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hwalovs · 3 days ago

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The Apprentice 1/?

Chapter One; Deer, Fox, or Rabbit?

Pairing; Viktor x Vampire!Reader Warnings; none too extreme? Blood drinking (animal), mainly just yappers yapping about things. it’s a little twilight coded, so what?? sue me! Word Count; 7.9k

Summary; Finding an Apprentice should be easy. You have a simple task, one that cannot be handled lightly. Yet, the mind is a unique thing, and each one you've come across don't seem to meet your specific qualifications. Until your dear friend and confidant, Heimerdinger, brings forth a man with a bright ambition and a determination that could rival anyone.

A/n; oh god,, another series?? this one ahs been cooking for the last few days, and after finishing arcane and igniting my LOVE for Viktor, i decided it was time to try my hand at writing him :>> my darling friend @disturbyn beta read this so I’m no longer liable for financial instability!

THIS IS NOT EDITED!

DO NOT COPY, REPOST ON OTHER SITES, OR TRANSLATE MY WORK WITHOUT PERMISSION!

“My dear friend,” a voice chimes, and you smile. Dropping to a knee, you open your arms to greet him with a brief hug. He was warm, fur soft as it touched your cheek. He pulls away, and with bright eyes he says your name. He was dressed in his usual councilman attire, blue fabric complimented with gold.

“Councilor Heimerdinger, what a pleasant sight to see.”

He waves you off, stepping away to give you a glare “drop the formalities, would you?”

Shrugging, you rise to your full height, tipping your head to your driver who opened your door. The streets of Piltover were bustling with life, people walking in and out of the building. The sun was shining brightly, no cloud in the sky, the buildings of Piltover glimmering and dazzling. On the rare occasions that you visit, the city never fails to amaze you with its beauty. More innovations included, more steps into the future.

Even with your jacket on, it was cold outside. The air was biting at your cheeks as you walked the stairs, body shivering as the wind wrapped your body. Heimerdinger couldn’t tell the difference, his thick fur protecting his small body from the elements.

Unless it was raining, then you would see him running for any kind of shelter.

“I find it customary, dear friend,” you jest, beginning to climb the steps of the building. It was large, almost doubling the size of the one from the last Inventors Competition you attended. It was hosted in Piltover this year, situated right between the heart of the city, and the bridge that leads to Zaun. The building was a museum, repurposed for the day. Three sets of double doors were propped open, allowing people to freely go in and out. Marble steps lead the way up, the chains on your boots clinking with each step you take.

“Yet, you’ve arrived late,” Heimerdinger says, “not very customary of you, my dear.”

“Eh,” you shrug, “I doubt my presence was missed.”

He shakes his head, “most have already asked for an audience with you. You’re going to come across many disappointed faces, I fear.”

“Aw, poor babies,” you kiss your teeth, stopping in the doorway to look around the room. Multitudes of tables were set up to hold different inventions. Most of the crowd had already moved on, the aisles free to roam comfortably.

Although you’d have rather stayed home, there was a nagging that stayed consistent in your mind. It whispered to you during the night, while you tried to work, while you roamed the empty halls of your estate.

Oh, sweet death. It would sing, a symphony without the strings.

Heimerdinger's letters on the subject once brought you annoyance, but this year, you decided to indulge him. Months of writing, planning your short visit, tell you what to expect from some of his students. You tried to keep an open mind, but as you survey the room from your standing point, you find mirrors of what you’ve seen before.

He chuckles, and you nod to the enforcers that stand beside the doors. They barely glance your way, all zoned in your own worlds as they try to stay awake.

Unless it was raining, then you would see him running for any kind of shelter.

“Tell me,” you muse, “anything promising?”

“That all depends on what you’re looking for,” he smiles, “the entries this year are very promising, I should add.”

Finally making your way into the building, you start down one of the rows, briefly reading off the small cards that line the table. It was intriguing, seeing what the human mind can create. Each one was different, promising innovation and change for the ones who needed it the most. Some were simple, a new irrigation method, a new tool to help with surgery. Others were more intricate, a way to heal broken bones faster, a way to grow taller or thinner in a matter of days.

Heimerdinger continued to talk at your side, keeping with your slow pace. His voice was bright and joyous, a singing tone that contrasted to yours. He spoke enough for the both of you, and as time passed you’d grown accustomed to his hyperactive personality. Always easy to pick out of the crowd, various voices meshing together in one large mass that you tried to ignore.

“The last time I was here,” you break the silence, glancing down at bright blue eyes, “you told me I’d be impressed with the entries.”

He pauses, looking at you with narrowed eyes and a twitching lip, “I was correct then, just as I am correct now-”

“Eh,” you wince, scrunching your face up and rocking a hand side to side, “I’d say-”

He cuts you off, speaking over you, it makes you laugh. Holding your hands in surrender at his stern tone, “New minds bring new innovations, different outlooks that we haven’t thought of. It’s brilliant, what the mind can do without restrictions.”

Stopping at the end of the table, you reach out to grab a small device, painted an array of blues and pinks that resemble a chomping shark. On the side was a pin, your thumb brushing over it, nodding your head once and setting it back down. Next to it was a small card, the dimensions, components, and its purpose all messily written.

“Brilliant. Yet, the council never seizes what can excel the cities.”

Heimerdinger huffs, “Many trials can take years to complete, and other items do not get chosen.”

Humming, you choose not to argue. It was something that would always come up between you both. With him on the council, you liked to poke fun. Liked to make jabbing remarks that would cause his fur to bristle, his foot to stomp. He didn’t pick up on it until years later, and stopped indulging your antics. Tonight, you suppose he forgot. The excitement of young minds filled the air, cheerful laughter and jittering tones that spoke too fast.

The back of the crowd was already making their way into the main ballroom, where all inventors and potential patrons would speak of partnerships and opportunities. Sometimes you wouldn’t even make it to that room, instead heading home after surveying the array of inventions.

“Has the ranking already been released?” You ask, turning down another aisle. Boots tapping against the tiled floor, you brush down the front of your jacket before continuing. Most things mirrored each other, mostly the same except for a slight difference. It makes you smile, seeing the small things added. A simple touch of a difference that brought out the mind of the inventor. A different paint, a different metal, a different bolt or screw. It was all intentional to them, all things different that make them human.

“Ah! Indeed! Announced just before your arrival-” He jumps, reaching into his jacket to bring out a piece of paper. It was pristine, decorated with gold and black ink. He handed it to you with a smile, and you looked over it with a raised eyebrow. From left to right, was the ranking, name, age, and small description of each entry. In tiny numbers besides that, was where each person could be found. You briefly look over each description, coming up empty handed on what you were interested in.

Fourth Place, Ekko ---, 13, ---

Third Place, Powder ---- , 12, ---

Second Place, Jayce ---, 23, ---

First Place, Viktor ---, 24, ---

Your step falters, hand quickly grabbing the edge of the table beside you to right yourself, and you glare at the bolt that slides across the floor. It was a gear, its notches broken and chipped. Heimerdinger hums a light tune under his breath, continuing on his way. He didn’t see you almost fall, didn’t see your eyes narrow and glare at the page in hand before cursing under your breath.

Shivering, you tilt your head to the side and turn the paper over. The back was filled with an array of the named Patrons, Investors, Mages, anyone who could take a beneficiary.

In italicised gold ink, was your name.

Frowning, you glare at Heimerdinger, who continued to make his way to the main room. Perhaps he thought only two rows was enough to look at, he knew what you were here for, after all.

“I’m done here,” you grumble, turning to leave before Heimerdinger shouts your name, walking quickly down the aisle to meet you once more. Gaze stern, he regards you with a frown, “you just got here, I refuse to let you leave.”

“That’s called kidnapping,” you scoff, trying to walk past, but the Yordle stands in your way.

“You’re hardly a child, yet with the way you’re acting right now- I can hardly tell the difference.”

You fake a gasp, placing your free hand onto your chest.

“Heimerdinger, you insult me.”

He ignores you, “you must meet some of the candidates before you leave, who knows- you might find who you’re looking for!”

Sighing deeply, you refuse to look at him, instead turning back around and to stare at the open doors that await you on the other side of the room. You could faintly hear the music that floods through, glasses clinking together as connections are made.

Dropping onto your haunches, you feel your jacket fold behind your knees, puddling around you. His eyes briefly widen, before his hands rest on his hips, beginning to tap against the tiles.

Holding out the paper, you tap the front, finger brushing along the parchment right next to each name.

“See these? The names, small descriptions of what they’ve brought?” His eyes flicker, and you can see the gears turning, before he sighs.

“I do, my dear.”

“What is here that will thrive under my apprenticeship?” Heimerdinger's eyebrows relax, the fur atop his lip drooping slightly. He seems to fully deflate for a moment, and then a spark ignites, and he's set alight with a new vigor.

“If you give a plant no water, will it grow? If you simply look at an unfinished project, how will it come to fruition? You must work for it,” your name is softly spoken, a hand gently placed onto yours.

“Ha,” you laugh, sarcastic, shaking your head and dropping your arms to rest on bent knees.

“If I wanted to water a plant, I wouldn’t be here.”

Sighing, he steps closer to grab your free hand once more, his other coming to gently pat the top.

He was so kind, so gentle with the people around him. All bright colors and curious nature, a mirror to you. Dark colors, disinterested eyes and almost permanent frown.

“Each human is different from the next, you simply have to talk to them. Gage what they want to pursue, and go from there. You’ll find what you’re looking for faster that way, you know.”

Grumbling, you throw him a glare. Standing, you brush off the front of your pants, and turn towards the room once more. Some of the attendees regarded you with curious looks, whispering to their partner while making room for you and Heimerdinger. Others stared with wide eyes, clutching their drink to their chest.

The room itself was beautiful, an open space once used to present statues and large art pieces. They were moved away, replaced with small tables full of small, bite sized, foods and flutes of champagne. Large windows covered the wall to your right, letting in the sun. Thick, red velvet curtains framed them, golden tassels holding the fabric open. Some were cracked, letting in the clean city air.

There was a brief moment you hoped you wouldn’t be recognized, but your attire and companion gave you away entirely.

Piltover was the city of progress, its people dressing as such. With bright colors of gold and white, displaying their house sigils proudly on their own attire, all sparkling and proudly presenting themselves. You didn’t have a house here, didn’t have a name, you didn’t wear Piltover's colors. Keeping your gaze forwards, you try to ignore their intrusive gazes.

The room itself was chilly, and you reached to pull your jacket tighter around you. It was a deep blue, silver threading and embellishments decorating the front and back. It reached down to your boots, the material slightly billowing behind you as you walked.

You make your way to the edge of the room, and politely smile at a few young faces who continue to stare. Wearing the academy uniform, you wonder if Heimerdinger would recognize them, but the student body was much too vast now to remember each new face. They each blush, quickly turning back to whoever they were talking to while walking away. Soon, it was only you and Heimerdinger, who continued to smile like nothing was wrong.

“Why are they looking at me like that?” You ask softly, hands clasping behind your back, paper still in hand.

Heimerdinger chuckles, “you’re rarely seen in the city, and you wonder why everyone is so curious?”

“I hate being a spectacle,” grumbling, you turn to look at anything else. Trying to ignore the lingering gazes, the whispers that include your name.

“Maybe,” he gasps, “you should visit more! Oh, now wouldn’t that just be lovely?”

Scowling, you glare, shifting your stance to hiss under your breath, “oh, you’d like that wouldn't you? You little demon.”

He laughs to himself, waving you off, “you just might come to adore the city the longer you frequent. The City of Progress is ever changing, my dear.”

Ignoring him, you try and make out the faces from one another. Some councilors were present, all with a champagne flute in hand as they talked to academy students, other investors, even potential partners that could benefit for their own gain.

One boy, though, all smiling and bright eyed, continued to talk with a small group of students. The one who caught your eye, though, wore the silver medal of second place around his neck. He had a small device in hand, twisting and maneuvering it around to explain to the others how it functioned. Dark hair pushed back haphazardly, tan skin that seemed to glow under the light, he was a handsome young man.

“What of Jayce-“ you squint, “Jayce Talis?”

Heimerdinger makes a questioning sound, following your line of sight before whistling, the end trailing off, “The beneficiary of House Kiramman, I’m afraid.”

“Hm, not swayable, then?”

He only waves you off, “he seems to be prospering under their care- what of Ekko and Powder?” he’s pointing to a young duo opposite Jayces' group. Sitting at one of the small tables, drinks untouched. They were consumed in a hushed conversation, both staring inquisitively down at an open notebook. Short blue hair stopping just under her shoulders, the young girl bites at her nails. The dress she wore was violet, flowing just past her knees. It matched the pink stripe in her hair perfectly.

The boy, though, was in an academy uniform, white hair pulled away from his face. Dark skin, kind eyes, his leg tapping anxiously.

“Ekko and Powder?” You parrot, and Heimerdinger makes a noise in the back of his throat.

“Best not to separate them,” he stops short, quickly recovering “They work well in tandem, bouncing off each other as if they were small balls of energy. You’d find most progress with both.”

That wouldn’t do; you sigh. Looking back to Jayce’s group, you briefly meet his eyes. A bright hazel that shimmered with energy. He falters in what he was saying, eyes darting between you and Heimerdinger before he frantically looks back to one of his friends. Sighing, you kiss along your teeth. There was no shaking the eyes you would spot in the crowd, clinging to you. They would quickly disappear, blushing and whispering. This part, you hated the most. All the people, staring and whispering. It made you feel small, scrutinized under them. Were some of them judging you for arriving late? Were they wondering when you’d accept a new apprentice? Closing your eyes, you try to level yourself. It wouldn’t do you any good to drag yourself through turmoil.

“You mentioned a number of them requested an audience?”

“Ah!” he jumps, clapping his hands once, before scurrying away and into the crowd.

You tried to keep yourself steady as student after student was brought to you. Some were smiling, blushing as they offered you their hand politely. The conversations were dragging, them speaking of their ambitions and dreams before being silenced by your raised hand. Some would grow teary, words dying off like the light in their eyes.

“I’m sorry,” you’d smile, a sympathetic tone wrapping your rejection, “Your ambitions, although bright, do not align with what I’m looking for.”

Some took it better than others, shaking your hand once before departing with disappointed faces and sagging shoulders. Heimerdinger would throw you a glare, ask what was wrong with them, if you were doing it just for spite. Each time, you’d shrug, “they cannot give me what I need, Heimerdinger.”

One girl was promising, Sky Young. She dazzled you with her beauty, crossing her arms and smiling brightly. She had freckles that covered her full cheeks when she spoke, glasses that reflected a dreary image of you. Life danced across her face with each word she spoke, a desire to discover, to create. She offered to show you her ideas, what she had brought as her entry. Her smile didn’t falter when you declined, and for once, you could feel hope dance its way between your ribs.

Until she mentioned her schooling, and how she’d want to continue innovating and creating.

With a heavy heart, you reluctantly rejected her. She took it respectfully, dipping her head.

“I have one more idea, although he did not request an audience,” he sighed, before he departed once more. For, hopefully, the final time tonight.

Towards the two hour mark, you find yourself standing with your eyes closed, listening to your own breathing and the chatter of conversation around you. The windows had been closed, the sun shining directly through and casting shadows of people along the floor. The music was a repeat of around ten songs, you discovered, and on the seventh song you heard Heimerdinger approaching, the distinctive tapping of a cane following.

My dear!” Heimerdinger sings, stopping to stand between you both. Smiling forcefully, you ignore the onsetting headache as you look over the man in front of you. Loose pants on long slender legs, a vest that clung to a lithe waist. Fingers that gripped a golden medal, and the pommel of a cane. The ladder made your skin prickle.

Eyes scanning higher, gliding over the grey tie that fits his throat, brown hair that almost curls around his ears, and dazzling honey gold eyes that stare back at you with unwavering certainty. Shoulders relaxed, the man seemed to be studying you as well.

“This is Viktor-“ drowning out his voice, you bite down on your tongue. Heat builds across your back, sharp claws digging into your skin to drag its way over your shoulders. Fatigue deep within your bones, you clasp your hands behind your back.

“A pleasure, truly. Madam?” He smiles, it doesn't reach his eyes.

Speaking your name plainly, you tilt your head, eyes narrowed, “congratulations on first place. I don’t remember seeing you in attendance last time I was here, are you a new student?”

“Viktor has been my assistant for some time, working under my watchful eye while he completes his studies. Though, he’s one of my top students!”

A hum, and you decide to look at anything but the man in front of you. Stomach turning, you wished for a drink. No doubt, if you could drink the bubbling champagne, you would’ve had five glasses by now. Your head moves towards the windows and when your eyes catch the light, Viktor catches a flash of red tint. He almost shivers, smile wavering and as quickly as you look away, you’re back to watching him intently.

“Your patron must be proud, working under Heimerdinger personally.”

He waves you off, and Heimerdinger gives you a curious look, gloved hands clasping in front of him, “Viktor has no patron, dear friend.”

Eyebrows rising, you look back at the younger, who was glancing at the painting behind you. Pushing the wings of your coat open, you slide your cold hands into your pockets, paper still in hand. It was folded, now hidden away. You skim your finger over one of four points, pressing it into the pad of your index before retreating.

“You’ve no patron? Can I ask why?”

It was a first, seeing someone so young without the guidance of a Patron. Every one you had met, were almost all students. They each were vying for one, asking for guidance to help with their research. Viktor, though, had seemingly made it far enough by himself.

Hands boxing his vest, he only shrugs, “Eh,” he hums, “I find it more fulfilling to work by myself. I simply assist the professor with miniscule tasks when needed.”

You wince, “I apologize on his behalf, then.”

“You insult me! Viktor works diligently and without complaint, thank you,” Heimerdinger gasps, crossing his arms.

The pair of you chuckle, and before you stop yourself, you find a smile curling around your features, “I commend you, I can barely stay around him for too long before i get a headache.”

“Have you known the Professor long? You speak as if you’re close?”

Your smile falls, and Viktor wonders if he’s spoken out of line. A melancholy look floods your features, and you look to Heimerdinger, “I’ve known him almost my whole life. He’s been a close confidant to me in my times of need, surely as his assistant, you can agree?”

“I can, his guidance has helped me with my personal work.”

“Any success?” You can feel the answer already swelling between you both, and with a disappointed shake of his head, Viktor tenses his shoulders, “Only on paper, the council deems experimentation ‘too soon’”

A small bout of anger pools in your chest, such a brilliant mind, condemned to a rigorous routine of theory after theory, faux solution; one after the other to show a group of councillors, not even proficient in the field of study, what they deem to be ‘safe’. How has such a promising city made so much progress, if minds such as his were forced to sit patiently?

“Isn’t the city of progress supposed to encourage, I don’t know- progress?” Rolling your shoulders back, you give Heimerdinger a pointed look.

“Safety must always come first, dear friend! Not everyone can go into their back yard and ignite an explosion.” He shoots an equally devious expression your way. Viktor clears his throat, shooting Heimerdinger a warning glance. You smirk, and with a tilt of your head you ask teasingly, “have you blown something up, Viktor?”

“My work can sometimes cause an unwanted chain reaction, It’s not as if I want to cause an explosion.”

“‘Sometimes’? Do you regularly almost blow up buildings? What does your work entail for you, hm?”

Cheeks burning, Viktor avoids your eyes, silently cursing the professor for bringing up the select few times an experiment went awry.

“I want to help the people who need it most, and end the suffering of the common person. My work includes basic machines and tools that could make everyday life more simple, like mine-workers. Why let outdated, faulty machines cause more suffering, when something more reliable and simple can help?”

You're smiling, looking down quickly to slide the toe of your boot across the tiles. It's brief, but it allows you to gather your thoughts, “that’s certainly an ambition.”

“Reminds me of someone, no?” Heimerdinger nudges your leg, and you wave him away. Viktor’s eyes roam your features, “You’re also a scientist?”

“I… used to be, when I was young. Now, I simply provide the necessary equipment for the work to continue. Of course, I oversee it, but I refrain from interfering.” Sliding your hands from your pockets, you flip the now crumpled piece of paper through your fingers.

“Her apprentices thrive, my boy. You should see the work others have accomplished with the tools she offers!.”

“An apprenticeship?” Viktor looked slightly confused, nose scrunching as he shifted his footing to settle more comfortably. Silent, you nod. Knowingly, you refrained from saying anything else. Your neck was starting to hurt, back aching from standing in one place for so long.

You could have walked around, mingled with others. Yet, what good would it do? Talking with polite faces that would only speak willfully of you behind your back, fake laughter and fake bonding that would, truly, get you nowhere in this society.

You’d much rather suffer the consequences of stagnation when Viktor looked at you with unhidden emotion. He didn’t try to cover them up with indifference. He bares his emotions without vulnerability, how his eyes narrow and eyebrows furrow, how his nose scrunches in annoyance, how his lips tilt in barely-hidden amusement. You can see it all flicker across his face, moments in time captured by another person’s eyes. It's familiar, you realize, how simple humans truly could be.

“Mm,” you scrunch your face, not liking the term so carelessly thrown around, “I call it a beneficial agreement.”

“Have you found any success?” Viktor retorts, smiling softly at the way you soften in disappointment. Much like his own, you yearn for a solution.

“I have not, my previous apprentice made great advances in his research. He had a great mind, I wish to find one similar.”

Your friend, though, deemed it a perfect time to raise his own voice, “Would something like that interest you, my boy? I theorize your research would thrive much more with her, rather than me.”

Ice water, poured directly over your head.

“Heimerdinger-“

“Professor-“

Honey gold meets yours, and you promptly raise a hand. It’s familiar how you both regard each other. Too comfortable, you were the one who had to cut it here.

“While I appreciate the gesture,” a warning issued within the group, blaring red, “I cannot find it within myself to consider someone who isn’t interested in the slightest.”

Viktor bites his cheek. Was he interested? He was secure with his position as Heimerdinger's assistant, yet the idea of being able to thrive in his field without watchful eyes sounded very appealing. Even Heimerdinger himself seemed thrilled at the idea of such a position for him.

“Who said I wasn’t interested?”

Kissing your teeth, taking a small step backwards, hand settling itself back at your side.

“Even if you were, I’d have to politely decline.”

Viktor, for once, finds himself at a loss for words. It’s like you’ve completely changed within the second Heimerdinger mentioned the possibility of him working under you.

“Decline? Miss,“ Heimerdinger steps closer, but you send a glare his way. It doesn’t hinder his stubbornness, “Viktor is more than qualified to take on the responsibility!”

“He isn’t-“ you stop short, head tilting as you look him over; Mulling over words that could express how against this you truly were. You look at his shoes, his cane, his chest, and finally his eyes. Curious and inviting, so alive with ambition and determination.

“He isn’t the right fit.”

Heimerdinger almost laughs, “Right fit? Viktor is my assistant, he has enough determination and willpower to climb the ranks of Piltover! Where others would falter, Viktor thrives. Even with his first time attending, the boy has won first place!”

A sense of pride, Viktor smiles, but your huff of annoyance at the statement makes the emotion fade.

“You’re correct, He’s the assistant to the dean of the academy, doing just fine for himself, as you say.”

“He could be much more, and you know this just as well as I do.”

The beginning of an argument is swelling, both Heimerdinger and you sharing glares and scowls. You’ve taken to crossing your arms, all but ignoring Viktor to turn your attention to the Yordle. Top lip twitching, Heimerdinger almost stomps his foot, “must you make things so difficult?”

You laugh, hands rubbing harshly at your eyes, sarcastically smiling, “first place doesn’t really mean anything, his ambition is too straight forward-”

“My ambition has gotten me this far, miss. If I was willing, I could get farther.”

“So you agree?” gaze narrow, you turn to him with sternness, “you choose to stay stagnant in your current position?”

It's his turn to flare with annoyance, and his eyebrows furrow, “No, I choose to benefit from my current position.”

“The boy is learning, absorbing the information that he gets his hands on. Working under you, he would be exposed to a plethora of material- he would rise higher than he ever could working under me.”

You raise a hand, and suddenly Heimerdinger breathes a heavy sigh, “Viktor, you have a brilliant mind, and a unique outlook. Yet, you do not fit the qualification I’ve set for the position.”

“My dear-” you pointedly glared, and he fell silent, “I wish you the best of luck in your research, now if you’ll excuse me gentleman, I have overstayed my welcome.”

Ignoring the calls of your name, you make your way back to the front of the building. Someone tries to step in your path, but with a tilt of your shoulder you easily slide past them, shortly turning them down with a not-so-pleasant glare.

You had lost yourself in how easy-going it was to converse with Viktor, almost forgetting why you were there in the first place. In reality, he was the most promising individual you’ve come across. Yet, you couldn’t find it within yourself to take him from the place he thrives most. He wanted to change the city for the better, pursuing actual innovation. How could Heimerdinger cast upon you the decision to ask him to leave his home? To cast aside his well earned position?

Your carriage was still waiting patiently among the others. The sun was starting to set, casting golden rays through the trees that lined the street. There was a man on stilts slowly walking down the street, lighting the lamps that stood tall. The footman smiles when seeing you, opening the door and offering you his hand.

Settling yourself down in the uncomfortable seating, you look over the paper, crumpled and folded one to many times. The edges were worn with your fiddling, and slowly you unfold it to look over the seemingly never ending list of names.

First place, Viktor —-

There's a small sliding door that sits between you and the coachman, a little bigger than the size of your hand. Silver hinges with small ornate detailing, and a matching silver latch that swung side to side during the bumpy rides. It slides open smoothly, green eyes and white bushy eyebrows gaze back with a softness akin to a grandfather.

“Where to, my lady?”

Clearing your throat, swallowing thickly, you toss the paper onto the seat beside you. Relaxing, you breathe deeply and take one final look at the museum, “take me home.”

“As you wish, my lady”

------

Your home was large enough to house a great family, yet only you remained. The halls were dark, two wings once occupied with life. Now, only a few rooms from each were used. The library was full of unread books, your laboratory untouched by your hands for years. Your office was where you mainly resided. In front of the windows that climbed up to your ceiling, filling the room with dimmed light that cascaded over the misty hills. The estate's walls were cold, its occupants bundling with layers to defend themselves from sickness. You’ve grown used to it, but your staff still wandered around with pink noses and thick shawls.

One member of the staff, Miss Aleena, was one of the few who remained. Her grey eyes regarded you with warmth, wrinkles and tired smile showing her years. She was slower, yet still refused to rest. She continued with her work day after day, and sometimes kept you company during her downtime. She made her way around your office easily, stepping over thrown books and crumpled pieces of paper. All to set a wine glass on your desk, though what filled it was not wine.

“Three animals today, my lady. Deer, fox, or rabbit?”

You hum, still gazing at the rolling hills. The glass was held together with silver framing, a thick set of curtains hanging from the ceiling and pooling on the carpeted floor. Holding out your hand, you wait until she picks the glass back up to set it into your hand. The surface was painted with flowers, all faded. You lift it to your nose, sniffing once before grimacing.

“Rabbit.”

She chuckles, reaching out to tap your cheek. You almost wave her away, but these were moments you rarely receive. To have another person touch you, human warmth was like no other.

Spinning in your chair, you set the glass back down and slouch, rubbing harshly at your eyes. Miss Aleena makes her way to the chair that sits in front of your desk, slowly descending with a huff. She doesn’t say anything, rarely does. Instead, she lets you fill the silence with whatever words you want. Her hair, salt and pepper, was pulled back from her slim face. Grey eyes comforting as they watch you, never judging.

“I’m not thirsty.”

You were lying, of course. The churning of your stomach was the dead give away, and she raises an eyebrow at you in retort. Slowly, you reach out to grab the glass once more, raising it to take a small sip.

Blood tastes different with each animal. Rabbit, for example, was sweeter than deer, yet more tart than fox. It starts as a treat, warm and inviting, until you swallow and are greeted with the kick at the end. Wincing, you groan. Shivering at the taste, you take another small drink. It was never good to drink too much at a time, you’ve learned the hard way.

“I don’t know why the gods forsake me,” you grumble, “I ask for a simple thing. One thing, yet time and time again I’m rejected and turned away. Something is always blocking this path, and for whatever reason, I cannot get past it.”

“Maybe it’s something you shouldn't pursue,” her timid voice responds, and you shake your head. Center of your lips stained red, you cross your legs.

“Do you know what it's like to live for 800 years?”

She smiles, “I know what it��s like for 73.”

“Its a living torture,” you smirk, and she hums. “I cannot sleep, cannot eat or drink what you do. I cannot fall in love, I cannot feel happiness-”

“And why is that, my lady?”

You huff, chest squeezing, “it is a fleeting thing, happiness, love. A human can love their entire life, and feel fulfilled by the end. Humans have the pleasure of an ending, while I live in a purgatory specifically designed for me. No matter how hard I try, I simply cannot die.”

You take another drink, looking over the small pile of papers still left on your desk. Requests and letters signed with black ink mock you, the dates in the top corners taunting.

“Tell me, then,” she requests, “when you’ve fallen in love.”

The question makes your shoulders tense, flashes of memories blinking past your eyes. Years upon years of memories, yet they all boil down to moments in your life.

“I-” you clear your throat, “I can’t remember what love feels like. I suppose feelings fade with time,” you look down into your glass, your reflection staring back.

Miss Aleena sighs, “my dear, I may not be as old as you, but I am still old. I know what love looks like,” she stands from her chair, brushing off the front of her dress.

“Indulge me, what does it look like?”

“It looked like that gleam in your eyes, my lady.”

Head tilting, you watch a smile creep across her face. Chuckling, you rub your thumb along the top of your hand, cold as always. Miss Aleena reached out, gesturing to your almost empty cup, “would you like a refill?”

You shake your head, and watch as she turns to make your way back to the door. Spinning, you turn your gaze back to the misty hills, how the sun tries to break through, and tries to wrap a golden blanket around the trees that border your land.

“Maybe I should just have you find me someone.”

Miss Aileena laughed, old and tired, she sounded like her mother, “I think that’s a terrible idea.”

“How so? You’re a great observer, and you follow my instructions without retort!”

“I don’t know much about science, my lady. If I were to bring someone in, you would find something inadequate.”

She was right, and you knew it.

The door opens, and a male voice clears his throat. You almost groan, instead you rest your elbow on the arm of your chair, supporting your head on a clenched fist.

“My lady?” It was Benedict, who’s voice matched his appearance. Silky and smooth, all fine cursive lines that dance across his body. You can hear his smile as he looks at Miss Aleena.

“Ah, hello nana,” he says softly, before the door creaks and he coughs.

“What is it, Benedict?” Nails tapping, your head rolls to rest against the chair. His body straightens, green eyes roaming over your desk. His cheeks were pink, and he sniffled before speaking.

“You have a visitor- I told him you didn’t take guests, but he was very adamant on seeing you.”

Your tongue lightly grazes your canines, feeling the sharp points. You can barely remember the last time you used them, opting for your kitchen to hunt and gather your drinks.

They, your hunter, would leave in the morning when the dew still clung to the grass. They’d gather enough animals to last the following week, put them in the freezer, and then go back to their home in the village. Of course, you offered housing here, but it only took them one look at the vine covered rocks to politely decline.

“How adamant?” You tease, hearing Benedict huff, his clothes rustling.

“He said he wouldn’t leave until he had an audience with you.”

“Hm,” you muse, using your foot to sway the chair back and forth slightly.

“Let him in, then”

Benedict nods, shaggy hair falling in front of his eyes as he backs from the room, heavy steps receding down the hallway. Miss Aileen’s heels click across the wood as she crosses the room, picking books up from the floor and setting them gently back onto your desk.

It takes a moment, but soon you can hear the incoming tap of a cane, and the hushed voices from beyond your closed door.

Hair raising, you refuse to turn in your chair as the door opens once more. Tensing, you can feel your chest clench until his voice tears through the room- assertive and commanding.

“You have to have a certain kind of nerve to accuse me of not being qualified enough to work under you.”

Your hand drops from your chin, hanging over the arm. Finger running across the tips of your nails, you refrain from sighing.

“What are you doing here, Viktor?”

“I simply find it unacceptable to push me aside and call me unqualified to work under you simply because of my status and ability to do what is required,” his tone is accusatory, anger surrounding him. Slowly, you find your eyebrows furrowing. Your head drops to the side, and you look at him from over your shoulder, chair slightly turned as to not hurt your neck.

His cheeks are flushed, eyebrows pinched together in anger as he leans against his cane. Miss Aileen stands to the side, eyes wide as she looks at him. His golden eyes falter when they meet yours, flickering between your dazzling gaze. When you turn the chair more, the sun that barely peaks through the clouds catches them, red shining through briefly.

It makes him shiver, how predatory your gaze was.

“Miss Aileen, please give us the room,” you don’t break eye contact, instead turning the chair so you face him fully. It gives him the charm to look you over, from your relaxed attire to the red tint that stains your lips.

Makeup? No, he thinks, your attire betrays the need for makeup. You were home, relaxed enough to not find the need for it. Eyes flicker to the desk, landing on the almost empty glass.

Ah, the wine.

“Say again?”

He huffs, feeling that anger flare in his stomach and he stands tall once more, why was he here? He didn’t quite know, following that gut instinct to follow you and prove that he was right for the role he still knew nothing about.

“I have worked too hard to get where I am today to simply be pushed aside due to prejudice from a person whom I’ve never even met-“

“You think prejudice is the reason for my rejection?” There’s a flicker of disappointment, a sadness that festers behind it. You sigh, rubbing at your eyes before sitting up in your chair, “Viktor, listen,” your voice is softer this time, sharp edge dulled.

“You want to create things, bring goodness to the world. My task is the complete opposite-“

“How can you come to that conclusion when you haven’t even asked me for my opinion on the matter? For a scientist, you come to conclusions rather abruptly.”

Shoulders sagging, you reach out and grasp your wine glass, the thick liquid-

Thick liquid?

Viktor watches as you take a sip, the sides of the glass stained a deep ruby red as it settles back at the bottom. It’s crimson, shining in the light and the true answer to what sits in the glass whispers itself in his ear softly.

“Is that blood?”

You smile, a sad tilt of lips, raising the glass in a congratulation before setting it back down. You push yourself from the chair, silk gown dancing around you like a breeze, it makes it seem like you are floating, gliding your way around the desk to lean against it.

“If it is? What would you do, Viktor?”

His breath catches in his throat, and he mulls over what he could possibly say.

“If I told you, my life goes against the natural order, would you believe me?”

Your hands brace behind you, feet crossing at the ankles as you regard him with a glint in your eyes. You're assessing him. Watching as his eyes flicker around you, watch as he tenses, jaw clenching. Watch as his hand grips the pommel of his cane just a little tighter, how he leans away from you.

“Since you think yourself qualified, I’ll give you my symptoms and you come up with a theory as to what I am cursed with,” you spit the words. Viktor finds himself nodding, going against his own natural order as you push away from the desk. Making your way to the tall book shelf that lined the walls, your fingers skin across the fabric spines of book after book. Shoes muted by the carpet, you move silently.

“I cannot sleep, I cannot get sick, from what you’ve just noticed; I drink blood.” Slowing, you curl your finger around the top of a book, pulling it gently from its place. It was almost fully black, silver edging flaking off. A red piece of ribbon, frayed at the end, was hanging from the top edge. A book mark ready for use, he guessed.

“I live longer than normal humans, and I cannot die.”

Silence, and you refrain from moving from the wall of books. You seem to fit in perfectly, a timeless beauty. Yet, as he looks away to gaze back at the cup of blood, he sighs.

“Common, Viktor,” you whisper, teasing, “you were so vocal earlier. What happened?”

“I shouldn’t have come here,” he murmurs, taking a step back because now you’re right in front of him. Holding that book out for him to take, “no, you shouldn’t have. Now, you have to face the consequences of your own pride.”

Hesitant, he takes the book, looking over the cover and when he registers the words sewn into the fabric he almost laughs.

“A vampire?”

“Mm,” you hum, crossing your arms as you make your way back to your desk, leaning back. He tilts the book, letting it fall open to a random page. He briefly reads over it, pictures hand drawn, cursive words in a foreign language underneath. The paper was tinged yellow, wrinkled on the edges like it’d been thrown into a bath of water and then dried again.

“An immortal scientist passing down knowledge through their apprentices, what an ambition,” he mocks your words, snapping the book shut and looking back up. You’re frowning, and after turning your upper body to grab the glass, you twist it to allow the little remaining liquid to coat the sides. Faded blue flowers in front of a wave of blood, you don't look at him anymore, shoulders slumped.

“I don’t teach them, I simply have a task for them to complete. In return, they’re given access to my abundance of gathered knowledge.”

“And what is this task I’m so unqualified for, exactly?”

“Viktor,” you sigh, eyes closing. He can feel his chest squeeze, and he breathes deeply before continuing, “how do you know I’m unwilling to help you?”

“Help me? Viktor, if you had the opportunity to create death, would you?”

“Death?” His eyebrows furrow, and when you nod he can slowly see the pieces falling into place. The book feels heavy in hand, his thumb gently rubbing across the indented words that title the front.

The Known Ways Of Vanquishing A Vampire

“I want to die, and I cannot touch the tools that will create it. I need someone to do it for me, so I’ll ask again; if you had the opportunity to create death, would you?”

His brain tells him to decline. His whole life, he’s sworn to help people survive. To bring them longer life, to cure them of the hindrance that plagues them. Yet, his gut urges him to look at you. To see what you truly looked like, he can see your fatigue. He can see how your shoulders slouch, how slow you really move. To others, you were a monster. A demon who comes at night to drink their bodies dry. To him, in the moment, he simply saw a woman cursed. Forever to wander, never to truly rest.

“Are you suffering?” His voice is quiet. Lips lifting, you nod once, “yes, Viktor.”

Fingers tapping once against his cane, his gut overrides his brain, and he speaks his decision into the air with a stern voice.

“Then I will help you.”

Although there’s hesitation clinging to you, you speak with a soft voice, “let’s get started then, shall we?”

Want to be tagged? comment or send a message! ill gladly tag you <3

#viktor x reader #arcane x reader #viktor imagines #viktor arcane x reader #arcane #viktor arcane #fluff #angst #The Apprentice #HwaWrites #arcane imagine #viktor x you

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beomiracles · 3 days ago

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Beomie (man is just sick in my head i can't think of anybody else in txt able to do this) as the captor. Sickly arranging play hunt or hide and seek every month just for the thrill of it, making it super realistic and possible for his girl to escape but she always fails.

are u insane lol. I love this. full fic on this one when?

tw, kidnapping, imprisonment, prey/predator, beomgyu is lowkey very insane, injuries/blood.

your fingers dig into the soil, dirt gathering under your nails as you crawl forward. it was dark, you could barely make out the path ahead, but you knew that you had to keep going. his laugh, sinister and maniac, echoes around you, but where it's coming from you can't tell.

it was futile, you knew that much. he would do this every single time. he would feed you with hope, he would make you believe that this time, this time you actually had a chance. ― but he would never let you go, this was all part of his games.

still, as the light of the main road comes into vision, you slowly find yourself filled with that very hope. you crawl with newfound desperation, ignoring the flaring pain that shot through your bleeding leg. ― freedom was within your grasp.

"h-help..!" your voice is hoarse, strained thanks to the effort it took just to move forward. "someone help me!"

a branch snaps somewhere behind you, and your blood runs cold. beomgyu's voice echoes through the dark trees, the sound is sickening to your ears. ― "warm or cold?" he sing-songs, his light and cherry tone laced with malice.

you don't reply, intent on following the dim light ahead as you fight for your freedom, for your life. ― "oh come on now, give me a hint!" the demand is followed by a chuckle that made the leaves on the trees turn away. the whole forest cowered at the sound.

tears flow down your cheeks, and you bite down on your lip hard enough to draw blood, anything to stop yourself from making noise. this would be the time you actually made it, this would be your salvation. you would finally be free of him and you-

"warm."

his voice is closer now, a lot closer. fuck, how did he manage to trail you like this. you pick up your pace, your arms scraping the cold and hard ground as you crawl forward. you're panting, loud enough for him to hear you're certain of that.

bushes rustle behind you, twigs snapping and his sinister fucking laugh ringing in your ears. ― "warmer..." you can make out his voice perfectly now, he couldn't be far.

but the road was so close, it was just there, just within reach. you see cars passing, their strong headlights blinding you as they drive by. this time you don't care anymore, you scream at the top of your lungs, begging and pleading for someone to help you, to save you.

"please! please help me!" ― "help please!"

it's to no avail. there was no one coming for you now. you had no one to rely on but yourself. groaning in pain, you struggle forward, sweat pooling on your forehead and running down the sides of your face. ― "warmer!" he sounds excited, almost squealing now.

desperation consumes you, terror and fright pulsating with each furious beat of your heart. just a little more...just a tiny bit more...

a firm hand wraps around your ankle, his grip harsh and unforgiving. you freeze, your heart practically stopping as all hope vanishes within the blink of an eye. ― beomgyu's chuckle is low as it rumbles within his chest, and you can feel his hot breath against your neck.

"gotcha."

he yanks you backward and you let out an ear piercing scream as the lights of the road ahead shrink until they're no longer within sight. ― beomgyu flips you onto your back, his dark and wide pupils meeting your terrified eyes.

"you lost", he states, a wide grin plastered across his face. your stomach drops, and you struggle to swallow a big fat gulp. beomgyu's fingers are hot against your cheek as he turns you face in his hands. "it's alright.." he murmurs as he leans in to press a soft kiss to your lips. you cringe at the action.

"I'll let you try again next month."

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oaksgrove · 13 hours ago

Text

Charmed by Two

pairing: John Price x singlemom!Reader

synopsis: When John Price steps into your life, he’s not just falling for you—he’s falling for your spirited 4-year-old daughter, too. Without a father figure in sight, Price finds himself enchanted by the little girl’s charm and innocence. As he slowly earns her trust with bedtime stories, backyard adventures, and a well-placed British wit, he also finds himself falling deeper for you. But his determination to impress you both comes with a question: can he truly be the man you both deserve?

word count: 1574

warnings: Fluff, mild angst (discussions of past relationships), Price’s fatherly charm, emotional moments, and a lot of found-family vibes.

John Price had been in plenty of tight spots before—ambushes, firefights, missions that left him questioning if he’d make it home. He’d spent most of his adult life on the battlefield, navigating dangerous situations and making life-or-death decisions. But nothing, absolutely nothing, compared to the delicate operation of holding a tiny pink teacup in his calloused hands, pinky out, under the watchful eye of a four-year-old who was beaming up at him like he’d just hung the moon.

"Mr. Price," she said with all the seriousness her little voice could muster, "you’re not holding it right. Your pinky has to stick out like this!" She demonstrated, her tiny pinky jutting out at an angle as she lifted her cup of imaginary tea.

John chuckled, his deep laugh rumbling through his chest, and she giggled in response. "Right, right," he said, mimicking her movements, awkwardly extending his pinky. "Like a proper gentleman, yeah?"

"Yes!" she exclaimed, her curls bouncing as she nodded.

"Careful," your daughter warned, her tiny brows furrowing in a perfect imitation of your serious face. "You can’t spill it. This is very important tea."

"Got it, ma’am," he replied, his gravelly voice warm with humor. His pinky stuck out awkwardly as he mimicked her movements, holding the teacup steady. "Wouldn’t want to ruin the most important tea of the year."

She giggled, her curls bouncing as she leaned forward to pour another round of imaginary tea from her plastic teapot. "It’s the best tea in the world," she declared.

Price didn’t miss a beat, bringing the empty cup to his lips and sipping with exaggerated gusto. "Ah, perfect brew. You’re a natural, love. Could open your own tea shop."

Her eyes lit up, and she beamed at him like he’d just handed her the moon. "Really? You’d come to my tea shop?"

"Every day," he said solemnly. "I’d be your best customer."

From the doorway, you watched the scene unfold, your heart swelling at the sight. You hadn’t expected John to bond so easily with your daughter. When you’d first introduced them, you’d been nervous—terrified, even. She was your world, and letting someone into her life wasn’t something you did lightly. But John had stepped into the role with a natural ease that left you in awe.

It wasn’t just the little things, like playing tea parties or reading her bedtime stories. It was the way he listened to her, the way he knelt to her level when she spoke, the way he made her feel important. He had a quiet patience with her that made your chest ache, especially knowing how her father had never shown her the same.

"More tea, sir?" your daughter asked, holding out the teapot.

"Don’t mind if I do," he replied, holding out his cup with a grin.

She poured the imaginary tea with the utmost concentration, her tongue peeking out of the corner of her mouth. When she finished, she beamed up at him. "There! Now you have to drink it all, or it’s bad manners."

"Bad manners, eh?" He raised an eyebrow, feigning seriousness. "Well, can’t have that."

He brought the empty cup to his lips, making an exaggerated sipping sound, then smacked his lips. "Ah, that’s the best tea I’ve ever had."

She erupted into giggles, her laughter filling the room.

You couldn’t help but smile as you leaned against the doorframe. When he glanced up and caught your eye, his expression softened. He gave you a small, almost shy smile, as if to say, I’m trying my best.

And he was.

Later that evening, after your daughter had been tucked into bed and the house had fallen quiet, You found John in the kitchen, rinsing out the teacups she’d insisted on washing after the party. He looked up as you entered, a dish towel slung over one shoulder.

"Tea party wear you out?" you teased.

He chuckled, running a hand through his hair. "She’s got more energy than I do, that’s for sure."

"She adores you, you know," you said softly, your gaze steady on him.

His eyes flicked to yours, something tender and vulnerable in his expression. "Yeah?"

You nodded. "She talks about you all the time. Says you’re her hero."

The corner of his mouth quirked up, but there was a weight behind his smile. "She’s a good kid. Smart, too. You’ve done a hell of a job with her."

"Thank you," you murmured, your chest tightening. "But you’re the one she looks at like that now. Like you’re her whole world."

His eyes distant for a moment before he turned to you. "I’ve never had anything like this before," he admitted. "Never thought I’d… fit into something like this. But I want to. For her. For you."

Tears pricked at your eyes, and you reached out to his arm. "You do fit, John. Better than I ever imagined."

He squeezed your hand, his voice low and steady. "I know I can’t replace… I know I’m not her dad. But I’ll do right by her, for as long as you’ll let me."

You leaned your head against his shoulder, your heart full. "I wouldn’t want it any other way."

You smiled despite yourself, but you couldn’t help but feel a pang of something deeper.

This wasn’t the first time he’d spent an afternoon entertaining your daughter, but it was the first time you let yourself really think about what it meant. He wasn’t just playing along; he was present in a way you hadn’t expected. In a way that scared you.

This wasn’t something you’d planned for. When you’d first met John, you’d been cautious. He was older, gruff, and came with the kind of baggage you knew could complicate things. And you had your daughter to think about—her safety, her happiness. Letting someone into her life wasn’t just a decision for you; it was a decision for both of you.

And yet, here he was looking at your daughter like she was the most important person in the world. It was endearing, yes, but it also scared you. What if this didn’t last? What if he decided this wasn’t the life he wanted?

You closed your eyes as you tried to steady your breathing. The logical part of you knew John cared, but the quieter, more insecure part of you couldn’t help but question if this was all temporary. Was he here for you? For her? Or just because it was easy right now?

"Love, you alright?"

His voice startled you, and you quickly wiped your hands on your jeans, pretending you hadn’t been lost in your thoughts. He was looking directly at you, the tiara still perched on his head, though slightly askew. His eyes were soft, a mixture of curiosity and concern.

"Yeah," you said quickly, offering him a small smile. "Just… thinking."

"You’ve got that look," he murmured.

"What look?"

"The one you get when you’re overthinking something," he said, his lips quirking up into a small smile. "Want to tell me about it?"

You hesitated, biting your lip as you glanced past him toward the living room, where your daughter was now busy rearranging her tea set. "She really likes you," you said quietly.

John didn’t respond right away. Instead, he tilted his head, studying you carefully. "And you’re worried about that?"

You let out a shaky breath. "She’s already been let down once. I don’t want her to get attached if…" Your voice trailed off, and you shook your head, looking away.

"If I leave?" he finished gently.

You nodded, feeling a lump rise in your throat. "It’s not just about her, though," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "It’s about me, too."

His expression softened, and he reached out to take your hands in his. "Look at me, love."

You did, your chest tightening at the sincerity in his eyes. "She’s brilliant, smart as a whip, full of life… she reminds me of you."

"I know I can’t erase what she’s been through," he said quietly. "And I know I can’t promise to be perfect. But I’m here because I want to be. For her. For you. I’m not going anywhere." he continued, his voice low and steady.

You blinked up at him, searching his face for any hint of doubt, but there was none. Tears stung your eyes, and you bit your lip, trying to keep them at bay. "You mean that?"

"With everything I’ve got," he said, his voice steady and sure. "I know you’ve been hurt before, and I know you’re scared, but I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t mean it. I care about her, and I care about you. Both of you."

Tears welled in your eyes, and you quickly wiped them away, embarrassed. "I just… I don’t want to get this wrong."

"You’re not getting it wrong," he murmured, stepping closer until his forehead was nearly touching yours. "We’re figuring it out together. Yeah?"

You nodded, exhaling shakily, a tear slipping down your cheek. He reached up to brush it away with his thumb, his touch warm and reassuring.

"Besides," he added with a small grin, "I think your little one’s already decided I’m sticking around. She said I’m her best customer, remember?"

You laughed, the tension in your chest easing. "She really has taken to you."

"And I’ve taken to her," he said simply. "To both of you."

taglist:

@honestlymassivetrash

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intimidating-fettuccine · 2 days ago

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Hello! I hope you’re doing well :)

Could I have cuddling HCs with candy, night terrors and LJ? Ty in advance!

I love writing fluff like this, I hope you enjoy <3 Me casually making new LJ lore while writing this :p

Terrors:

It's rough in the beginning, I'm gonna be honest. You are this man's first for everything because when he was living on his own, his own person, his own ruler, he did not care about relationships at all, so he doesn't really understand anything except the barebones basics. The first time you ask him if it'll be okay to cuddle, he tries to think back on how Candy cuddles you (which he can barely remember because he feels embarrassed just watching you guys from inside Candy's mind), and he says that if that's what you wish, you may cuddle him. You've come very far in your relationship with Candy and Terrors at this point, so you naively assume this should go easily, but your assumptions are soon proven wrong. Terrors lays down first, on his back stiff as a board, and waits for you to join him, and you do, curling into his side, but he never moves. He stays that way for a while, to your amusement, and it takes many, many snuggle sessions for him to loosen up. Once he does, gradually wrapping an arm around you, and then two, and then holding you close to him, cuddles with Terrors become much clingier. They're firm but incredibly warm and protective. He prefers to keep you flush and tight against his chest, his arms trapping you there securely, only letting you go when you ask. He always feels he still might be doing something wrong, so he's still a little tense, but he can't deny that feeling your warmth so softly against him is a treasure he wished he'd been indulging in with you for far longer, and these days he's more than willing to cuddle you if you ever ask for it. He gets to the point that he wants to ask you himself, but he's too shy, so he tends to hover around you in a way you come to learn means he wants to snuggle you immediately.

Candy:

Candy's cuddles are nothing to sneeze at. This man is clingy in the best ways, incredibly warm, and all-encompassing as a lover, so of course he gives some of the best cuddles you'll ever indulge in, and he's pretty much always in the mood to cuddle up to you, so you're never starved for his touch. While he's quite brazen and forceful as a person, he's nearly the opposite when you first start cuddling with him at the start of your relationship until he learns what you like. He's all soft smiles and gentle words, wanting to go at your pace to not overwhelm you with his large body and stronger touches. He lets you worm your way into his arms however you'd like to, and once you do the same thing enough times, he learns what you enjoy, and always settles into the right position, readily scooping you into his arms and nuzzling into you to his heart's content. I think Candy prefers to pretty much absorb you into his body with his preferred cuddles. He likes you snug against his chest, his arms around you, your legs intertwined, his torso covering yours as he leans over you so he can cover you with his body. It makes him happy to be able to cover you and hold you so closely, so confined in his body that you've got no choice but to be completely smooshed against him. The type of partner to say they want you inside of their body when you're cuddling so you can just become one being. He tends to surprise you with snuggles when you've been together longer, as he definitely recharges from your touch and just wants to have contact with you all the time, and he's so warm and soft that you can't help but want to constantly be snuggling him yourself, so you tend to never refuse him. Candy is always happiest when he has you wrapped up in his arms.

LJ:

Another resident snuggle bug like Candy, Jack is always down for snuggles, and he's not shy about asking for them either. He's the type to just lift you up and take you away from whatever you were previously doing so he can just carry you off to bed and cuddle you whenever he gets particularly lonely. The only thing that might seem like a drawback about Jack I would say is that due to his mechanical nature, he doesn't have body warmth, so he tends to start off cold in your cuddles. During the summer it's awesome because he can cool you off from the heat outside, but not as pleasant at times like right now, during the colder winter months. However, as the executive owner of this blog and canon, I've come up with a situation; I think since he was originally made for children, that he probably has an internal heater (like a heated blanket situation) to warm up and be more pleasant to be in contact with. Meaning, that Jack can heat up his body to whatever temperature you want, which I suppose actually gives him a lead over others if he has time to heat up! So, when it's really cold, he starts heating himself up in advance, so when you get home he's already warm and ready to go, ridding you of any biting cold you had outside. His preferred cuddles I often write him with are you laying on top of him, his arms wrapped snug around you, your face snuggling into his neck. He likes feeling the weight of your body on top of him, as it makes him feel content and loved, knowing he's got you right here, safe and sound in his arms. I haven't mentioned it in a while, but Jack is able to make a calming purring sound when he's happy, and you can bet your butt he's constantly making that noise when you cuddle, calming both of you down and relaxing you.

#creepypasta #creepypasta headcanons #creepypasta x reader #creepypasta headcanon #candy pop #candy pop headcanons #candy pop headcanon #candy pop x reader #laughing jack #laughing jack x reader #laughing jack headcanon #laughing jack headcanons

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dis-plus-fanfic-reblog-writes · 1 day ago

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Title: Middle of the Night

Rated: Teen

Word Count: 595

Characters: Logan Howlett, GN!Reader

Ao3 Link (Coming Soon)

A/N: I need cuddles, so I came up with this little bit. A surprise waking up to Logan in bed. Enjoy.

The haze of sleep begins to fade as you realize something woke you. You’re just not sure what yet. It isn’t until you shift that you find something very heavy across your back followed by humid air blowing across your neck. Goosebumps and a shiver run across your neck and down your back. Your confusion further awakens you as you try to pull yourself out of Morpheus’ grasp to find out what’s happening. It takes you a while as you find yourself going in and out of sleep. The next time you wake up, you find yourself lying on a very warm, soft but slightly rough and firm surface. You can feel the drool cooling on your cheek, knowing it’s on the surface but not caring. Not caring until you hear an amused huff of laughter from a man you work with. A man who has become your friend, probably your best friend. Someone is more than a man and just as deadly but sees you for you and you for him. Your mind rushes you awake as adrenaline pumps in your veins and your heart begins to pound.

You begin to sleepily shift to raise yourself but hear the man shush you running his hand through your hair, slightly tugging at the ends. You relax back against him, grumbling sleepily, having found a weakness of yours. You want to purr but are too tired.

“If I’d known it would be this easy to finally hold you, I’d have done this sooner,” he quietly rumbles against your ear.

Your brow slightly furrows at his words. You turn your head and find his lips mere centimeters from yours. He leans forward and gives a quick press of his lips to yours. You’ve concluded this is a dream and roll back over to go back to sleep. You tense up as you try to roll out of the man’s arms but his grip is gentle and immovable. You grunt your displeasure.

He chuckles in a whisper. He falls silent for a few minutes before asking, “Can I please keep holding you?”

You grunt noncommittally and relax in his hold. You shift against him, nuzzling against whatever skin your face finds of his, trusting him easily, and he allows you to move away as you readjust your sleep position. You slightly sit up just enough to move as you clumsily climb onto his torso, bury your face under his clavicle, breathe in his scent, and straddle his ridiculously sexy, rippling abdomen. You can feel him tense as you shift but ignore it. You take a deep breath, bringing your arms resting against his shoulders as if to encircle his neck and nuzzle against his chest. He relaxes a few seconds later and drags the blanket back over the both of you while he resettles on his back, chin to his chest with his arms laying across your back, watching you.

You can feel his gaze on you; mentally, you find it amusing. The big bad Wolverine is a cuddly teddy bear and you love it. Makes you suddenly wonder why he got into your bed. You make a note to ask in the morning. He probably had a nightmare. You’ve crawled into his bed before when you’ve had one so not surprised he has reciprocated. Feels good that he has.

Once your breathing evens out and your body fully relaxes against him, he buries his nose into your hair and breathes in your scent. He purrs, happily, finally able to have you in his arms when he wants.

#logan howlett #Wolverine #gender neutral reader #Logan x reader #nighttime snuggles #cuddles #grumpy reader #elle em bee #Logan x male reader #Logan x female reader #reader insert

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boundinparchment · 3 days ago

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The Center Will Hold

Written before the release of 3.0.

The night before Anaxa leaves to fulfill his duty as an Heir, you seek his company one final time.

(Reader is implied to be female/afab.)

Read on AO3 here. Minors DNI. Rating: Mature

The Home of Sages looked vastly different at this hour. Midday painted the columns and thick trees around the edge in a golden light, painting it to be the very image used in every poem about the Titans and their glory. A haven for scholars who sought knowledge without the stigma of heresy and doubt. At this hour, the moon bathed the Grove of Epiphany in a silver light that only enhanced the glowing stars and swirling clouds above, and laid bare the vastness of the universe. The very opposite of Castrem Kremnos, where a battlefield and ruins marred the land and reminded all of the war that never seemed to end.

This was your last chance. Come dawn, he would be gone, and fulfill his role as the Chrysos Heir.

Or so many hoped. Many considered him foolish for supporting Erudition, for spouting blasphemy against the Titans. His ideas went against every norm but no one had managed to prove Anaxagoras wrong.

And thus the faith in the Heirs still held.

You wove your way through familiar paths, mindful of your footfalls. At this hour, he was not likely to have shut himself away, even if he were desperate for sleep. The stars were too bright and destiny burned too hot for rest to take him. Instead, you headed towards the one place you knew by heart, tucked away in the depths of the Grove where you once recited poetry and bared your soul.

Cutting between a series of bushes, you arrived at your destination. Little room for more than a marble bench, the tall plants climbing towards the sky as if to kiss the stars but never obscuring their glistening glory.

You looked around. The Heart of the Grove…empty.

Before your stomach had time to sink, you felt hot breath against your neck. Hands, warm and familiar with your form, held you fast: one on your hip and the other cradling your jaw, thumb hovering over your lip.

“You should not be here.”

Anaxa stared down at you, his uncovered eye watching you closely. Despite his stern expression, you caught a flicker of mirth.

“We both know that I’m right where I need to be,” you whispered, leaning into the hand holding your cheek.

He let go of you only long enough to embrace you properly. For a man of logic and reason, he spent an exorbitant amount of time burying his nose in your hair and running his fingers over the column of your spine, as if you were a book he had not yet read and longed to. His kiss was sweet but focused, tempered like steel as his tongue met yours with as much passion as he gave during a lecture about the falsehood of the Titans.

You could do little more than tug at one another, loosen fastenings until you found searing bare skin. The grass beneath was cool, beginning to dampen with dew. Your coupling was unceremonious, familiar sensations that told you home was here, with him, and that was all that mattered.

Framed by stars, the man above you looked every bit as human as he always was. But when his hair moved just so and the light caught his dual-colored eye, whatever doubt you held for the prophecy fell away.

And in the light of the dawn, after your love-making, as you gave him one final kiss, you were certain of one thing.

No human had such raw power and brilliance, held so much love for their land, not like he did.

And no one would love you like he did.

#Anaxa #hsr anaxa #honkai star rail anaxa #anaxa x reader #Anaxa/female reader

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lavender-twilight23 · 13 hours ago

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OKAY- let’s talk about Hank and Charles for a second.

So when we first meet Hank, Charles accidentally outs him as a mutant (oops lol) and they discuss his mutation a bit. Hank says “I wish that’s all it was” after Charles mentions his Harvard graduation. (Our poor boy 🥺)

AND THEN:

“You’re among friends now, Hank. You can show off.” CHARLES NODS AT HANK’S FEET. HE KNOWS. I mean, it makes sense given than he might’ve gotten that mutant spidey sense feeling when he first met Hank, but the little detail of him nodding, it’s just…AHHH 😍 And the camera is focused on Raven here, so it’s easy to miss Charles, and I didn’t notice it until quite recently!

And then THIS TOO:

Hank is such an insecure little boy 🥺 the fact that he glances at Charles almost to ask permission or to ask if it’s okay or to get reassurance both breaks my heart and warms it. Charles came up to him confidently and enthusiastically, and there’s a student/teacher dynamic there immediately.

THEIR RELATIONSHIP IS NOT TALKED ABOUT ENOUGH!!! And the way it changes over the years???

There was very much that teacher/student dynamic at first, but then in DOFP, when Charles spiraled into depression/addiction, Hank NEEDED to step up to care for him. Charles’ mental state crumbled, and Hank had to take charge. For ELEVEN YEARS.

Hank and Raven literally have this exchange in the DOFP: Rogue Cut:

Raven: “so you’ve been living here all these years?”

Hank: “well…someone had to take care of Charles.”

100%, he’s been in the caretaker role for YEARS. Watching Charles spiral, seeing him hit rock bottom. Must’ve been so lonely, practically living with a ghost, someone who he used to LOOK UP TO.

Then in X-Men: Apocalypse, they are definitely equals. And mind you, at this point in the prequels, Hank has been by Charles’ side for HALF HIS LIFE. From FC to Apocalypse, over TWENTY YEARS. He’s been with him through SO MUCH: Charles’ paralysis, losing Raven, losing ERIK, then him falling into a deep depression and addiction, then Hank having to help pull him out of that, and then reopening the school and watching/helping as Charles finally grew into the man and the professor he always wanted to be. Their relationship has been through SO MUCH, and I’d argue that their relationship rivals Erik and Charles IN THE SENSE OF how much they’ve seen of each other.

Their relationship is so intriguing to think about and to analyze- I’ve written so much fanfiction exploring their dynamic and their relationship- I love the two of them so much, their friendship is so layered and so impactful. Cherik is great and all, of course it is, OF COURSE, but the tight-knit friendship between Hank and Charles deserves love too ❤️

Gifs made by me in Canva :)

#x men #charles xavier #hank mccoy #x men fandom #x men films #x men first class #gifset #my gifs #multilayered relationships hell yea #Hank and Charles’ friendship deserves more recognition #I mean pls Hank took care of him for eleven fking years #my man needs an award #bcuz you know that shit would’ve eaten away at him #he must’ve been so lonely with a depressed Charles and an empty mansion :(

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wannabanauthor · 2 days ago

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Some BuckTommy thoughts while my county is on fire

Irony that I watch a firefighter show that takes place in my actual county. I am fine and safe, but one of my friends lost power and another friend lost her home and her entire neighborhood.

Anyway, bad segue:

I just saw a gifset of Tommy, and it reminds me of something I've noticed about him since season 7.

He is very reserved, but also warm and open once he gets comfortable with someone.

My first time watching 7x05, I was actually surprised when he said "you already know I'm interested" and my first thoughts were, "we do?"

Yes, he was all cute during the date, but I was also surprised when he said, "Evan, I think you're adorable." And he was so genuine, but then his mask slipped back on and he said he didn't think Buck was ready and that he'd see him around.

Being an older gay man who was in the army, I can see why he is reserved at first glance. Remember I've mentioned that he has butch lesbian energy, and he does. All tough on the outside, but once you get to know them, they're teddy bears who can be so affectionate and sweet.

I think he knew from the start that Buck was going to ruin him. He was charmed by the golden retriever hunky firefighter who was so determined to get to know him.

Buck was the one for him, and he couldn't help but lean heavily into that. Tommy romanced the hell out of Buck, he was an eager and dedicated boyfriend, and you could tell that he genuinely loved being in a relationship with Buck.

I think he got a little "too" comfortable and fell hard and fast for Buck. Once Buck asked him to move in, his walls went back up, and he was back to being kind of stoic and reserved. Maybe it's a panic response to past trauma, I don't know, but that's what it looked like.

Maybe he realized that someone had finally gently taken down his walls and repurposed the bricks for something else or the bricks were just set aside. He made a point to mention that Buck was impulsive which probably fueled his fear of Buck breaking his heart. Maybe Tommy hated himself for falling for Buck and opening himself to future hurt/harm or heartbreak.

Tommy was scared of finally having what he truly wanted because that meant he'd have to be more vulnerable and open. So it was better to retreat to what he had done in the past and just walk away before someone gets hurt, but he ended up hurting them both in the process. Being cool, calm, and collected was much easier than putting his heart on the line.

Just look at his expression after their first kiss. He didn't even smile until Buck said "yeah, that works". He was ready for rejection. Then he softened and asked Buck if kissing him was okay. Then Buck made him laugh, and then Tommy was back to being cool and suave, asked him out, and then reminded Buck to call Eddie.

Maybe throughout their relationship he kept waiting for the other shoe to drop. Maybe he doesn't believe that he can truly ever be happy.

#tommy kinard #bucktommy #meta #thoughts

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imtryingbuck · 11 hours ago

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My world

~ gif not mine credit to owner ~

Pairing: Rockstar!Bucky Barnes x plus size!fem!Reader

Summary: Bucky’s relationship with Y/n becomes public knowledge.

Word count: 1,371

Warnings: fluff. Bucky’s in love. slight angst (mean people commenting on Y/n’s weight.)

A/N: thank you so much for the request! I am so so so so sorry that this took forever for me to do. I hope you like it🤍

Masterlist

“Just a few more questions and then I’ll let you go, your latest song, is there anyone in particular it’s about?” The interviewer smiled softly at the man whose rock band Avengers Assemble that had taken the world by storm, the leader singer Bucky, smiled shyly before moving his shoulder length hair out of his face.

“Y/n.”

“And who is that?”

“My world.” His eyes shot to the side where she was standing, a grin on his lips as her cheeks began to go red.

“A thousand of hearts have just broken all over the world.” The interviewer laughs, Bucky does too and shrugs. “How long have you two been dating?”

“Coming up to five years.”

“That’s sweet.”

Bucky gives the woman a warm smile and after saying their goodbyes and the woman thanking him for sitting down to talk, he rushes straight towards Y/n.

“Hello beautiful.”

“Hello, you did amazing.”

“You think?”

“I do.”

“Why thank you my love.” Releasing his arms from around her, he makes her giggle when he bows.

Bucky’s arm was around Y/n’s shoulder as she snuggled further into his warmth as the film continued to play, pressing a kiss to her head his phone lit up and began vibrating as notification after notification began to hide the photo of Y/n and their cat Alpine snuggled up on the very sofa he was currently sitting on.

“What’s going on?”

“I’m not… oh, that interview came out and fans are going crazy.”

The film was long forgotten about as Bucky and Y/n scrolled through social media giggling like schoolchildren at the posts and comments surrounding their relationship, with everyone wanting to know who she actually was - the second they figured out who she was her instagram account had hundreds of follower requests.

Then came the mean comments, ranging from accusing her of using Bucky for fame to making comments about her weight and appearance. The “fans” were shocked to find out that a man like Bucky was dating someone like her, they said that he should be ashamed and dating a model and not someone plus sized, before she could even let the nasty comments get to her she smiled at seeing people defending her and their relationship.

“Baby, are you alright? Please don’t listen to them, I don’t want anyone other than you.”

“I’m alright, I promise.”

“But you know that, right? That it’s only you that I want.”

“I know.” She beamed up at him.

Bucky came back from the store with a skip in his step as he proudly showed the cupcake mixer box to Y/n, and that’s how Steve found the couple, in the kitchen with Bucky sitting on the counter swinging his legs as he licked the whisk clean as Y/n put the tray in the oven.

“Buck… are you having fun?”

“We’re making cupcakes.” He said happily.

“I want one, also has Tony rang you?”

“Only one! And I don’t know, my phones in the living room, why what’s up?”

“We’ve been nominated for a Grammy.”

“Don’t joke.”

“I’m not.”

Bucky jumped down off the counter, picking Y/n up and spinning her around before wrapping his arms around Steve. “This is amazing!”

The night of the Grammys had Bucky pacing around the house with nerves as Y/n got dressed - he begged and pleaded with her to come with him as his date, cheering when she finally caved and said yes.

His pacing only stopping when their bedroom door came open, his jaw dropping as he laid his eyes on her. There weren't enough words in the world for him to describe her, nothing could ever truly do her justice and he had tried, way too many times, even going as far as making up words - much to her amusement.

“My love…”

“D-Do I look okay?”

“Okay? My love you are the most stunning thing I’ve ever had the pleasure of seeing.” His heart tingles as she blushes at his words. “You’re a goddess and I am so lucky to call you mine.”

As her blush deepens she smiles shyly up at him and whispers. “Thank you. You look very handsome.”

“As always.” He laughs with a wink.

Bucky couldn’t take his eyes off of her as the camera flashes blinded the both of them, his hand never leaving her waist as they posed with the rest of the band. His hand clung to hers as they sat down, his leg bouncing up and down with nerves only stopping when she squeezed his hand.

“And the winner is… Avengers Assemble!”

Bucky looked straight at Y/n as to ask if he had heard right, her beaming, proud smile had him laughing before kissing her passionately.

The speech had the audience laughing and clapping, with Bucky ending it by holding up the award and looking straight at Y/n. “This one is for you, my love.”

They all agreed that they wouldn’t go to the after party that they had been invited to, instead choosing to go back to Y/n’s and Bucky’s to celebrate their win just on their own.

Grabbing her glass Y/n stood in front of the band, her family. “I am so proud of all of you, I knew you guys would win and if it was up to me you would have won every award.” They all laugh. “I’m being serious! But anyway, you all deserve it and I know there’s going to be so much more to come.”

After each of them hug and thank her for everything Bucky takes her hand and leads them outside.

“I love you.” He whispers as he rests his forehead against hers.

“I love you.”

His hands trail down her arms until they find hers. “You’re my world, my everything, my light and my love.” Getting down on one knee and pulling out a small box out of his pocket, he smiles up at her as her eyes widen. “Will you continue to make me the happiest man alive and marry me?”

“Yes! Yes I’ll marry you!”

As he slides the ring onto her finger the back garden erupted in cheers and applause as the band - their family - watched the whole thing, all gathering around them to offer their congratulations.

In every interview Bucky did he always mentioned Y/n, whether or not he was asked about her, from the moment their relationship become public knowledge he was finally allowed to post photos of her on his public account.

When he got asked about why he kept their relationship private he simply replied. “It wasn’t, my family and friends knew we were together.”

“Some people think that you were ashamed-“

“Ashamed? No.” Bucky cuts the interviewer off. “I simply chose to keep my relationship away from the world because it has nothing to do with anyone other than me and Y/n.”

“So why now? Why after five years?”

“For what? To make my relationship public?” The interviewer nods. “Because I can. Because I got fed up of people thinking I was dating Natasha who by the way is my best friend.”

“Does it not bother you that Y/n’s overweight?”

“Are you joking?“ He looks straight at Tony - the bands manager - and even his eyes were wide. “My fiancée is perfect in my eyes, and at the end of the day that’s all that matters. I’m done here.”

When that interview came out the bands fans were angry at the interviewer and praised Bucky for handling that question without getting angry - not like they could blame him. Obviously what they didn’t know is that Bucky was calling that interviewer all the names he could think of as the car took him back to the hotel where Y/n was waiting for him, the second she was in reach he burst out crying - he couldn’t understand why people couldn’t see her the way he did, he couldn’t understand why people had to be so nasty for no reason about a person they didn’t even know.

The band had just won their fifth Grammy, Bucky beaming proudly at Y/n as he held up the award. “This is for you, my beautiful wife, I love you.”

Tags: @imcinnamoons | @pigeonmama | @capsbestgirl77

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peachversace · 2 days ago

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[ sfw ] — fluff ; gojo satoru x reader

You’re crouched in the soft, rich earth, planting forget-me-nots under the midday sun. The meadow is quiet except for the occasional whisper of the wind through the tall grass and the steady rhythm of your hands working the soil. There’s a strange peace here in the afterlife—a lightness that still feels foreign to Satoru. He steps outside, his tall frame casting a shadow over you, his sharp blue eyes catching on your figure.

For a man who has always been larger than life, the afterlife itself should feel small. And yet, Satoru can’t seem to get used to this serenity, this weightlessness. For so long, he was the strongest, the indomitable force, the invincible protector. Now, he’s just… Satoru. Your Satoru. Your Cyclops, your Daredevil, your Wannabe Kakashi. That thought alone sends a ripple through his chest—a pang of something tender and indescribable.

You look up at him, catching his gaze, and your lips curve into a smile that could rival the sun. Satoru feels his heart stutter, a sensation he’s still not used to, and then he grins, letting his playful nature take over.

“Professor X,” he drawls, his voice teasing and warm, “you’re gonna ruin your dress. It’d be a real shame if it got, y’know, taken off so soon.”

Your eyes narrow, but there’s a spark of amusement behind them as you shoot back, “Shut up, Daredevil. As if you’re not dying for it.”

He laughs, a rich, carefree sound that blends perfectly with the breeze, and crouches down beside you, his long legs folding awkwardly. “Looks good,” he murmurs, his voice softer now, filled with a quiet sincerity that only you get to hear. His fingers brush against your golden necklace, the one he gave you in the life before this one. His thumb grazes the turquoise pendant that dangles from the chain.

He remembers every word you said when he gave it to you:

“Well, the color gold reminded me of how you treat me. You treat me like I’m gold, always keeping me close and being nice to me, and uh… And the blue reminded me of your eyes. I remember that I once saw on the internet that turquoise is the December birthstone and you’re born in December, so… I don’t know. I loved it, I guess. Having a piece of you beside me.”

Those words had wrapped around his heart like a vice then, and now they linger, still potent, still sacred. He fingers the pendant as if it holds the essence of that memory, as if it’s the link between your shared past and this perfect present.

The softness of the moment makes something in him ache, in the best way. He feels weightless but grounded, like you’re some divine being tethering him to a world he never wants to leave. He leans in closer, the scent of the earth and your presence filling his senses.

You glance at him, your hands still working the soil, and your lips curve into that familiar, knowing smile. “Of course they do. They remind me of you,” you say simply, your voice steady and warm, like a melody only he gets to hear.

Satoru’s mind flashes back to something you told him in your former life, about the very flowers you’re planting now:

“Well, they’re called forget-me-nots because I hope you cherish them and don’t forget about me. They symbolize luck and protection. And uhm, this color blue reminds me of your eyes. I think it’s handsome and, uh, lovely.”

His throat tightens slightly at the memory. Even then, you’d seen him as more than just ‘the strongest.’ You’d seen Satoru—the man beneath the limitless power. And now, in this new life, you see him even more clearly.

He presses a gentle kiss to your cheek, his lips lingering against your skin. The gesture makes you pause for a moment, leaning into his touch instinctively.

“I love you, Satoru,” you murmur, your voice so soft it feels like a prayer.

His grin is boyish and teasing, but there’s an unmistakable tenderness in his eyes as he replies, “I love you too, my sweet little angel honey bun.”

You pull back slightly, rolling your eyes with a huff, though your smile betrays your amusement. “Barf. You know I hate those pet names.”

He chuckles, unfazed. “You hate a lot of things, Gandalf, but you still stick with me.”

You shake your head, planting another flower as you retort, “I guess I do, Cyclops.”

The banter flows so naturally between you, lighthearted and easy, but beneath it is an unshakable foundation. You finish planting the forget-me-nots, brushing dirt from your hands, and before you can rise, Satoru pulls you toward him for a kiss.

It’s unhurried, tender, and yet it holds all the passion he has for you. When you pull away, you see it in his expression—the way his eyes soften, the way his grin curves into something more genuine.

Yeah, he thinks, this is it. This is the life he never dared to dream of. You’re his Professor X, his Gandalf, his Might Guy. His dear and most beloved.

You’re his, and he’s yours. And nothing else in any world matters.

#[heaven in your eyes]#esta’s drabble corner :p #gojo satoru #gojo #satoru gojo #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #satoru gojo x reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #OOOOOOO satoru i missed u sm #and i missed heaven in your eyes reader and him

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marsborne · 2 days ago

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Untold Weight - Pinocchio x f!Reader

After the events that happened at Arche Abbey, Pinocchio is left to think about all that has happened. The thoughts that run around in his head are not very pleasant.

Set after the Rise of P ending

- warnings: sad pino at the beginning

- word count: 1.6k

AU where Antonia lives

It’s been a few days since Pinocchio returned from the Isle of Alchemists with Sophia, and ever since, unease seemed to settle over him like a shadow. He’d shared everything with you—every trial he faced, from his battles against countless enemies to his fight with Laxasia, and even his confrontation with Simon. His silver hair, gleaming softly in the moonlight, a sort of proof of setting Sophia free and her being with him until the very end. She was happy now, radiantly so, and yet…something lingered.

He told you about Geppetto. About the Nameless Puppet. About Carlo. About his own heart.

When he returned, it was you he sought out first.

He found you in the library of Hotel Krat. There were no words, only action. He wrapped you in an embrace so tight, so full of sorrow, it felt like he was holding onto you for dear life, afraid you might slip through his fingers just like his maker.

He didn’t know what to think. His father—his creator, the man he had idolized and obeyed without question, had spoken such hateful words. Yet, he had shed tears for him.

Tears for a monster of a man.

And still, those final words haunted him.

"I’m sorry, son."

They echoed in his mind, turning over and over like the mechanisms in his chest. The more he thought about them, the more he believed they weren’t meant for him at all, but for Carlo.

Everyone at the hotel noticed the shift in him. Some more than others. It was Antonia who noticed first.

She called for him one day. Life at the hotel had started to mend—rooms restored, halls repaired, the echoes of despair replaced by the tentative whispers of hope.

He sat on a stool by the piano in the library, his elbows resting on his knees, his silver hair falling like a curtain to hide his face. Across from him, Antonia sat in her wheelchair, her gaze warm with quiet understanding.

He told her everything.

Antonia, who had loved Geppetto and Carlo so dearly, found her heart twisting in ways she hadn’t expected. She had never imagined this of Geppetto, the man she once held in such high esteem. Carlo was gone, but her love for the boy remained steadfast. Yet, in the time she had come to know Pinocchio, her affection for him had grown just as strong. In many ways, she saw him as a son.

But there was another weight Pinocchio carried, one he couldn’t voice so easily.

He worried about what you might think of him now.

His father’s words had cut deep, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t silence them. He was just a puppet. Nothing more.

But oh, if only he could see himself through your eyes.

Antonia saw it too.

“Oh, dear child. That girl holds you so very dear—more than you probably know. Don’t think I didn’t notice how she looks at you, from the very first day you arrived here. I may have been ill, but I wasn’t blind,” she said with a soft chuckle. “Talk to her and see for yourself. She has a pure heart, and she loves you truly. She would never discard you, just because you’re not made of flesh and blood.”

Her words stayed with him, echoing in his mind, until finally, he found the courage to come to your door.

You had been worried sick. For days, he had barely spoken to anyone, least of all you.

When you opened the door, his gaze remained fixed on the floor, unable to meet yours. You could see the weight he carried, feel it in the air between you. You knew what had happened—everyone did. You couldn’t claim to understand his pain. You didn’t, and you never would.

But you had resolved to be there for him, through it all.

He stood before you in his simple white shirt and dark pants, a picture of vulnerability. You stepped closer, your hands reaching up to cradle his freckled cheeks, gently lifting his face so you could meet his eyes.

His eyes shimmered—not with the polished quality of their craftsmanship, but with unshed tears.

“Pino, sweetheart, what’s wrong?”

It was a silly question. You knew what was wrong.

He said nothing, only wrapped his arms around you. Carefully, always carefully with his Legion arm. He buried his face in your shoulder, silent tears soaking into your shirt.

Your heart ached. You held him close, your fingers threading through his silver hair, offering comfort in the only way you could. For a while, the room was quiet, save for the soft ticking of his mechanisms and the steady beat of his heart. Then, finally, you spoke.

“You are enough.”

He froze. For a moment, even his gears seemed to halt. Slowly, he pulled back, his face a mix of surprise and something else—something raw.

“…What?”

“You are enough, Pinocchio.”

And just like that, he broke.

He kissed you with an intensity that stole the air from your lungs, his lips pressing against yours with a fervor that felt like a plea and a promise all at once. His hands moved with a careful kind of desperation—one resting on your back, pulling you closer, as if he could fuse you together and never let go. The other found its way into your hair, his fingers threading through the strands as though seeking solace in their softness.

It was not a kiss of hesitation or doubt—it was everything he couldn’t put into words. His fears, his sorrows, his love for you—all of it poured out in a torrent, raw and unrestrained.

For a moment, you were stunned, caught off guard by the sheer weight of his emotion. But then, like the tide rushing to meet the shore, you responded without hesitation.

Your hands found their place, one on his cheek and the other curling around his neck, pulling him even closer. The heat of the moment wrapped around you both like a cocoon, shielding you from the outside world. You kissed him back with everything you had, pouring every ounce of love, every whispered promise, and every silent vow into the connection between you.

His lips moved against yours with a mix of urgency and tenderness, as though trying to memorize every detail of this moment. He tilted his head slightly, deepening the kiss, and you felt a soft, shaky sigh escape him. The hand in your hair tightened just a fraction, his thumb brushing against your temple in a touch so reverent it made your heart ache.

Your senses were overwhelmed by him—the faint metallic tang of his scent, the warmth of his touch, the rhythmic ticking of his mechanisms mingling with the steady beat of his heart. It was a symphony of contrasts, both human and mechanic, and it was him.

When you finally broke apart, it wasn’t from a lack of desire but the need for air. His forehead pressed against yours, his silver hair falling between you like a shimmering curtain. His breaths came in soft, uneven gasps, mingling with yours in the quiet space between you.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. You simply looked at each other, his glossy eyes searching yours as if trying to confirm that this was real, that you were here, and that you loved him as fiercely as he loved you.

And you did.

Without a word, your thumb brushed against his freckled cheek, a silent reassurance that you weren’t going anywhere. His lips quirked into the faintest of smiles, and in that instant, you knew. No matter the hardships you faced, no matter the doubts that plagued him, you would face them by his side.

---

An hour later, you lay together on your bed. Pinocchio rested his head on your chest, his arms wrapped securely around your torso. The steady rhythm of your heartbeat was his anchor, grounding him in a world that often felt too overwhelming.

Your fingers played idly with strands of his silver hair, curling them around your fingertips as you stared at the ceiling.

For Pinocchio, this moment felt like heaven.

The thought came to him suddenly, yet it rooted itself deeply.

He thought of Julian, the gentleman who had entrusted him with his wife’s most cherished possession. Their wedding ring. His owrds rang in his head.

"Please remember the love Melody and I shared. Who knows? Maybe you'll find true love one day, too."

He thought of Polendina and the love he so clearly felt for Antonia—a love so pure and steadfast it seemed to transcend everything.

And then, he thought of you.

He adored you. Completely and utterly.

“I want to marry you,” he said, breaking the silence.

Your fingers stilled. Your heart skipped a beat, and he felt it beneath his ear.

“I…what?”

“I want you to be my wife,” he said, his voice soft but steady.

You blinked, unsure if you’d heard him correctly.

Now he lifted his head, propping himself up on his arms. His silver hair framed his face, strands brushing your cheeks like a veil between you and the rest of the world. Your face burned crimson, and he chuckled softly, a flicker of mischief breaking through his seriousness.

“You’re not…proposing to me right now, are you?”

He faltered, guilt flashing across his face as he began to sit up. But before he could pull away, you grabbed his face, pressing a kiss to his freckled forehead and tucking a few silver strands behind his ear.

“I’m not complaining,” you said with a soft smile. “And I want you to be my husband as well”

For a moment, he looked as though he might short circuit entirely.

Little did you know, the residents of Hotel Krat had already begun planning your wedding long before either of you realized you wanted one.

Heyy so school started and I'm not okay with that

Anyways I finished ng+ and immediately started ng+2 and my brain slapped me with this idea

I put my whole nervous system and brain power into that kissing scene I hope it's alright-

Also that ending was so random I felt the need to add that

#i love him sm ohmygodosjjshsbsjajajaisixjhx #lies of p #lies of p pinocchio #lies of p x reader #pinocchio #pinocchio x reader #x reader #fluff #lies of p fanfic #lies of p game #oneshot #female reader #slight angst #p x reader #headcanon #lies of p headcanon

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leonastarry · 10 hours ago

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{ 6 } Special. ✧. ┊ s.jinwoo x fem!reader

Jinwoo loves you so much.

From childhood sweethearts, now the two of you have become husband and wife. It's been a long process, but it's truly precious.

✧˖*°࿐

Jinwoo met you when we were both 4 years old. At that time, your family had just moved to Seoul and rented an apartment near his. Your mother took you to his house to get to know the neighbors. You were small and shy, hiding behind your mother's legs. He found you very cute. His mother patted his shoulder and told him to go out with you, he nodded and approached you.

"Hello, I'm Sung Jinwoo."

"[N-Name].."

✧˖*°࿐

The first time he realized he loved you was when he was 17 years old. His teenage years were not a beautiful time. He was bullied and teased because he was weak. Until one day, you ran up to him and protected him from those bullies, he felt his heart flutter. The image of you standing in front of him, against the sunlight, made you seem to have a halo. The way you stood firmly and resolutely made him surprised and admired.

"Jinwoo, don't worry, I will protect you!"

✧˖*°࿐

When Jinwoo became a hunter, hardships piled up, you were the one who was always by his side and supported him. Even though he was a weak E-rank hunter, you always showed him that he was also very strong, and you admired him very much. When he became an S-rank, you were the shoulder for him to lean on when he was tired, when he felt his heart needed to be comforted and his mind needed to rest.

You would hug him tightly, stroke his hair, draw circles on his back. You would kiss his forehead, the corners of his eyes, his hair lovingly. And the two of you would just lie on the bed and enjoy each other's warm embrace, everything outside the world just being ignored.

"I love you so much."

✧˖*°࿐

When he used the reincarnation cup, after 27 years of fighting, the first person he looked for after returning was you. He hugged you tightly and buried his face in your hair, inhaling your sweet scent, the scent he missed so much. He would let you scold him for leaving for 2 years, but he would just look at you and smile.

'It's great that I'm back, it's great that I can see you again, [Name]'

✧˖*°࿐

Jinwoo proposed to you when he was 27. That day, the two of you had a wonderful summer date. In the morning, he woke up together, cooked breakfast for you, and went shopping together. In the afternoon, he and you went to the cinema together, you were engrossed in watching the movie, he looked at you. In the evening, the two of you had a delicious dinner at a fancy restaurant, then he took you to see fireworks.

In the moment when the dots of light flew up and shone brightly in the dark sky, he looked at you and said.

"You know, for me, family love is the most sacred love. And you, who have been with me all these years, I also want to share that same sacred love."

He took a red velvet box from his pocket and knelt down.

"[Name], you are the love, the light of my life. I am forever grateful to have you by my side. So I want to spend the rest of my life with you."

He opened the ring box.

"Will you allow me to be family with you?"

✧˖*°࿐

When he saw you in your pure white wedding dress, he couldn't help but feel emotional. He felt his eyes well up with tears. After all these years, the day had finally come when he could call you his wife, and he would be the only man for you.

He held your hand tightly.

"I stand here today, before you, our family, and our friends, with a heart full of love and faith. I promise to always be your faithful companion, your loving partner through all the joys and challenges. I promise to respect, listen, and support you on every journey we will take together. I promise to love you for the rest of my life."

✧˖*°࿐

And then the two of you had your first son, a clone of Jinwoo. And five years later, you and Jinwoo welcomed another little princess. The whole family lived happily together. A complete family, you, your husband, your two beloved children, and Jinwoo's shadow soldiers, you couldn't ask for anything more.

Jinwoo and you went, time passed, wrinkles appeared on you and Jinwoo. But the love you two had for each other did not fade.

On your 15th wedding anniversary, standing on Kaisel's back, Jinwoo gave you a sparkling necklace. He put it around your neck and leaned down to press his lips against yours for a long time.

"Wife, you go home first, I still have things to do."

"Will you come back for me?"

"Always."

My back hurts 😥😥.

School really ruined me 😭😭

#dream.✧˖*°࿐#leona.star #solo leveling #solo leveling x reader #sung jin woo #sung jinwoo #sung jinwoo x reader #sungjinwoo #sung jinwoo x y/n #sung jinwoo x you

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impactdial · 3 days ago

Text

möbius, forever (2/2)

Ship: Sanji/Usopp

Rating: T

Warnings: Alcohol use

Tags: Feelings Realizations, Jealousy, Denial of Feelings

“Are you mad at me?” Usopp asked suddenly as he lifted his head slightly, his voice slow and a bit somber. The stark difference between his behavior from just a little while ago versus now made Sanji’s stomach drop. “No,” Sanji said without hesitation, maybe too eagerly, pushing himself closer to Usopp to double the warmth between them. Some of Usopp’s stray curls brushed the hollow of his throat, and something compels Sanji to add, “Why would I be mad?”

Note: Thanks for reading! Sorry it took a minute, I actually ended up rewriting a lot of this chapter lol. I'd love to know what you guys thought! <3

AO3

It was relatively easy to guide Usopp through the cabin door, physically speaking. He did lament, albeit very briefly, that Sanji was “robbing the party of its guest of honor”, to which Sanji (lightly) kicked him in the back of the thigh to usher him inside. After that, Usopp resorted to theatrically jutting out his bottom lip and whining in the deliberate, exaggerate tone he uses when he’s trying to appeal to the cook’s kinder tendencies (such as grilling pike for dinner or, seas forbid, obliging a dessert request). Sanji, already thoroughly pissed off, just barked at him to put his dirty overalls in the dirty laundry pile while he rummaged through his own locker for a spare shirt.

(He purposefully avoided looking inside the locker’s door, where the old charm was still carefully taped beside some scribbled recipe cards.)

Once he’s found something suitable, he quickly changes and then sets upon the task of finding Usopp something as well, which is easier said than done. Usopp’s neighboring locker is, perhaps not unlike its owner, organized chaos at its finest. Sanji eventually got frustrated rifling through piles of hastily folded overalls and grabbed something from Franky’s locker instead; an older floral pattern top, something that he knew for a fact Usopp could wiggle into easily. In all honesty, they both probably need a shower to properly rinse off the heady smell of beer, but Sanji was not going to attempt bathing someone who’s intoxicated and likely to slip and bust his ass anyway (and then Sanji would have to explain to Chopper why he felt the need to go to the trouble of rescuing Usopp only to leave his drunk, clumsy crew mate unattended in the showers). He decided that was something that could wait until morning, at least.

The cook then pivots on his heels to turn towards Usopp, only to get an eyeful of the younger man in the middle of stripping down to his skivvies, kicking off the rest of his ruined overalls. The sound that leaves Sanji’s mouth is so high pitched that nothing manages to come out at all.

“The hell are you doing?!” Sanji snapped incredulously, quickly turning away again and wondering why in the world he felt strangely lightheaded for a moment, like he did when Nami’s displaying a more than generous amount of cleavage. The mental image of Usopp’s broad, bare thighs and the tantalizing line of dark curly fuzz that trails down his overhanging belly lasted every time Sanji rapidly blinked. He heard Usopp make a confused sort of noise, sucking in a breath between his teeth.

“Y’ said to get naked–” the sniper began before Sanji whipped towards him again and quickly interjected, “I said put your clothes in the dirty laundry, not strip down while I’m still in here, dumbass!”

Sanji shoved the oversized hand-me-down in Usopp’s hands on his way out the door, fuming.

“Stay here! Do not move, or I’ll kick your ass so hard it flies across the Grand Line twice.” The blond ordered firmly, but Usopp didn't seem to take it to heart as he’s barely holding back boyish tittering at the mental picture Sanji’s painted for him. Sanji stormed out without waiting for a reply, briskly making his way to the galley while he fumbled to light a cigarette. He scrubbed at his face, hating how warm to the touch it felt. Fuck. Damnit. Shitty long nose.

Sanji knew this is what he karmically deserved for fussing over Usopp in the first place, but even so, the quieter, shittier part of him got what he wanted too, and seas, if that wasn’t a fucked up thought. Squirreling away Usopp from any potential danger. The same selfish thoughts that invade his mind whenever the Strawhats encounter trouble. That maybe he could forgive himself for failing to protect Usopp on Saboady that fateful day, that maybe if he tried harder these other times, he’d finally be forgiven–

The cook hissed in pain, batting away the sting of hot ashes on his skin where what remained of the filter dangled in his grasp. Sanji swore, pitching the finished cigarette over Sunny’s railing, and fished in his pockets for another all before he finally reached the galley door. He doesn’t dawdle in the kitchen. The blond poured a tall glass of cool water and grabbed a clean dish rag from the cabinet before wetting it thoroughly. He wrung it out once, then with both his items, returned to the boys’ room. His walk was again thankfully uninterrupted, and somehow no one seemed to notice him slipping by. If anyone saw that he and Usopp were hidden away while the swell of Brook’s violin sang high over the evening waves, nobody questioned it anyway.

Usopp was dressed this time, thank goodness, except now he’s lying on the floor in the middle of the room, sprawled out against the cool flooring. Sanji wondered briefly why he’d chosen the hard floor over the cushioned bench, but figured it would be pointless to argue over it. Regardless, if he blacked out on the cushions or the floor, Sanji would be carrying his sorry ass to bed either way. Sanji nudged the younger man’s leg with a mumbled “Here,” muted by the cigarette in his mouth, coaxing him to sit up. Usopp hummed a questioning sound before he squeaked in surprise at the cold, damp rag being unceremoniously tossed at the exposed portion of his chest where he’d presumably lost the coordination to button the rest of his oversized shirt.

“Clean yourself up. I’m not going to bed with you stinking up the bunks.”

Usopp, to his credit, obliged. He took his sweet time sitting up though, the concentration of wiping himself down apparently too much to achieve vertically. Finally, after a minute or two, he hauled himself upward and took the offered water with overly complicated hand gestures that Sanji assumed meant he was grateful. As Usopp chugged the water, Sanji sank to the floor and watched him, one hand in his pocket as his thumb flicked over the shape of his lighter thoughtfully, ascertaining his crew mate’s sobriety.

It’s not the worst Usopp’s ever gotten trashed before, but it’s enough that Sanji couldn’t say for certain just how miserably hungover he’s going to be tomorrow. Something simple and light would probably be best for breakfast, then—toast with almond butter and sliced banana perhaps, served with a mug of black coffee sweetened with cinnamon–

Sanji was suddenly pulled out of his thoughts when Usopp loosely grasped his chin and gives it a small, playful shake.

“You’re so good to me, Sanjiii.” The cook’s name drawled sweetly out of his mouth, and Sanji’s about to tell him off again but his temper cooled considerably when he saw the way Usopp’s grinning at him so dopily, affection brimming full in earthy brown eyes. He tolerated the treatment instead, nose wrinkling irritably.

“You drank too much, shitty long nose,” Sanji huffed, trying hard to sound annoyed, brushing Usopp’s hand away. It’s a half hearted attempt at scolding, and they both know it. The sniper’s hand doesn’t stray far, bracing now on Sanji’s arm, the warmth scalding. The cook twitched involuntarily, but didn't move away.

“Maybe you–”Usopp poked a finger into Sanji’s chest to demonstrate his point, “haven’t been drinking enough! S’what a party is for!”

Sanji frowned. He never really found that much fun in drinking alcohol to begin with. Zeff threatened to skin him alive if he ever caught Sanji drinking on the job, and between sneaking smokes or sampling the Baratie’s wine selection, he’d always choose the former. Still, he’s not a mother hen, so he said nothing in retaliation.

There’s a stretch of silence between the two men, the quiet only briefly interrupted by Usopp taking gulps of water one mouthful at a time. Sanji took the moment to shift into a better position, figuring if he was going to be on the floor he might as well be comfortable. He can faintly hear the commotion from outside, if he concentrates hard enough, muffled through the wood. Sanji breathed in deep through his nose, then outwardly sighed likewise. His temper has simmered, finally feeling the relief of stillness, even if for just a moment. Usopp’s ok. Nothing's wrong. All the possible scenarios that Sanji’s mind had conjured were quieted because Usopp was right here with him, safe.

Usopp adjusted himself, having finished his water, and Sanji startled a bit when the younger man leaned against his side, head heavy on his shoulder. The cook went rigid, the subtle tickle of Usopp’s thick curls brushing his bare skin causing his nerves to sing. He’d never been the best at accepting physical affection, and although the Strawhats had brought him well out of his comfort zone, he hated his own awkwardness. But he does like this. Craves it, sometimes, but can never bring himself to voice it. And even if he didn’t, he’d still endure it for Usopp, who he knew deserved it more than he did. If it soothed the ache of loneliness, even just temporarily, Sanji would keep him close all night.

“No,” Sanji said without hesitation, maybe too eagerly, pushing himself closer to Usopp to double the warmth between them. Some of Usopp’s stray curls brushed the hollow of his throat, and something compels Sanji to add, “Why would I be mad?”

It’s a stupid fucking question, of course, especially since it feels like he’s done nothing but laid into Usopp verbally, and Sanji willingly acknowledged he has a short shitty temper; but–that’s the thing, once Sanji’s blown off some steam (sometimes quite literally), he doesn’t linger on those feelings.

Usopp didn’t reply, and the silence made Sanji anxious, not wanting to be misread, but then the sniper’s head settled back on his shoulder, Usopp’s calm puffs of breath so close they’re giving him goosebumps. He couldn’t tell if Usopp believed him or not, possibly too tired to argue otherwise, but it seemed to satisfy him.

Then, Usopp said in a distant voice,“Y’know, ‘Guin said somethin’ funny. Said, ‘Here comes the guard dog’ when he saw you comin' earlier. What’d he mean by that...?”

Sanji’s heart was sent into a full gallop.

Something Zoro had said to him once before, which resulted in an especially volatile brawl between them, came to mind: “Don’t be so jealous, cook.”

It was said in response to Sanji allegedly shooting Zoro a particularly sour look all because Usopp had ducked behind the nearest crew mate after being startled by sudden Marine canonfire, which happened to be their vice captain’s hulking presence.Sanji could’ve punted the shitty swordman’s head right off his shoulders for the accusation. Jealous of what , exactly? Not being Usopp’s personal bodyguard? It was stupid. Even worse to get so pissed off about.

He remembered how Zoro had looked at him, an almost pitying expression to parry Sanji’s explosive anger, a huge fight breaking out when the cook argued on the contrary. Like he knew something Sanji didn’t. As if the answer had been clear to everyone except him.

Almost as if to insinuate–

Usopp’s breathing had finally evened out, the sag of his body letting Sanji know that he had finally surrendered to sleep. He snored softly, nestled practically under the older man’s chin. Sanji released a stuttering breath that he wasn’t even aware he’d been holding. Just like that, the moment had passed and there was none left to witness the trembling revelation that had just struck the cook. It was too much, too enormous of a feeling to simply ignore and yet, Sanji felt too afraid to name it.

So he didn’t. Wouldn’t. Not yet, anyway. He had to examine it later, more thoroughly, because if he went and hurt Usopp for the tangled mess that was his own heart, he would never forgive himself. He allowed himself one terrible, selfish moment: just closed his eyes and buried his nose into Usopp’s hair, lip trembling as he tried to memorize the smell, just in case.

Of all the things Sanji promised himself he’d protect Usopp from, he never could’ve imagined that included him, too.

#sanuso #one piece #mine #god usopp #black leg sanji

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