy between then and Thursday, one for each day if she wanted it, turning her birthday into more of a week-long affair than a one-day celebration.

She and Ino had demolished two of them while watching some of the terrible movies they love to hate together, later that evening. It had been a smorgasbord of strawberries, really, because they'd washed them down with strawberry daiquiris, sugary sweetness topped with ridiculous amounts of whipped cream. They'd sat on her balcony, after, sipping a little tipsily and just looking.

"You should try to enjoy your namesake more this year, Forehead. You're so busy that I'm not sure you've realized, but you've really grown into it," Ino had said, beckoning vaguely towards a Konoha beginning to bloom, renewed with a warm breeze, spring ushered in by a fluttering of pink petals. Ino likes to give compliments in roundabout ways, she’s learned over the course of their friendship; crass as the blonde can be, she does have her moments. Her words meant a lot to Sakura, so she’s trying to take them to heart, to stop and smell the cherry blossoms, so to speak. It won’t be long before Konoha crescendos into the sweltering heat of the summer.

She loves her parents and her friends. She really does.

But birthdays are weird, Sakura thinks.

Last year, Sasuke had sent her a letter on her birthday. She’s reread it so many times that she has it more than memorized; it’s stitched into the muscle tissue of her heart at this point, or maybe scarred into the lining of her aortic valve, sempiternal markings adorning the tunnels that sustain her, causing her breath to catch every time.

Sakura,

Hanami has come to the wilderness in the Land of Honey. Bees are awakening and foraging for the first pollen of the season, with which to begin again. Cherry blossom petals are everywhere, lining the pathways and floating on the water.

Happy birthday.

-Sasuke

It had been short, simple, and even a little poetic; she had cherished it, as she does all of his other letters. She’d cherished the pressed flower with it just as much; a cherry blossom, neatly flattened with a precision that screamed Sasuke, near exactly the same shade of pink as her hair.

Sakura had started crying when she unfolded the paper to reveal it sitting atop his words. His hawk had waited patiently at her office window for a response to be written and tied to its leg, perched atop the windowsill and watching the goings-on of the village below, absolutely no concept in its predator brain of how much she delights in seeing it fly, a graceful tether to the boy - now man - she has been in love with for ages.

Cherry blossom petals are everywhere. Is there a hidden meaning there, or is she making a mountain out of a molehill?

She’s tried not to read too much into the letters. She's not sure if he sends any to Naruto or not; she's too afraid to ask, because she'll either get a heart-pounding hope if he doesn't get them, or a soul-crushing disappointment if he does. She can't imagine him sending a yellow flower to Naruto, but he may very well have sent him a different gift for his birthday.

Maybe he just thought she would like a flower, which she did - it’s pressed for safekeeping, along with all of his other correspondence to her, sporadically and chronologically throughout a book she keeps on her nightstand, An Introduction to Electrocardiography. It is her take on an album of small things she holds close to her own heart, things she wishes she could read in his. Sakura didn’t want to buy an actual album for such a thing; that felt too formal, for something as ambiguous as her ties to Sasuke, overflowing on her end as they may be. So she’d settled on a book about deciphering the heart’s tells based on science only, electrical impulses and repolarization, the sizes and positions of the chambers, how to diagnose conditions utilizing one’s findings. It’s one she doesn’t need access to anymore, extremely familiar with EKGs after years of study. She’d wanted it to be something no-nonsense, all hard facts and data on how to read activity plotted over time.

Evidence-based. Are letters evidence, though? She’s not sure that would hold up as empirical proof in any of the scholarly journals she’s studied or submitted work to since beginning her research. She thinks wryly, though, based on what she has witnessed get published, that scientific verification doesn’t always matter if you know the right people.

She’s thought many times sifting through it that perhaps it is too optimistic, too hopeful of a book subject for such a thing. Sakura has agonized over it, frankly, wondering whether it was an inappropriate choice.

...But now that they’re in there, it might ache worse to move them somewhere else.

It’s the last day of March now, and she didn’t get a letter this month, which is unusual, because she’s gotten one near each month in the time that he’s been away. She’s paged through the book a few times over the past several days, rereading and admiring the preserved sakura blossom, frozen in suspended animation indefinitely on a page about precordial leads.

Sakura hadn’t really expected anything from him for her birthday, other than a monthly letter like he usually sends... but this year she didn’t even get that. She’s trying really hard to not be disappointed. She has so much to be thankful for, in the grand scheme of things...

...But the petals of the cherry blossom from last year have faded over time, she’d evaluated yesterday, sitting in her bedroom. It might be like her, always pressed in a book, fading whilst stuck indefinitely between the boundless teeth of academia. There is always more data to record, more evidence, with which one can prove or disprove their findings.

No letter this month, though. Nothing to record, no new evidence.

It might be time to move the letters somewhere else, she thinks pensively. Maybe a place where she’s not tempted to look at them all the time; their placement in the book, small scraps of paper that stick out in only a couple of places, makes it easy to go back and reread them. She’s pretty sure she has an empty shoebox in her closet that she could move them to, in a pile rather than catalogued between pages rife with information and a fragile sort of hope. Maybe she’ll do it tonight, put it up in the far right corner of the upper shelf, shoved towards the back so she can’t reach it without the stool, so she’s not tempted whenever the next bout of heartsickness slams into her like one of Tsunade-shishou’s fists used to. She needs to go by the library after work first, to return some things, but maybe when she gets home, she’ll do it. She could eat a cupcake, too; that might make it a little easier.

She dreams of that silver sometimes, recalls it any time she sees something similar in color or reflet. There’s an extremely unique necklace in an antique shop she visits with Ino and Sai from time to time, and occasionally on her own, over on the northeast side of town. It’s a salt-and-pepper diamond, dark grey with inclusions, dainty and set in what must be a hand-fabricated setting. It hangs from a silver chain, towards the back of a display case filled with other vintage and distinctive pieces, but it’s the only one she ever finds herself drawn to. It is so similar to his right eye, dark smoke near black, speckled with beguiling silver startling in its clarity. The bevel cut reveals new flecks dependent on the angle at which you view it.

Sakura studies it closely on each visit, because it is so hauntingly breathtaking and it reminds her of him.

Ino has said it’s not her color, and that she should stick to warm tones and gold, for which she is better suited; Sakura has not confessed to her why it catches her eye so much. Sai has agreed with his girlfriend on the coloring note, sensitive as he is to such things, but the way he studies her every time she tears herself away from it makes her suspect he knows exactly why it captivates her so. It’s been sitting there for years at this point; she has to mentally talk herself out of buying it on each visit. It’s beautiful, but she would spend far too much time gawking at it, and it might hurt more with extended study than the gentle tugging at her heart she experiences when she’s in that old building throughout tiny fragments of lackadaisical afternoons.

Sasuke has been gone for a long time. She hopes he's finding the peace he's been seeking, that he's seeing the world with new eyes just as he'd imagined. She thinks of him every day, sends out little orisons like petals in the breeze in the hopes that they’ll find him, wherever he is.

I wonder where he is now.

Try as she does to enjoy the breath of spring Konoha is right now, and her namesake as Ino said, all she can seem to do is shift her vision to the sky, hoping against hope for a glimpse of a familiar bird-of-prey that will stay an ample amount of time for her to craft a response, before it abvolates away for another month.

Sakura smiles, then, close to laughing at the absurdity of it all, because she is so predictable. She loves this village despite its many flaws and challenges, despite the things about it she and Naruto and Kakashi-sensei and Ino and even Tsunade-shishou, off in the Land of Wind, are trying to change, but even after so many years, she’s still pining for something beyond it, something in the wilds of the sky just beyond her reach.

There’s always next year, she supposes, pupils drawn again towards the outstretched branches of the cherry blossom tree on the hill, before trailing her eyes along further. She can grow a little more to try to reach him. When she was little, she had wanted to grow tall so she could try to touch a star, like the branches of the tree in her backyard did when she and her father laid beneath them on balmy summer nights. He would tell her ridiculous stories about all of the constellations, things she knew had to be untrue, even at the ripe age of five. Precocious, he’d always called her, but in the loving, joking manner he had.

Her gaze follows the horizon, leisurely taking in the rest of her home. It really is a lovely day, despite her yearning. Spring is here again, and today's is a gentle sunset, one last little bit of sunlight with which to conclude March. The temperature is already spiking, unusually warm for early spring, but summers in the Land of Fire are always hot. She really should finish her paperwork, but it’s hard to find the motivation just yet.

Something possesses her, then, to turn her neck more, take in more of the skyline's continuation. She wants to see all of it.

And then Sakura’s eyes fall on an achingly familiar figure cloaked all in black, perched only a roof away and observing her, and she thinks she must have nodded off, because she has to be dreaming.

She subtly pinches herself in the millisecond of time that follows, but she is very much awake.

The words are blooming out of her throat before she can even process what’s happening, exultation sinking into her every vein. “Sasuke-kun!” She moves to crank her window open the rest of the way, and he hops from the neighboring roof down into her office, all nimble legerity that she still thinks has to be a mere mirage conjured from her memories. When he straightens to his full height, she muses that he has to have grown taller. The mere sound of his footsteps on the tile flooring, as familiar a refrain to her as if he’d just walked out of the village yesterday, are a treasure beyond price.

“Sakura.” His voice is a rich timbre that she has desperately felt the absence of; hearing him say her name almost makes her want to cry. She smiles wider instead, to the extent that it almost hurts, and her gaze latches hungrily onto the very eye she was just daydreaming about. A storm of soot and silver, beveled into countless fragments like some kind of dark, rustic diamond, and so staggeringly beautiful that she’s pretty sure she’s blushing just from beholding it. Gods, it's not fair for someone to be so handsome.

“When did you get back?” She asks, utterly overcome with joy. This is better than a letter or any birthday gift she could have received, brighter than any star she’s beheld.

“Just now.” He’s smiling, a small and subtle upturn of lips that is so characteristic of him. Then his words hit her, and her face must be getting redder.

Just now? As in…

“I’m sorry I missed your birthday,” he adds before she can simmer on that for too long, and she has to blink in bewilderment, because that is the absolute last thing she expected him to say. Sakura wonders how much heat can creep into one’s face before they spontaneously combust.

Then she realizes she should probably respond, as humans tend to do in conversations. “Oh! Um… it’s okay.” She folds her hands in front of her shyly, grinning like an idiot. “Thank you for remembering.”

There is a lengthy moment in which she just soaks him in, hoping he can read in her eyes how much she’s missed him. He is still so beautiful, prized eyes and aristocratic angles that have solidified a bit more into the face of a man in the time that’s passed. His hair is different now, covering his Rinnegan eye. His cloak is a little more threadbare, too. He’s tall.

His expression, normally unreadable, is calm. Content, even.

There’s a question nagging at her that she knows she needs to ask. She tries not to bite her lip as she asks it, braces herself for the possibility of not liking the answer.

“Are you… just back for a little while?”

Did you find what you were searching for?

He gazes at her for so long that she thinks he may be glimpsing her soul, peeking into her ventricles to see his own words immortalized there, seared into her core to be felt each time her blood pumps.

“...For more than a while.” And she smiles the biggest she ever has. Oh, this is so much better than a letter or a gift.

“Well, welcome back, Sasuke-kun. It’s… very good to see you again.” It feels as if a piece of her heart has been returned to her, something of the divine stitched back into her chest and full to bursting in omneity.

There is a pause, and then he’s reaching his hand out towards hers, initiating physical contact with a touch that is feather light, so gentle she thinks she is going to start sobbing.

She can’t help it; she pulls him into a hug, tinged with elation. She hopes he doesn’t mind too much; he stiffens for a brief moment, but then settles, wrapping his arm around her and settling his head atop of hers, and she could die happy right there, embracing him with feelings momentarily set free from where they’ve been whelved into her chest.

He smells faintly like sage and smoked cedar, just as she remembered. She can hear his heart thumping, a strong cadence, and it grounds her. Oh, she’s missed him.

“...I’m home, Sakura.” Soft words float above her head, and she can feel the vibration of them through his chest, right by her ear.

Oh, she’s crying.

Sasuke lets her embrace him for a long time, for which she is so grateful. She knows he’s not one for physical contact; it’s a privilege to be allowed into his space even for a single second, let alone for an extended period.

She draws back eventually, glancing up at him again through the tears still collecting in her eyes. Her face blazes when he reaches to wipe them away tenderly with a calloused hand, careful and with a lenity that she’s always known was there, hidden under the surface.

She could just stare at him for hours, she thinks as he lowers his hand. He’s still looking down at her with one of the softest expressions she has ever seen him wear. She really hopes she’s not dreaming.

It’s tremendously hard to get it together, but she tries, because she doesn’t want to spend the entire time crying, not when he's finally back. There are so many questions she’d like to ask him that she’s finding it a challenge to pick one with which to lead.

He surprises her by speaking first, quietly. “I… had something made for you.”

It takes a moment for the words to compute.

Made for me?

Her processing speed must be exceptionally slow, stuck in the utter mush her insides have become, because he adds, “...For your birthday.”

Sakura blinks, and furrows her brows in confusion. “Made… for me?”

He nods. “...I’m sorry it’s late.” The way he speaks it is cryptic, like the apology weighs more than one needed for a tardy gift. Doesn’t he know she doesn’t care? He could have showed up in July with something for her, and it still would have made her knees weak and her heart thump furiously in her chest.

Made for me? She’s still stuck on that sentiment as he breaks eye contact and turns to rummage through his satchel, beneath his cloak.

Sasuke pulls out a medium-sized flat box, a simple white, and she doesn’t know what she expected, but it wasn’t that. Something that comes in a box is a lot more formal than a pressed cherry blossom, something more… permanent.

She reaches out to take it on autopilot, and is stupidly distracted by the way his hand brushes against hers, a small spark that makes something in her quake. She wonders if he felt it, too.

Sakura clutches the box with both hands like her life depends on it, murmuring softly, “Thank you, Sasuke-kun.” She’ll wait until later to open it, after he’s left; whatever it is, she doesn’t want to embarrass him, and she also isn’t sure she can tear her eyes away from him just yet, anyways.

Is it just the lighting in her office, or are his ears a little flushed? She didn’t notice that before; maybe he’s had a drawn-out journey back. She wonders how much ground he covered today, if he’s still winded. He might need to rest.

But then he mumbles, voice husky with what she assumes is disuse, “...You should open it.”

His words echo in her head again. I… had something made for you.

“Okay,” she answers in a hushed voice, so she doesn’t scare him away, shifting slightly to set the box on her desk carefully. Suddenly she is very nervous, anticipation settling into her gut.

When she lifts the lid, she swears her heart ceases beating.

The most exquisitely intricate uchiwa fan she has ever laid eyes upon is placed in the box before her.

It’s carved into a likeness of a cherry blossom tree, branches twisting lissomely into bamboo framework, impossibly fine. A different set of words is reverberating in her head now.

You should try to enjoy your namesake more this year, Forehead. You're so busy that I'm not sure you've realized, but you've really grown into it.

Made for me?

“O-oh.” Sakura is not sure what she expected, but it wasn’t this. She fights back the tears, biting her lip and wide eyes soaking it all in, enjoying her namesake in a way that is entirely unprecedented in its sheer severity. The amount of time it would have taken for someone to sculpt and bind and sew is unimaginable; every detail is finely wrought, flawless down to the silk and stitching, lacquered and carved pale wood shifting effortlessly into eighty slivers of bamboo, intricately webbing silk together with the lithe grace of gossamer. It’s a cherry blossom tree, petals and all, pearlescent thread shifting slightly, gorgeously in the light, unimaginable detail. She has stitched people back together countless times over the course of years, but even her expert dexterity would look like a child’s first embroidery stitching in comparison. The stamen within the petals are nearly more detailed and finely milled than an actual, real life cherry blossom, plexure sutured in a fashion so baronial that it’s impossible to believe human hands were even responsible for it.

The silk. Oh, the silk. The color shift bears a striking resemblance to the Uchiha insignia. This is not a gift one gives to a teammate.

Oh, she's crying.

This has to be a dream, some kind of paracosm her heart thought up to give her brain the high of a lifetime. Hope burgeons and unfolds in her chest cavity, bleeding into her extremities like the pale pink shifting into red before her eyes. She’s never, ever going to forget this, not even if she lives to be one hundred years old.

Made for me?

She picks it up with disbelieving hands, grasping it more carefully than she’s ever held anything in her entire life, as if she’s going to wake up at any moment and it will dissolve into synapse, lost in the hazy juncture of morning the way one tends to lose awareness of the contents of a dream upon coming to lucidity. To her absolute bewilderment, it stays solid in her hands, a finery made even more unbelievable by touch. The grooves of the carving are as gentle as his hand had been on hers earlier. She thinks it would have had to be commissioned at least a few months in advance, outlandishly expensive. She’s never seen silk like this. She doesn't know; she's smart, but she's no artisan. Maybe she should ask Sai. She's crying.

She adores it.

Tears won’t stop welling in her eyes; she thinks they may be escaping from a tender spot inside her chest that’s been reserved for him since she was a child, a leak in a metaphorical dam. She takes a steadying breath, blinks, almost has them conquered. Get a grip, Sakura.

Then Sasuke’s hand is on hers, gently turning the handle over.

Her name is carved into the pale wood, on the back in formal calligraphy, Sakura daintier and more perfect than she could ever write it, as if it had just been uncovered in one of the inner layers rather than whittled there manually. Sasuke presses her fingers to it before loosening his grip, and in that second it feels as though his lost hand is in the wood, caressing her from split atoms in the grooves from the other side.

The tears spill over her cheeks - she admits defeat - intricacy of the entire thing blurring out of focus but still somehow burned into her retinas for all eternity.

Made for me, made for me, made for me-

Her voice finds her after a few more tears fall. “It’s beautiful.” Her voice is barely above a whisper, overwhelmed with complete and utter awe, trying desperately to choke down a sob. “Thank you, Sasuke-kun. I… I’ll treasure it. Always.” She cradles the fan closer to her chest, her heart - maybe An Introduction to Electrocardiography wasn’t a poorly-chosen book, after all; there is much to be read from something this precious - and regards him with watery eyes. She wishes she wasn’t crying; the distortion of the tears is making it hard to see the silver she’s loved and missed so much.

His hand lifts to her face after a moment, and to her surprise, he wipes away her tears again. She barely catches the something-more in his eyes, then, through the waterworks, precious metal flashing and pouring into the words scarred into her ventricles to live there forever, fortified in silver, but he is looking at her so -

“...Always,” he agrees, voice a little breathless, sparking scintilla near hypnotizing her in their luster, and he seems so happy -

Then he leans down to press his lips gently to hers, and this is better than her heart stopping, like when she opened the box. This time, her heart soars, and she touches a star she’s been dreaming of for eons.

#naruto #sasusaku #ssfanfiction #cherry writes #like silver #fanfiction #i'm really out here with just hundreds of pages of fanfiction in my google doc drafts huh

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