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luveline · 1 year ago

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maybe like a couple weeks after their first date he runs into r again & roan gets excited

thank you for your request! eddie and roan —single dad!eddie and his daughter roan bump into you at the store and make your intentions clear to one another. fem!reader, 2k

Eddie has biceps of steel from the last few years of constant carrying. Roan doesn't tire him out quickly anymore; he can carry her from the car to the store and back again without aching. It's the lack of hands for lifting things that pose a problem.

Every time he comes to the store he swears he's just gonna grab the one thing he came in for, and every time he ends up with a basket full of stuff he's been meaning to get for the last week or two, bandaids and dish detergent, Roan's favourite cookies because she's been a sweetheart this week even if they're three times as expensive as the okay ones, and even if it all makes the basket heavy as a bowling ball.

"You'll have to go down, you're slipping," he says to her.

Roan is regretfully exhausted today, and doesn't like the sound of this at all. "I don't want to walk," she mumbles.

"I know, sweetheart. Just for a bit." He plops her down on two feet, the burn in his arms mitigating slightly. "There we go. If you be a good girl for me we can get a big bag of candy, okay?"

"You promise?" she asks.

Her little voice makes it impossible to disappoint her. "I promise. You can still hold my hand if you need to."

She holds his hand for a little while. The last things on Eddie's list are actually the first things, the only things he'd come in for —socks for both of them. He noticed that pretty much all of his are out of commission, and Roan's get lost in the washer every other day.

Roan chooses to roam free, but she's learned her lesson since his last heart attack and doesn't wander. Eddie refuses to give her an opportunity, watching her like a hawk. It's why he doesn't notice you at first standing in front of the pyjamas feeling the soft fabrics between your fingers.

Roan skips back to his side. "Daddy, look," she implores, pointing.

Eddie picks up a packet of socks. "Two seconds."

"Look! Look!" she insists.

Eddie tosses the socks in the basket with all the enthusiasm of someone who's been in work for seven and a half hours. "What, babe?"

You've stepped a couple of paces closer, waving at him when he notices you with your endearing, awkward smile.

"Hello, Munsons," you say, in a way that Eddie takes for the shyness of going out with someone and an obvious delight to see them.

"Hey," he says, in the same shy-delighted combo.

Roan giggles infectiously and bounds forward to your legs. You hold your shopping basket out of the way. "Hey, princess! Wow, look at you! This is a pretty dress. Purple's your colour."

Roan rubs her cheek into your thigh. "Hi," she drags out.

"I'd pick you up, but my hands are full," you say. Basket in one hand, keys in the other, you've done the same as Eddie by the looks of things, come in for a quick stop and got distracted. "It's so nice to see you, it's been a whole week!"

Eddie tucks his hair behind his ear. "I meant to call you back last night, I'm sorry. I put her to bed and totally forgot."

Thankfully, you don't hold it against him. If anything, his apology brings an even bigger smile to your face.

"That's okay, handsome." Eddie has to physically hide his pleasure, hand behind his head to scratch at his neck bashfully. "That's just fine, I wasn't worried. I mean, unless I should be worried?"

"Definitely don't be worried," he begs.

Five dates, one of which at his trailer, and a countless number of phone calls between, Eddie's confident that this might go someplace good. He's a wuss, though, for not having kissed you yet. He's trying to be a gentleman (he's scared shitless that he's forgotten how to do it right, and he likes you so much, he really wants to do it right).

"Then I'm not worried," you say, rubbing Roan's little shoulders with your pinky and marriage finger, careful not to rake your keys over her shoulder blade.

"We're getting, uh– the big candy," Roan says.

"Yeah? The movie size bags? Your dad is so nice, every time we talk he's bought you something."

"He's so nice," Roan agrees clumsily.

Eddie shakes his head, "No, it's just my job."

You send him a fond look. "I can't pretend that I know how to do it, but if you asked me, I'd say you were, like, creme of the crop, you know? It's amazing."

Eddie takes that for encouragement. While Roan is busy pressed to your thighs adoringly, he juggles his basket into the other arm for want of something to do while he says, "Wayne offered to take Roan for the night this Friday if I wanted to make plans. Do you– would you be free? We could see a movie."

"I would be, and if I wasn't I'd make myself free," you say.

Eddie really, really likes that about you —you're honest. You don't play mind games. He figures it wouldn't work in your favour anyhow, considering you'd asked him out first, but he still appreciates it. It's nice to feel wanted.

He really needs to kiss you, he thinks. If the moments right, at the movies, maybe he can hit you with the classic yawning faux play and wrap an arm around your shoulders.

"You know I don't mind if Roan comes, right?" you ask.

"I know, but– I kind of wanna focus on you, yeah? It drives me crazy wanting to get to know everything about you and having to wait until the next time we see each other."

"Well," —you look down at Roan, shyness cropping up once more— "I'm not seeing anybody else. It's only you. I really love telling you things, and I'd love to go out with you, just us." You give Roan a blinding smile. "But I'll miss you, princess."

Roan whines with her arms raised. You put your basket down on the ground and crouch to accept a hug that turns to a clinging, Roan's legs wrapping around your waist as you perch your head over her shoulder.

"I'm not seeing anybody else, either," Eddie says.

You pat Roan's back. "Awesome."

Are you exclusive? Just like that? Eddie doesn't think that's how being someone's boyfriend goes, but it's a start. He'll ask you properly just as soon as he knows you enjoy being kissed by him, he decides.

"Ice cream?" Roan asks you desperately.

"Oh, sweetheart, I wish I could. We'll go again soon, okay? That was really fun, watching them scoop the ice cream together. I loved that."

"Please?" Roan asks.

You throw Eddie a save-me look.

"Big candy tonight, and then maybe we can get ice cream another day," he suggests. "We gotta go home to make sure Rufus ate his chicken, remember?"

"Will you come?" Roan asks you. Her voice wavers with a hopefulness that breaks Eddie's heart, honest to God.

She just wants to be loved by you. She adores you. She has from the very moment you met, how you'd fawned at her, called her pretty, she chases that feeling almost like Eddie chases your attentions.

He looks at you and he thinks, Fuck, she's good. Pretty, absolutely. Earnest? To a fault. His track record for reading people's intentions is awful, but he believes without a shadow of a doubt that you're someone worth fighting for.

He decides to lay it on thick. More is more with you.

"Y/N can't come with us tonight, baby, she has things to do. See how pretty she looks? She has somewhere she needs to go tonight."

You fluster visibly, managing to follow his white lie by the skin of your teeth. "I'm sorry, I do have somewhere I need to go. But I'm just so excited to hang out with you and daddy again like we did last week, I had lots of fun."

"And she'll dress like a princess again next time, yeah?" Eddie adds encouragingly.

"I will," you say.

He was supposed to meet you at a nice restaurant for dinner when his sitter cancelled on him last minute. Without qualm, you'd grabbed a bag of Chinese takeout and arrived at the trailer, everything about you working to drop his jaw clean out. Your hair, your split skirt, the way you'd taken Roan into your lap and fanned her face with a fabric fan and cood as her baby hairs blew in the breeze. Princess is the exact right word for how you'd been.

Eddie has more than a crush's worth of affection for you. He's kind of crazy about you, actually. Roan is the same.

"A princess?" she asks.

You nod slowly. "I swear. If you want, I can bring over a little bit of my makeup and we can match. Does that sound okay, dad?"

He's thankful for you turning the authority over to him. It makes it much easier to convince Roan to do as he asks tonight without a tantrum.

"Sounds perfect."

"Okay. Can I give you a kiss on the cheek to say goodbye?" you ask an ecstatic Roan.

She lifts her head for kissing. You brush her hair from her face and peck her round cheek as she begins the process of detangling herself from your torso.

You groan as you stand from a crouch and pick your basket up again. His jaw tenses of its own accord, your perfume sudden and encompassing as you step forward to say goodbye to him.

"I'll see you on Friday, yes?" you ask, face craned upward ever so slightly.

He's not sure he can wait that long. "Yeah, I'll call you?"

"Tonight?" you ask.

"Yeah, tonight. Whenever you want."

"I want tonight, if that's okay," you say.

Eddie squeezes your arm. He thinks it's a lame move until your smile somehow grows. "I'll call you as soon as I get home."

You nod, pleased. With a sweet goodbye wave to Roan, and a kiss so quick to his cheek that he's left wondering if he dreamed it, you and your basket dissappear around the corner toward the checkout.

Roan looks up at him. Eddie grins. "She's nice, right?"

"I love her," Roan says sagely. It's the same way that she says she loves cinnamon crunch cereal or her Dotty Dolly dolls, Eddie thinks, but it could easily turn to the same love she shows her Aunt Robin or numerous Uncles.

Hell, if you're as golden as you seem, Eddie would want her to love you as she loves Wayne, even as she loves Eddie himself. But that's miles down the line and much too much to be thinking about before a first kiss. (A proper one, and not a goodbye one, that is.)

His cheek warm from your lips, Eddie feels suddenly reinvigorated. He shifts the basket into the crook of his elbow and swoops Roan into his arms with the gusto of a stronger man.

"I like her, too," Eddie says. "I love you most of all. Forget one bag of candy, bubby, let's get three."

Roan pulls at his shirt collar mindlessly, "Three of the– of the big ones, daddy?"

"Yep. Three big ones all for me and you."

His love for her is a whole lot bigger than three bags of candy, but it's a start.

They make their way to the candy aisle. Roan recounts your appearance in clumsy wording, though lately she seems to be learning at a pace he can't keep up with. Every day she uses words he didn't know she knew, and better than that, her sentences have begun to stretch. Talking to her is the best way to move that along, so when she asks Eddie what he likes most about you, he talks for twenty whole minutes.

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lunarmothim · 1 month ago

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nevermore - simon riley x reader

part i: grief is a funny thing - in the wake of devastating loss, nothing looks the same.

word count: 1.2k tags/warnings: mention of major character death, brief description of gore, heavy angst, grief, suicidal thoughts, language. implied ghoap.

notes: and here it is! this labor of love (and many tears) has given me grief for the last two weeks. i decided to start off on this blog with a bang and make the boys suffer :) i have this thing plotted to the last chapter and i'm already preparing a preemptive apology. welcome to hell, population us, i hope you enjoy :)

141 SAFEHOUSE 23 NOV 2023, 10:00 HRS SOMEWHERE IN THE UK

Grief is a funny thing.

With all the loss in his life, Simon would have thought he'd be used to it by now- the hollow ache in his chest, the empty spaces in his life no amount of alcohol can fill. Some days are easier than others, the pain reduced to a dull, manageable throb. Others it's like a knife between his ribs, pressure building with nowhere to go as the blood pools in his chest cavity. Either way it's familiar. He should be used to it.

But something about this one feels different, hurts more.

Maybe it's that this one is still fresh, the image of his fallen sergeant still burned into the backs of his eyelids like a macabre tattoo.

Maybe it's that he'd been there for the end, had watched Johnny go down in a spray of blood and brain matter, had pressed trembling fingertips to his neck in search of a pulse he'd already known he wouldn't find.

Or maybe it's that the infuriating Scot had gotten so deep under his skin that Simon couldn't dig him out if he tried, planting the tentative seed of something better, something kind, something he didn't deserve.

Whatever it is, it keeps him curled up in a too-small bed in a dingy safehouse as many kilometers away from London as he could get on half a tank of gas, staring blankly at the wall with a hangover that feels like a pleasant tickle compared to the agony that winds through every crack and crevice Johnny had carved into his armor, filling the spaces between his ribs until it's pressing against his lungs and he can't breathe under the weight of it.

He can't remember grief hurting this much. He doesn't know what to do with it, how to ease the pressure.

Well. He knows one way. Cold steel taunting him from a bedside table drawer, always loaded. Always ready.

Always tempting.

He reaches for it now, one arm stretching out to slide open the drawer. He doesn't pick it up, just running his fingers over the barrel. It would be easy. Pick it up, feel its weight in his palm. A kiss of metal against his temple. A single squeeze of his finger. He considers it. Has been considering it for the last two days, since he'd stood outside the service entrance to the channel tunnel and watched the bodybag zip closed.

Two days. It feels like no time at all has passed. It feels like it's been decades.

Some pieces of Johnny are already fading. Simon can't remember their last interaction, the last thing they said to each other. If he'd smiled, what he smelled like beneath the haze of cigarette smoke that clung to him after tailing the hacker. They'd shared a fist bump in the back of a military vehicle as they approached the tunnel, maybe, a silent see you on the other side that had become ritual over the years. Something instinctual, gravitational, a minute offering of something steady before everything went to shit as it often did.

Fuck. His hand retreats from the gun and slams the drawer shut before scrubbing down his face, the rough fabric of his balaclava scratching at his skin. He remembers a different hand, much gentler, following the same path in the opposite direction to yank it off his head. He drops his hand like he's been burned.

He's so wrapped up in the mess in his head that he almost misses the faint footsteps outside.

The sharp snap of a twig is what cuts through the white noise like static in his ears. It's like a switch flips in him at the sound- in the split second between breaths Simon becomes Ghost, the gun in his hand a familiar weight as he snatches it from the drawer. He rolls off the bed, hitting the floor just as the door is blasted clean off its hinges.

Assess the situation. Heavy footsteps. Boots, multiple. At least six, spreading out around the room. The familiar sound of a grip adjusting on a rifle.

"Know you're there, Ghost." That voice. That fucking voice, that lazy southern drawl that drags him back to that night in Las Almas, Johnny bleeding on the ground- "Don't make this harder than it needs to be."

"The fuck are you doing here, Graves?" His own voice is rougher than usual, hoarse and scratchy, throat still raw from yelling orders in the chunnel. From yelling for Johnny. Focus. He doesn't rise from the floor just yet, straining his ears. No movement, just the sound of tense breathing.

"Got orders to bring you in," Graves answers like it's the simplest thing in the world, and Ghost's eyes narrow. "Alive, they said, but you know how accidents happen."

"Who's orders?"

"Army, CIA, Interpol. Take your pick." The finality in Graves' tone says he isn't interested in answering anymore questions. A shame, really, because Ghost has a lot of them and he'd love to beat the answers out of the smarmy asshole. "Now drop your weapon and come out with your hands up. I won't ask again."

Ghost thinks about it for far too long of a second- putting up a fight he likely won't win. Sure, he's brought a knife to a gunfight against Graves and his Shadows before, he'd stand even more of a chance with a pistol, but his mind is stuck on who'd given the orders. Army, CIA, Interpol. He hasn't done anything illegal- lately- that he remembers, certainly nothing that would put him on Interpol's radar, so he makes a choice.

A shit choice, but if the CIA's involved he's sure Laswell is too. Maybe if he cooperates he can get some answers.

Mind made up, Ghost tosses the gun up onto the mattress. It's not the response Graves wants judging by the way he tuts, but he holds out his hand in a stand down motion to his Shadows anyway when Ghost slowly rises to his feet, fingers splayed wide and hands out to his sides to show them empty. You know how accidents happen. There's no doubt in Ghost's mind Graves would shoot him if he so much as twitched in a way he didn't like.

"That wasn't so hard now, was it? Let's go." Graves taunts, nodding to the Shadow closest to Ghost's side of the room. He doesn't fight it when the soldier zip cuffs him with trembling hands, though he could easily take the kid out before any of the others could react and both he and Graves know it- it's why Graves hadn't come over here to do it himself, keeping what he thinks is a safe distance.

It's not. No distance from Ghost is safe enough for Graves, not when he's part of the reason Johnny's dead.

Makarov may have pulled the trigger, but Graves and Shepherd's egos had made it possible.

Five minutes to confirm a kill, and maybe Johnny would still be here.

He stamps out the spark of pain igniting again along the edges of his frayed psyche, shrugging off the hand guiding him to the door. Despite the zip cuffs that speak to the contrary he walks out of his own volition, ducking his head to slide into the backseat of the SUV on the curb when the door's yanked open for him. He doesn't bother to hide his distaste when Graves slides in next to him, keeping his gun trained on him like he's expecting Ghost to do something stupid.

He won't... for now. Not until he knows what's going on.

Laswell better have a good fucking explanation for this.

part one - masterlist - part two

please like/reblog if you enjoyed! :) dividers by: @/gildui

#it is here #simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #x reader #ktwrites

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bbuzz28 · 5 days ago

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Tate's First Night at the Shack

Transferring some of my Notes App Fiddlestan fics over to Tumblr. Have the most recent as I clean some of the others up a little. Enjoy some domestic af messy men :)

“Do ya really think he’s gonna be alright up in the attic?” Fiddleford asked as he climbed into bed next to Stan. It was easily the 20th if not the 200th time he had asked the same question in the time that they learned Emma- May had decided Tate would be allowed to come spend part of his school break with his father for the first time since the divorce. Stan sighed as he lightly tossed his glasses off and onto the side table. “The only reason he wouldn’t is if he heard ya worryin’ yourself to death from down here Fidds. If we had the resources, I think you’d have reinforced the room with steel- do us all a favor n’ try n’ relax for Moses’ sake.”

Fiddleford continued to stare at the ceiling as if he could see through it. “We both know I’m capable of many a thing, but ya should know by now that ain’t one of ’em. Askin’ me not t’ worry is like-”

“Askin’ a fish to stop swimmin’- don’t I know it cowboy.” Stan wiped his hand down his face, exhausted both physically and mentally. He had hoped the boy’s arrival would settle Fiddleford’s anxiety that had been building in anticipation of his arrival. From what he could see, it was doing the opposite and he didn’t know how to fix it. “Call me stupid if ya want, but gettin’ yourself all worked up ain’t helping either of ya feel better.”

That remark finally helped drag Fiddleford’s gaze from the ceiling, his eyes meeting Stan’s. “ First, I dunno how many times I need t’ say it but you’re not stupid Stanley. Secondly…I s’pose you’re right. I’ve done just about everything I can think of t’ make him comfortable. I even asked him if he wanted me to stay with him, since it’s his first night ‘n he’s in my room n’ all.” Fiddleford nervously wrapped his hand with a bit of their sheet as he continued. “My little Tater, he said I needn’t baby him-that he hasn’t needed a nightlight for almost a year now. If I was worth my salt as a father, I should have known that, Stanley. ”

Stan raised an eyebrow, refusing to feed into his partner’s spiral “your room? It ain’t been your room for a while Fidds, why’d ya tell him that?” Fiddleford broke eye contact, focusing on the sheet wrapped tightly in his fist “well I…I didn’t wanna confuse him none. N’ it’s not entirely untrue. It used to be where I was until we...until I moved down…I just. I don’t think he needs t’ know everythin’ that goes on here between us. I mean, as far as he knows I’m still…well, I am still your research assistant.”

Stan felt half a dozen emotions at once; he finally landed on trying to remain as neutral as possible even though every internal voice was telling him to be angry or resentful or any of the other emotions he would have historically stewed in. “Yeah well, I guess a roadside tourist trap’s co-owner really don’t have the same ring as ‘mechanical engineer’.” Fiddleford looked at him with a face full of guilt, his eyes holding an apology and Stan just waved him off. He knew what they were doing with the Shack in order to save his brother was a major step down from Fiddleford’s previous career at best. And at worst? The voices were right and he would always be something to be ashamed of. Putting on his brother’s name for the world wasn’t going to change that where it mattered.

He reached over and ran a hand up through the Fiddleford’s hair, eventually settling at the back of his neck, his thumb tracing his hairline. “I understand not tellin’ him everythin’ Fidds; we both know what’s in the basement. But he’s yours-which means he’s probably a whole hell of a lot smarter than any kid ought to be. For once, I really don’t think that lyin’ is the best route to take. I mean, how’d he react to us uhh…“bunking” together while he’s here?”

Fiddleford furrowed his brow as he leaned into Stan’s touch “well, I just said that there weren’t enough beds and that both of our backs are too old t’ be sleepin’ on the couch every night. Both of which is true- but I couldn’t read his reaction all that well. He’s just…grown up so much in such a short amount of time. Maybe you were right to be wary of him comin’.” Fiddleford wrapped his hands around Stan’s and closed his eyes-tears whispering at the corners. “I love him so much, but after everything…what if I don’t know how t’ do this anymo-“

“Papa?” A small voice called from the doorway

The young boy stood in their bedroom doorway, fish shaped stuffed animal hanging by his side and his green pajamas wrinkled as if he’d been tossing and turning for the last hour he’d been meant to be sleeping. Both men sat up in bed, Stan immediately making space as Fiddleford beckoned his son forward. “What’s the matter bug? Didja have a bad dream?” Tate shuffled forward until he was stood by Fiddleford’s side of the bed “I want to sleep in here. I’m pretty sure there’s a monster in your closet.” Stan could swear he almost felt Fiddleford’s blood pressure skyrocket at his son’s words; his knowledge of what lay in the forest surrounding the shack clearly running rampant through his head. Before he could say anything, Stan offered the boy his hand across the bed. “Smart thinkin’ kid, we’re stronger in numbers. Let’s agree t’ go check for monsters in the mornin’, okay? Gotta say though, they’d be nuts to hide in one of my closets when they know I’d rather have them as an attraction in the Mystery Shack.”

Tate stared at the outstretched hand for a few seconds before he took it and with some help from his father hoisted himself up in between them, quickly getting beneath the covers and hugging his fish to his chest. “Monsters can’t be seen in the daylight” the quiet boy said as he snuggled in close to his father, keeping his one visible eye trained to Stan’s face. Stan made sure he was giving the boy enough space as he positioned himself on his elbow, throwing a look at Fiddleford before he grinned. “ Again, you’re absolutely right squirt. However, your pop here has special monster specs he cooked up so that we can see them during the day- isn’t that right Fidds?”

Tate angled his face up towards his father, who while still pale at the thought of a monster being anywhere near his son’s room nodded in agreement. “Your uhh…Uncle Stan is right Tater. We will just go check everything out in the mornin’ ” His father’s confirmation seemed to persuade the boy to relax a little, but Stan could tell he was still a little nervous. “I gotta tell ya, wish I had your pop’s big brains back when I had to face my own monster back in Jersey around your age. I know he would have come in mighty handy.”

Tate’s eye widened “ya mean you’ve seen real monsters? Not just all your fake ones that are downstairs?” Stan flicked his eyes towards Fiddleford quickly before he raised his eyebrow down towards Tate. “And who said all my attractions were a sham, huh?” “Momma.” Tate replied very matter of factly. “She said that you and Papa both lost whatever sense ya ever had when ya started foolin’ people for money with your carnie bullspit.” Stan did his best to choke back his laugh as Fiddleford turned a deep shade of red. “Tater! It’s impolite to repeat wh-” Stan interrupted, a grin clear across his face. “No-no, it’s fine Fidds. He has a very smart mother and enough sense to listen to her. We’ll maybe just have to work on his delivery movin’ forward.” Stan winked at Tate and Fiddleford mumbled something that sounded like a prayer asking for strength.

“Now, as for everything being fake…well that’s just not the word I’d use. I’d like t’ say they’re…enhanced. The general public ain’t smart enough to see through the smoke and mirrors like you are squirt. That’s why some of my attraction’s downstairs are not always the genuine artifact. I don’t have to put the real thing on display to get the right reaction from them.”

Tate squinted his eye at Stan, giving him a look far too old for his years- a look he had seen on his father’s face more than once. “Ya said ya have seen real monsters?” Fiddleford made a noise in the back of his throat. “I dunno that monster talk isn’t the best idea before bedtime boys.” Tate scowled and Stan chuckled. “Let’s make a deal kid-I tell you a story n’ the minute ya start t’ get even a little bit scared, your father can kick me out of here n’ I’ll go sleep in the attic with whatever might be in that closet.” Tate’s eye widened as he stuck a small hand out from under the covers “deal!” Fiddleford sighed and shook his head, but Stan noticed the smile that fell across his face.

Stan recounted his (and Ford’s) experience with the Jersey Devil- only changing a few small details (he really wasn’t trying to give the kid nightmares after all.) By the time he was done, Tate had spread out in between both men, fast asleep with his short arms resting on both of their chests. “I don’t know that we’ll be getting him back to his own bed after this. He’s going to want a story every night now” Fiddleford whispered, pulling the blanket higher over his son as he tucked his fish next to him. Stan chuckled, rearranging himself so that he could reach Fiddleford and gently brushed his fingers through his hair “ah well, whatever gets him to sleep. Plus, ya look a lot more relaxed with him in here.”

He turned and made to slip out of the bed when Fiddleford’s arm caught his elbow. “N’ where d’ya think you’re going?” Stan smiled, closing his hand around the one on his arm. “Like I said, you look better already. I can go bunk in the attic, give you both some space.” Fiddleford shook his head “I always sleep better when you’re here. Now that I got both m’ boys within arms-reach, I reckon it’ll be the best night’s sleep I’ve had in years.” That was enough reason for Stan and he rearranged himself in the bed, throwing a loose arm across both McGucket boys. Fiddleford drew Stan’s hand up to his mouth and tenderly kissed the back of it. Stan suddenly couldn’t remember ever wanting to leave somewhere less.

—————————————————————

Early the next morning Fiddleford woke up to the smell of coffee and one less person in the bed. The memories from the night before came flooding back and he couldn’t help but smile. He had been so worried about how Tate would react to Stan and vice versa but he should have known better. Stanley Pines was always full of surprises.

He tucked the blankets back around a still sleeping Tate and made his way to the kitchen. From the entryway of the sunlit kitchen he watched as Stan stood at the sink, nursing a cup of coffee as tears silently streamed down his face. Upon seeing Fiddleford, he quickly tried to wipe them away as he walked towards him. Stan managed to mumble something about there being coffee before Fiddleford’s hands found their way to his face, cradling it to make him look him in the eyes. “What in the world is wrong Stanley?” Stan shook his head and Fiddleford scoffed “oh no Mr. Mystery, not today. You go on n’ tell me what has ya up at the crack of dawn cryin’ this very instant.”

Stan stayed silent for a moment before he melted; wrapping his arms around Fiddleford’s waist and drawing the other man close. Stan touched his forehead to Fiddleford’s for a moment and took a deep breath. He leaned back and looked at Fiddleford with one of the most solemn expressions he had ever seen on his face. “When I woke up this mornin’, everythin’ was just…real. It felt right, wakin’ up next to you two. Perfect, even.” Fiddleford softly chuckled “perfect mean somethin’ different in Jersey n’ this is the first you’re tellin’ me?”

He knew Stan was being serious when his joke didn’t get any reaction, so he waited for him to continue, running his hands down to rest on his shoulders. “This past year with you…not everything has exactly been roses, t’ put it mildly. One thing I know though is that I wouldn’t be half as held together as I am if ya weren’t here. You just make everythin’ so much more worthwhile. N’ now with Tate being here…everythin’ just feels complete. I know he’s not mine or anythin’, but I’ve… always wanted this kind of life. Maybe the details are a little different that I imagined, but it’s true. N’ now that it’s here it…terrifies me.” Fiddleford held his breath as Stan drew him even closer. “That’s why I was worried about the kid comin’ up here. I know how I feel about you, n’ how’d I feel about him because he’s yours. I…I ruin everything I touch Fidds. My life, then Ford’s and now yours might be next. I just don’t know what I’ll do when I end up ruinin’ this too.”

“Stanley, will ya look at me?” Fiddleford asked, his voice barely above a whisper. Eventually brown eyes met blue, both rimmed with tears. “Do ya have any intentions on hurtin’ me or my son?” Stanley shook his head furrowing his brows as he said “but I never set out to ruin things. Just like with Ford I-” Fiddleford put his hand over Stan’s mouth, stopping his next sentence. “ It’s my turn now. Ya said just now that ya didn’t know where you’d be without me-I need ya to know I feel the exact same way. After the incident…I was so lost. I was using that damn gun at every negative thought that I came across. So much so that I felt myself losing my place in reality; my sanity even- but you’ve been my rock.” Fiddleford leaned forward and touched his forehead to Stanley’s, close enough to feel his breath. “You, Stanley Pines, helped me find myself again. I know without you, Emma-May wouldn’t have felt secure in sending Tate to stay here-as well she shouldn’t. but you’re the reason I even have a life Stanley Pines, n’ I’m not going anywhere come hell or high water. Have I made myself clear?”

Stan didn’t say anything- he couldn’t. He was never good with words in any meaningful way, and how could he tell the man who meant the world to him that he understood something so crazy. For some reason Fiddleford chose him, and Stan would do everything he could to make sure he kept choosing him. He poured every single emotion he felt for Fiddleford into a kiss that was eagerly reciprocated. They were a mess, but together they were truly a mess united.

The sound of little feet thudding down the hallway towards the kitchen gave them just enough time to compose themselves as Tate scampered into the kitchen. “I’m hungry” he said solemnly, as if he was telling the men terrible news. “Hi hungry, I’m Stan” Stanley replied as Fiddleford gathered his son up into his arms. “What do ya boys say to goin’ out to breakfast?” he asked, a knowing smile on his face. Tate cracked the first smile they’d seen since he got there while Stan scratched the back of his head. “I was gonna make some Stancakes, but Greasy’s does sound like a good idea.” The trio was in agreement as they made their way to dress for the day, all three feeling a little bit lighter than the night before.

#bbuzz28 #my writing #fiddlestan #stanley pines #fiddleford hadron mcgucket

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cal-daisies-and-briars · 4 months ago

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129 for Switcheroo!

---

Eddie gapes at him.

“You retired?” He asks.

“Yes,” Ramon replies.

“Willingly?”

“Yes, Edmundo. Willingly.”

Eddie huffs out a heavy breath.

“Well,” he says after a moment. “I’m sure you must be going crazy.”

“It just happened. Two weeks ago,” his father explains. “And now I’m here.”

Now he’s here. He almost died. Eddie almost died. The world almost ended, and Ramon Diaz decided, hey, time to retire and try to fix things with his son. Eddie doesn’t know what to think. Part of him is moved, honestly. The part that always sought his father’s approval. That tried so hard to be the boy he wanted him to be. That then, spurned, tried to be anything but that man. That lost little kid in him wants to take this at face value. The father in him? Less happy. The son says, finally. The father says, how could you ever have waited this long?

“Please, son,” Ramon replies when Eddie is silent for too long. “All I’m looking for is a chance not to miss any more of your life. Or my grandson’s.”

This last comment lights a fire in Eddie.

“But you would have never known Christopher at all,” Eddie accuses. “If I hadn’t run into my son, a total stranger, in a grocery store, none of us would have ever known him. And that was a choice.”

“I know, I don’t deserve-”

“Do you?” Eddie cuts him off. “Do you have any idea? Because you missed most of your own kids’ lives, so I can see why it wouldn’t seem like a big deal.”

Ramon flinches. But he takes a steeling breath and looks Eddie in the eye.

“I… I have an excuse for one, but not the other.”

Eddie tightens his jaw and waits. Fine. He’ll listen. But he’s not going to pretend he’s happy about it.

Another deep breath from Ramon.

“For Christopher… It’s going to sound like a lie, but really, I didn’t have the same information.”

“What do you mean?” Eddie asks.

“I… I didn’t… I supported your mother, you know? That’s what you do when you’re married.”

Eddie tightens his mouth. He doesn’t need a lecture on duty.

“But I was away on business, she got the call from Shannon. When she heard about the baby. By the time she got back, all I heard was that Shannon girl got pregnant. Moved on from Eddie fast. I didn’t question it.”

Eddie can actually believe this, which is the problem. It might be easier to know how to feel about it if he thought his dad was lying. He could just stay angry. It’s easier to just stay angry.

“Okay,” Eddie replies cautiously. “I can see that.”

“I should have behaved much differently when I found out the truth,” Ramon continues. “I shouldn’t have backed her up. I love your mother, but she was wrong in what she did. I know that. I’m sorry.”

Eddie swallows. The admission has more impact than he would have thought.

“Thank you,” Eddie says. “I appreciate you saying that.”

If he expects Eddie to apologize in return, for sending them away, for preventing them access to Chris, he won’t, though. He was right to do that. He knows that.

“I don’t have an excuse for not being there for you growing up,” Ramon says. “Or for the way I reacted when you came out to us. All I can say is that I felt… I felt like there was a certain way to do things right, and was very scared of veering off course. I’m sorry.”

Eddie’s throat feels very tight. He doesn’t really know how to reply. He knows the compulsion his father is talking about. Knows what it feels like to walk away from it. He knows it’s something he inherited. Did it just take Ramon decades longer to turn his back on it? Or is this all a charade?

“Thank you,” Eddie says again, voice hoarse.

“If there is anything I can do to make it better between us, please tell me, Eddie,” Ramon practically begs. “I’m just looking for a chance.”

Eddie takes a deep breath. “Um… I want… I want to give you a chance, I think. I just… Honestly, Dad, I don’t know how. I don’t know how to trust you.”

Ramon’s eyes flicker down to the table. He nods shallowly.

“I suppose that’s fair.”

The thing is, though… Eddie doesn’t want to be angry. He’d love for this not to be a gaping wound in him. He’s never wanted to hate them. He has always loved them, and found himself missing being loved in return. He doesn’t want to set refusal to forgive as an example to his son, in case god forbid he ever fucks up so badly it’s a question. Not that he would ever fuck up quite like his parents have. Never.

Eddie would like time and space to process this a bit better than he can right now. But that’s not the scenario he’s presented with. His father has come to apologize and ask if there’s any chance to move forward. Without his mother. Something Eddie wouldn’t have, in a million years, anticipated. So… So, it’s an opportunity. One to accept cautiously. One to measure the benefits and the risks of analytically, rather than from a place of anger. He can do that.

“I’m open to figuring it out,” Eddie says finally.

Ramon looks back up at him, hopeful.

“You are?”

Eddie nods. “It’s… It’ll take me time.”

Ramon sighs, relieved. “Thank you, Eddie. I understand.”

#daisies and briars writes #any other way fic

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kyleoreillylover · 1 year ago

Text

Anger Management

Summary: Sami is sick and tired of you and Kevin's temper tantrums. He decides to do something about it.

pairings: Kevin Owens x Fem!Black!Reader x Sami Zayn

Warnings: Cursing, Fluff!!

word count: 3,651

tag list: @southerngirl41 @venusesworld @jeysbae @reci1996 @tbonesteakwithasideofmashngrav @hope4more @selena-tyler-564 @saintaquarius @whatdoeseverybodywant

a/n: I love zowens. they are so babygirl and have been my brain rot for so freaking long. Hope ya'll enjoy!

"And joining me are the Undisputed Tag Team Champions, Sami Zayn and Kevin Owens, and the WWE Women's Champion, Y/N!"

You walked over to Byron with your best friends on either side of you, the three of you wearing a smile to the camera. Albiet, at least a forced smile on your face. You had too much shit on your plate and an interview was the least important thing on your list.

"Thank you for having us Byron." Sami sensed that something was bothering you and rested his elbow on your shoulder, his touch conveying comfort as Kevin wore a similar forced smile on his face. He knew the two of you were on the brink of snapping as you had over the past couple weeks, but he hoped he didn't have to call you out in front of the cameras.

"No problem. Now, I have to ask you guys, how are you feeling with the Bloodline implosion that happened and we all knew would happen." The fake smiles dropped from you and Kevin's faces ,replaced with scowls that could melt steel.

"Oh my god Byron! Who cares about the stupid Bloodline? Cause I don't care! Don't you get sick and tired of asking these stupid questions about the stupid Bloodline, cause I am!" Kevin quite literally screamed in your ears, his face already flushed red with the force of his frustration.

"Kevin, calm down," Sami said, placing a hand on his arm and attempting to diffuse the situation as the tension in the room escalated.

But you thought Kevin was right. These stupid interviewers should be asking questions about things that actually matter, like I don't know, your championships?

"No, why should he calm down! Every time we're here, it's the same damn questions. 'How do you feel about the Bloodline? What are your thoughts about the new thing happening with the Bloodline?' It's like they don't care about anything else, even though we are the champions!" You glared at Byron, frustration boiling over as you vented your pent-up irritation.

"Y/N, calm down!" Sami was like a broken record, now grabbing your shoulder and trying to ease the rising tension.

"I-I'm sorry, I just asked because of the impact that the Bloodline has on the WWE since their inception-" Bryon's apologetic crap was cut off by Kevin, who was unable to contain his frustration any longer.

"Impact? Impact? You wanna talk about impact? How about the impact we've made as champions, huh? Y/N here is the Women's Champion, and Sami and I are the Undisputed Tag Team Champions! Doesn't that matter to you guys at all?"

"Yeah, doesn't that matter instead of this constant obsession with the Bloodline?" You chimed in, huffing at the repetitive nature of the interview questions. Byron, visibly taken aback, attempted to salvage the interview.

"I-I apologize if it seemed that way. We just thought that given the recent events with the Bloodline, it'd be relevant to—" Byron stuttered, trying to justify his line of questioning.

"Both of you, calm down!" Sami's loud voice echoed in the room, finally making you and Kevin be quiet and stop losing your shit. He took a deep breath, looking at each of you with a calming yet worrisome gaze.

"Look, I didn't wanna talk about this in front of Byron." Your eyebrows furrowed and you exchanged confused glances with Kevin, unsure of what Sami was about to address.

"No no, don't hold back for Byron's sake. Say it." You urged Sami, expecting another defense of both your frustration.s

Sami let out a sigh, looking between you and Kevin. "Alright, fine. You guys have an anger problem."

"......."

"What?" both you and Kevin exclaimed simultaneously, your voices dripping with disbelief.

"Yeah, right!" Kevin snorted, shooting a disbelieving glance at Sami. "I don't have an anger problem. I just don't tolerate nonsense, especially when it comes from idiots."

"Exactly," you chimed in, crossing your arms. "I don't have an anger problem either. I'm just passionate and talk loudly, Sami. You know this!"

Sami shook his head, his voice calm but assertive. "Guys, come on. Remember last week, Y/N, when Shayna accidentally spilled water on you? You nearly went off the rails, ready to take her down."

"She did it on purpose!" you exclaimed defensively, crossing your arms.

"The janitor accidentally pushed her! You saw it!" Sami countered, frustration creeping into his tone.

Turning to Kevin, Sami continued, "And you, Kevin, remember when you nearly went after Vinci for simply walking past you?"

"That baldie shouldn't have been walking past me all smug!" Kevin defended, his agitation evident.

Sami shook his head, a mix of concern and exasperation on his face. "See, that's what I'm talking about. You both have a tendency to overreact to minor things."

"That's ridiculous!" you protested.

"Yeah, we're just passionate about what we do!" Kevin added, crossing his arms defiantly.

Sami sighed deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Alright, here's the deal. If you both can get through the rest of tonight without snapping at anybody or anything, I'll drop it. But if either of you loses your cool, you have to admit to me that you both have a problem."

You exchanged a glance with Kevin, both of you wearing expressions torn between determination and skepticism. You guys totally did not have a problem, and you were gonna prove Sami wrong.

"Y'know what, fine. This is gonna be so easy anyways, you know why Y/N?" Kevin asked, a smug smile on his face.

"I know why. Because we don't have an anger problem in the first place!!" You paused with a smug grin on your face as you caught sight of Sami's knowing expression, the challenge set before you. "Let's get through this night without a single outburst, and then we'll see who's right."

The evening progressed, and Sami remained by your sides, observing the situations with a subtle smirk, occasionally looking at his watch as if counting down to something. You and Kevin did your best to keep your composure, but as the night unfolded, it grew increasingly challenging.

The three of you were walking down the hallway, when a technician accidentally bumped into Kevin, spilling water on him. You and Sami looked at each other in bated breath, anticipating Kevin's reaction. Surprisingly, Kevin's jaw clenched, but he managed to keep his cool, wiping the water off his jacket and giving the tech a fake smile.

"Oh, and it's ice water! You hate being wet and cold!" Sami's words seemed to make Kevin's eye twitch as you grabbed a towel, handing it to Kevin.

"Nah, it's all good! You're all good, dude." Kevin wiped the water off his shirt and forced a smile, much to the surprise of both you and Sami. You exchanged a glance with Sami, impressed by Kevin's composure.

Riddle strolled up to the three of you, flashing his trademark grin. Internally, you groaned, knowing Matt's tendency to spark off conversations at the most inconvenient times. As expected, he turned his attention to you, his relaxed demeanor exuding a laid-back vibe.

"Hey there, champs! Y/N, you're looking absolutely fabulous tonight. How about after the show, we grab some pizza and talk about the universe, man?" Ride flashed a grin in your direction, his relaxed and carefree attitude making your nerves jump.

"Umm, I'm good, Riddle." You tried to give Riddle the hint that you didnt wanna talk to him, but he didn't seem to catch it.

"Bro, c'mon, we can hang out, chill, and vibe together. It'll be totally awesome!" Matt continued, undeterred by your attempts to politely decline his offer.

"I'm really good, Riddle." You tried to signal your discomfort, but Riddle's obliviousness persisted.

"And then we can just kick it, grab a slice, and-" You cut Matt off mid-sentence, unable to take it anymore.

"Riddle, shut your mouth before I-" , Before you could say more, you glanced at Sami's expression, your words faltered mid-sentence. Panic flashed across your face as you realized what you were about to say.His raised eyebrow and warning look stopped you in your tracks. God, the hold this man has on you.

"I, uh, mean, shut up! I was just thinking of grabbing a bite with Kevin and Sami, thanks but, uh, never mind," you stumbled, trying to salvage the situation. Matt, oblivious to the tension, simply chuckled and shrugged, sauntering away in his usual carefree manner.

Sami looked at you with an amused yet knowing expression, clearly enjoying the struggle you were facing to keep your cool. "Smooth recovery there, Habibti. Real smooth."

You rolled your eyes as Kevin patted your shoulder, reassuringly. "You did the best you could with Riddle. That man does not know when to shut up." At Sami's look, Kevin shot his arms out and said defensively,

"Hey, it's true!"

Then, when you were busy doing your makeup backstage, Sami and Kevin sitting with you gossiping with themselves, Vinci and Ludwig Kaiser walked in, their smug expressions instantly causing a change in the atmosphere. You continued to focus on your makeup, hoping they'd leave without any confrontation. But that was just wishful thinking.

“Well well well, look who it is, Vinci sneered, glancing at Sami and Kevin before his eyes fixed on you. "The so-called champions, huh? How's it feel knowing that your reign is coming to an end soon?"

You clenched your jaw, internally cursing their timing. Sami linked both his hands with yours and Kevins, leaning closer as if trying to create a barrier between you and the duo. “To what do we owe this pleasure, Vinci?" Sami replied, trying to maintain a composed tone, though a hint of annoyance slipped through.

Vinci and Ludwig exchanged smug glances before Vinci continued, "Oh, just thought we'd remind you lads and the pretty lady here," Vinci smirked, his gaze lingering on you, "that our time is coming. The Undisputed Tag Team Championships are practically ours for the taking."

“Pretty lady?” Kevin muttered under his breath in disbelief, face scrunching up at the thought of someone like them flirting with you in front of him.

"You two again," You grumbled, visibly frustrated but trying your best to keep your mouth shut.

Vinci chuckled, clearly enjoying getting under your skin. “Oh, that reminds me, I got you a gift, darling.”

Kevin’s eye twitched when Vinci brought his arm out from behind his back and presented you flowers with a mocking smile, his tone dripping with condescension.

“A little something for the lady, you know, before I take your championships and her too."

You clicked your tongue sarcastically, refusing to take the flowers. “I’m good, baldie.”

Sami’s eyes darted between Vinci, Ludwig, you, and Kevin, sensing the tension thickening in the room. He moved swiftly, stepping closer to you and placing a hand gently on your shoulder, attempting to stop the escalating situation.

"Vinci, enough. Take your gifts and your talk somewhere else," Sami interjected, his voice firm trying to steer the conversation away from an inevitable explosion.

But Vinci persisted, pushing them closer to you. "Come on, don't be rude. A lady always accepts a gift."

That was the final straw. Kevin's patience snapped like a stretched rubber band. No one talks to you like that. He lunged forward, snatching the flowers from Vinci's hand. With a glare burning with fury, he threw the flowers onto the ground, stomping on them without any remorse.

“You wanna know how she feels about you? This is how she feels about you!” Kevin stomped on the flowers, his voice raised with anger as he directed his fury at Vinci. “This is how we all feel about you!”

Sami immediately stepped in between Kevin and Vinci, trying to defuse the situation before it escalated further. "Kevin, stop!"

But Kevin was seething, his chest heaving with anger. “No! I’m sick of these guys! I just wanna punch them in the face! So you know what?” Kevin grabbed his titles, pointing a finger in Vinci’s shocked face. “I am gonna punch you in the face! Me you, in that ring, right now!” Kevin left angrily, huffing and puffing. You and Sami watched in disbelief as Kevin stormed off, his frustration palpable, taking your titles and chasing after him.

At least Kevin waited until the bell rang to unleash his rage. This didn’t count, right?

As the night wore on, you both managed to navigate through various situations that tested your patience. However, the ultimate test came when Rhea, your long-time rival, interrupted you and your best friends promo in the ring.

Everyone knows you hate being interrupted!! She made her way to the ring with a smirk on her face, and her presence alone was enough to spike your blood pressure.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't the overrated Women's Champion and her two sidekicks," Rhea sneered, eyeing you with disdain before turning her attention to Kevin and Sami. "And you two, still sticking around with her? Pathetic."

You bit your fist, and it was almost comical the way you were trying so hard to hold your frustration and anger bubbling beneath the surface at Rhea's derogatory remarks back. You exchanged a tense glance with Kevin, who clenched his fists but managed to maintain his composure. Sami stood between you and Rhea, sensing the rising tension.

"Rhea, there's no need for this," Sami interjected, attempting to defuse the situation.

"No need for what? To state the truth?" Rhea shot back, her words laced with venom. "It's quite clear, isn't it? Y/N here is a paper champion, and you two," she gestured dismissively at Kevin and Sami, "are just carrying dead weight. Champions? Ha!"

You struggled to keep your cool, your fists tightening at your sides. Sami shot you a warning look, silently urging you to maintain control. You tried to hold back the boiling rage at Rhea's words, but you were barely hanging on. Rhea got in your face at your lack of a response, smirking smugly, her words laced with malice.

"You know, you're just proving everyone right by staying silent. Can't handle the truth, can you?" Rhea taunted, her voice dripping with condescension.

"Shut up, Rhea." She ignored you, smiling devilishly.

"You are nothing but a fake champion."

"Shut up Rhea."

"You and your boys are nothing but a joke." Rhea's voice raised an octave, emphasizing each word with deliberate malice.

That was it. The last straw. No one talks about your boys without getting their ass kicked.

In a split second, without thinking, your hand swung, delivering a resounding slap across Rhea's face. Rhea quickly punched you in retaliation, causing chaos to erupt in the ring as Kevin and Sami tried to separate the two of you, but it was like trying to separate wild animals.

Hair pulling, name-calling, and nail scratching ensued before Sami and Kevin latched both your arms and finally grabbed you, dragging you out of the ring as security rushed in to separate the brawl between you and Rhea. The backstage area was a frenzy of commotion as Sami and Kevin struggled to restrain your boiling anger.

"Let me go! She had it coming!" you shouted, struggling against their grasp, your rage still uncontainable.

"Y/N, stop it!" Sami's voice was firm, but there was a hint of concern. "This is exactly what I was talking about."

"I don't have an anger problem! She insulted us!" you retorted, trying to break free.

The security guards stepped in, helping to separate the chaos. Rhea was being escorted in another direction, both of you yelling insults and threats back and forth.

"You psycho bitch!" Rhea screamed at you as she was being escorted away.

"Takes one to know one, bitch!" You yelled back, trying to break free of Sami and Kevins' grip, but they literally dragged you out of the arena, the camera capturing the chaotic scene as the broadcast switched to another segment.

They finally let go of you once you were outside, breathing heavily, seething with frustration, and the adrenaline still pumping through your veins.

"I can't believe she said those things about us! She had it coming," you muttered angrily, pacing back and forth. Kevin was equally as angry for you, pacing with you, and Sami just about had enough.

Sami sighed, rubbing his temples, clearly disappointed but not surprised by the outcome. "Y/N, that's exactly what I was afraid of. We need to talk about this."

"Talk about what? I defended us!" Your voice raised defensively, refusing to accept the possibility of having an anger issue.

"Y/N, you lost control. And so did Kevin, with Imperium. We can't keep denying this," Sami explained, his tone firm yet understanding.

Kevin crossed his arms, looking away with a stubborn expression. "I don't have an anger issue. That was just... Imperium being Imperium."

"Guys, come on," Sami pleaded, trying to reason with both of you. "It took you both one night to prove my point."

Sami's expression was a mix of disappointment and concern. "Y/N, Kevin, this is what I was afraid of. You both need to admit that this is a problem."

"No! She insulted us! She had it coming!" you protested, grabbing Sami's hand and trying to make him see reason.

"Yeah, you know how annoying she can be, Sami. You can't expect us to just stand there and take it!" Kevin interjected, his frustration evident in his tone.

"Guys, this isn't about her. It's about us," Sami said firmly, trying to make you both understand. He squeezed your hand, his thumb gently rubbing your knuckles in an attempt to soothe your agitation.

"Look, I understand why you both reacted the way you did. But it's not about just this one incident. It's a pattern. We've had multiple instances where both of you have almost crossed the line," Sami explained, his voice filled with concern.

You sighed, feeling the weight of Sami's words sinking in. "I just... I hate when someone talks trash about us. I can't help but react."

"I get it, habibti. I really do." Sami put his arm around your shoulders, trying to comfort you. "But we need to find a way to handle situations like these without losing control. And the same goes for you, Kevin."

Kevin sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "Fine. Maybe... maybe I overreacted a little."

Sami let out a little smile, it wasn't often the two of you admitted any fault. "That's a start, Kev." He brought him into a tight hug, rubbing soothing circles into his back as a silent thank you for his admission before turning to you, his expression softening. "Y/N, what about you?"

You sighed, not wanting to admit it but knowing deep down that Sami was right. Sami sensed your hesitation and gave you a tight but relaxing hug that left you momentarily speechless. When he pulled away, he looked at you with a gentle yet firm expression, waiting for your response.

"I... maybe I did overreact," you admitted, reluctantly conceding to Sami's observation. "But she was out of line."

Sami nodded understandingly, a small smile making its way onto his cute face at the way you were trying to come to terms with it. "I know she was, habibti. But that's what she wants. She wants to get under your skin, and when you react, she wins."

Sami paused, his eyes meeting yours, his gaze gentle yet firm. "I know you are protective of us, and I love you for that. But I don't want it to be at the cost of your well being. And my ears can't take any more screaming."

You chuckled at his attempt to lighten the mood. "Okay, okay," you relented, leaning into Sami's embrace. "Next time I'll just think of ripping of the face of whoever annoys me instead of actually doing it."

"That's all I'm asking for," Sami giggled, pressing a tender kiss to your cheek. He then turned to Kevin, who stood there with a thoughtful expression.

"Kevin?" Sami's tone was encouraging, yet serious, awaiting Kevin's response.

Kevin scratched the back of his neck, his expression softening. "Yeah, alright. I'll work on it too." Sami smiled at him and leaned down to give him a platonic kiss on the cheek as well,, Kevin's anger melting away with every touch.

There was a peaceful silence until you and Kevin exchanged a glance, both of you having the same train of thought.

"But what if Rhea-"

"No."

"But what if Vinci tries to-"

"No."

"But what if-"

"No buts, guys!" Sami stopped your questions, laughing at your predictability. "Nothing is gonna happen tonight and if it does, we'll handle it together, calmly." Sami emphasized the last part, looking between the two of you with a serious look, as if daring you to object.

Kevin and you exchanged a knowing look, both of you thinking how this adorable puppy dog of a man could scare you more than any opponent in the ring when he's serious. You nodded in unison, accepting Sami's terms, knowing he wouldn't allow anything else.

Sami beamed, pleased that you both agreed. "Thank you. Now, if the two of you don't fight in the car, we can get Waffle House on the way back. Deal?"

"Deal!" You and Kevin chorused, sharing a smile at the thought of enjoying some delicious waffles after the intense night. You linked your arms with Sami and Kevin, walking to the rental car, ready to put the night behind and embrace the comfort of waffles and each other's company.

The two of you knew you'd have to eventually work on your anger, but you ignored that with the promise of delicious waffles in store for you tonight. (And maybe you'd break your promise to Sami by fighting over the bill, but that was future you's problems).

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saeki-rina · 4 days ago

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Runaan is kinda out of character in season 7 of The Dragon Prince

I decided to start this thread because I haven't come across anything similar yet and the issue is bugging me. I would appreciate your thoughts and opinions because I'm very curious if anyone else has had a similar impression or has any other ideas about where it might come from.

My feelings after watching The Secret of Aaravos were like, "Runaan is out of character. He's not himself anymore, not completely. Man, he's become less believable to me as a character." I started to wonder why. Here's what I've come up with so far.

1. Runaan started looking out of character for his age.

In The Secret of Aaravos, Runaan looks younger to me than in The Dragon Prince. And much younger. What's the logical point of that? Even if we assume that while trapped in the coin the aging process stopped for him (which is not confirmed in any way, as far as I know), still - Runaan should look at least the same age as in Season 1. Not younger. Sure, maybe the team just decided they preferred a slightly changed/"new" character design, but still - it makes me as a viewer confused. Because I look at Runaan and just think "why did he suddenly get a decade younger?".

And I know Ethari also seems to look a bit younger with her new hair compared to Season 3, but not enough to be confusing. It's entirely possible that a new haircut or different clothing can make you look younger (I believe that's what Ethari is going for). But Runaan hasn't changed a bit in his appearance, and he still - looks much younger.

Credits - I know, the artstyle depends on artist, but still - chrologically younger Runaan looks more like in season 1 than 7

Bloodmoon Huntress

artbook

season 1

season 7

I noticed that Runaan already looks a bit younger in season 1, when he's not serious, irritated, angry, etc., but still, not as young as in season 7. There are limits.

2. Runaan behaves inconsistently with his character.

I don't mean like all the time, but in very situations. In my opinion, it comes down to a few things:

A) in season 7, Runaan's facial expressions are often inadequate to the original character creation.

I really understand the plot situation (2 years in the coin, regaining freedom, Rayla, a chance to return to Ethari) and the fact that Runaan could have changed - become more gentle. And it's no wonder that he's often sensitive this season, after all, he's in the company of Rayla or Ethari.

But I have the impression that the creators wanted to show how much is going on emotionally in Runaan so much that they overdid it. And there's nothing left of the ''COLD AND SHARP as steel'' assassin. His face is so expressive, he constantly seems lost and sad (but like a puppy, not an elf who after 2 years of absence might not keep up with the world).

I love the scene of returning to Ethari and the subtle smiles when she looks at him after picking mushrooms or during dinner, and the fact that he's also shown when he's grumpy [ ''Runaan's expression sheet is the only one to not feature a smile. This elf exclusively broods'' (The Art of the Dragon Prince), ‘’ our favorite broody assassin’’ (https://thedragonprince.com/runaan-birthday/)] . Very interesting, after seeing him only on duty or in prison in Season 1. But most of what is in Season 7 seems to me to be out of place for a serious, composed assassin.

In my opinion, the flashback from Season 3 did a very good job of balancing Runaan's standard seriousness of his expressionless face (or just neutral) with a situation where tenderness towards someone close to him creeps in. It looked natural and very believable.

B) some gestures do not fit Runaan's previous portrayal

Runaan's body language this season is strange to me. Even if he is lost after two years, hurt, tired - ok, I understand. But while in Season 1 his movements were decisive, confident, and - I really don't want to refer to stereotypes, but I can't find a better comparison, for which I apologize - "masculine", in The Secret of Aaravos Runaan sometimes moves strangely "softly". Maybe it's the animation, maybe the choice of shots, their fluidity, I don't know. But for me, even during the mission with Callum, Runaan no longer has the confidence in his movements that he had in season 1.

Unfortunately, I will refer to stereotypes again, sorry, but these are simply the only comparisons that came to my mind.

Two gestures in particular do not fit Runaan's creation so far. The first, when he looks at Silvergrove, putting his hands to his chest, and the second, when he tells Ezran "And yet with grace and strength, you have managed to lead with kindness". I know what the creators wanted to show, but I think the way they did it does not fit how Runaan was presented to us. In both situations, she looks more like the archetypal delicate and sensitive princess, not like a composed assassin who deals with many emotions and changes in mindset. Don't get me wrong, I'm not saying that Runaan (or a man in general) can't be sensitive or delicate. I just think that it would be more consistent with Runaan's personality to show all of this in a more subtle way. For example, in the first situation Runaan might simply fall silent at the sight of Silvergrove, his gaze becoming softer and more thoughtful, camera focusing on his face (like when he saw a dragon egg or coins with Lain and Tiadrin in 1 season).

Apologetic but still self-aware worrior talks to king like that? It's hard to believe for me.

3. Runaan seems more like Rayla's brother than father

Because of his younger appearance, some indecisiveness in body language and a strange impression of "girliness" (again, sorry), as well as some plot situations, I stopped seeing Runaan as Rayla's father. At most an older brother, but it was really hard for me to convince myself that he was the same elf as in Season 1 or Bloodmoon Huntress.

And sure, I understand that maybe they wanted to show that now Rayla is taking care of him, that they are more equal, that Runaan allows her to take responsibility and prove herself. Still, the probably intentionally comical scene of Runaan resting and setting off to Ethari came across to me as if Rayla was scolding her siblings, not the adult elf who raised her. I understand that Runaan is impatient here and could have acted unwisely, but in my opinion it was a bit over the top.

In my language version, Runaan's voice actor changed - from someone with a ''typically male" voice to someone who sounds very "young". I know that this definitely affected my perception of Runaan, but then I watched all the scenes in English for comparison. It was better - now Runaan JUST LOOKED younger. But it still wasn't the Runaan from Season 1 or 3.

Summary

The more I think about it, the more I feel that Runaan's character in Season 7 is not consistent with what the creators presented in Season 1, 3 or the books (art book, Callum's Spellbook, Bloodmood Huntress).

I am deeply disappointed, because I followed this series mainly because of the Runaan, Viren and Aaravos storylines. And in each of them I see certain clashes and puzzling decisions of the writers. But nothing persecutes as much as the "new" Runaan - younger, more delicate (at times "girlish"), who says that he is Rayla's father, but somehow does not give that impression (cause he seems to be too young for that).

I do not understand these methods of the creators. I know what they wanted to show (maybe the confusion, the more delicate side of Runaan, his uncertainty, the change of previous beliefs about himself and his profession), but the way it was done does not convince me.

And although there are moments that I absolutely love and consider credible in the context of Runaan's personality (and the only problem is his younger appearance) - for me his character is no longer consistent with what we have seen and could read about him so far. In season 7 he's so often just looks like a lost, uncertain, delicate pretty princess to me.

I do not see in him that mature, determined warrior with the aura of a protector.

I feel more like I've met his twin brother - very similar in appearance, but very different overall.

season 1

season 7

#runaan #runaan tdp #ruthari #the dragon prince #tdp spoilers #tdp s7 #the mystery of aaravos #moonshadow elf #character design #let's talk about #character changes #character consistency #thoughts #dissapointment

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ilovefakemilitarymen · 1 year ago

Text

Deal with the Devil

~Professor!John Price x Student!Reader (Part Three)

____________________________

Read Part One Here: x - Part Two: x

Word Count: ~3.4K

CW: Minors Do Not Interact, NSFW, Smut, Inappropriate Teacher/Student Relationships, Sexual Tension, Praise Kink, Name Calling (good girl, sweetheart), not really much aftercare, AFAB Reader, She/Her Pronouns, Unsafe Sex

A/N: I thoroughly apologize for making people wait on this, have some good smut to make up for it! As always, if you think I should list something in the warnings please let me know!

The next morning, you wake up before your alarm goes off, and you take your time to just stare at the ceiling. The day before had felt like a dream and, in all honesty, you weren’t entirely sure it wasn’t. You can’t get the feeling of his rough hands on you out of your head.

It’s a problem of massive fucking proportions.

A problem so big that, by the end of this, you’re not sure the grade will even matter. You’re not sure if he’ll even have his job by the time the semester ends if this carries on, but, despite everything telling you no, your finger still hovers over his name on your phone.

It’s almost two hours before your first class with him. One hour before you probably should give him a call. You really can’t find it in yourself to care about whether or not he gets an extra hour of sleep.

Fuck it, you press your finger into the button, and the line is ringing. It does so for a couple of moments, and he doesn’t answer right away, but he does answer.

“Good morning, love,” The words roll off of his tongue, the sleep that coated his voice yesterday morning isn’t there but he’s breathing heavily. His words draw you in, letting you know, that yes, yesterday was in fact, real. It wasn’t a dream. “Did you sleep well?” The same question from yesterday, but his voice is dripping honey even through the receiver.

You had fully expected him not to pick up this early, but here he was, heavy breathing on the other side of the phone and calling you ‘love’. You run with it, his breath is sending heat straight to your core.

“I slept pretty well,” You say, and then a sick idea goes through your head and you’re nothing if not impulsive, so you let the extra words out, “Pretty wore out but I slept well.”

The chuckle he sends back to you makes a tingle run up your spine.

“I can imagine…” His voice trails off, and you can hear something in the background. You can’t place exactly what it is, but his breath comes out heavy. “What can I do for you this morning?”

Something sounds like metal clashing, coming through the receiver.

‘I just wanted to hear your voice.’

You don’t let that part slip, instead, you tell him about his schedule, “I just wanted to tell you that you have your morning class at about 10, and then what looks like a lot of free time before your evening class, around 3.”

“Thank you for the reminder, darling, but…” His voice drips from his lips, and he’s not holding back now, he repeats himself, “What can I do for you this morning?”

Your breath nearly catches in your throat, “O-Oh,” You stammer, the meaning of his words loud and clear. He hums, and he’s a smart man, he knows why you called him. Under the guise of telling him his schedule, he knows what you want. He knows what you need.

“Just keep talking…” Your voice is barely above a whisper. “What are you doing?”

You can hear the sound of a door opening, and then, after a couple of moments, can hear a car door shut.

He huffs a small laugh before he speaks and the sound of metal isn’t there anymore, but you get your answer to what it was, “Just at the gym, gorgeous…waiting for you to tell me what plans you have for all that free time that we have after class.”

“I have a couple of ideas…” Your voice is barely above a whisper, trying to steel your nerves.

“Is that so?” He sounds entertained, “What might those be?”

He’s a fucking menace. He wants you to say it. He wants you to tell him exactly what you want, and it sends electricity through your veins.

“Well…” You breathe out, “I was thinking you could bend me over that desk in your office.” The words come out, and you’re trying your best to feign innocence even though the words coming out of your mouth are anything but.

“I do enjoy the sound of that,” His voice comes out too normal across the phone, and it just spurs you on. He’s too in control, and you’re not sure if anything you say could ever get him to break his stoic attitude.

You decide to test him anyway.

“Want you to wrap your hands around my throat and fuck me till I can’t walk back to my dorm...sir…” You add on the last bit breathily, knowing it’ll just get him more excited.

He sends a light groan across the receiver, and you know you’ve got him. It sends your heartbeat to rest between your legs.

“I didn’t take you for such a slut, (y/n).” He seems proud of himself when he speaks, knowing he’s the entire reason for your words.

“Just for you, sir.”

He hums happily across the phone, and you finally let your hand come to rest against the arousal between your legs, but he cuts off the thoughts going through your head, edging you without even realizing it.

“I’ll see you in class,” He starts, and you know your time with him is over, “and then we’ll have some fun, darling.” You can hear his car start before the phone line cuts out and you can’t help but groan and toss your phone to the side.

He’s a menace.

But he’s a deliciously hot menace...

And two can play that game.

You move to get up and get ready, pulling a skirt out of a drawer and sliding it on before a devilish thought crosses your mind.

You slide your underwear off, tossing it to the floor before continuing to get ready.

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

You cross your legs, hiding from him, but his eyes still rake over your form, taking in the expanse of skin on your legs. He turns from you quickly, hiding whatever response you had ignited in him. He’s at the front of the class, and in the middle of his lecture.

He writes on his whiteboard, and you take a moment to watch the muscles of his back, eyes following the curves directly down to his ass, and you take a moment, contemplating, before you finally decide to open your legs, leaning back in your desk chair.

It’s in nobody’s view but his, and you wait for him to finish writing and turn back to the class.

His eyes drop when he finally turns back around, moving exactly where you had wanted them to, and he clears his throat, eyes pulling from your exposure. He has a small smirk on his face when he starts talking again, and he’s nothing if not stoic.

You wanted to break him.

You wanted to watch the lust fill his eyes.

You keep your legs open for a moment, and his eyes dart back to you every so often, taking in every bit of your form. You close your legs while his eyes are on you, pulling your knees together and he turns back to the whiteboard, pointing, and you know there’s no reason for him to do so. He’s just trying to pry his eyes off of you before he snaps.

He finishes the point he’s making, that you have definitely not been paying attention to once again, but you can’t find it in yourself to care this time around.

“Alright,” He finally finishes up the class, “Do the reading.”

It’s all he can get out, waving a hand to the students, dismissing them. You look down at your phone to check the time.

Thirty minutes early.

You stay in your seat, keeping your legs closed and he waits patiently for the last of the students to file out of the room before he makes his way over to you. You try to ignore him, packing your things, but every cell in your body feels like it’s on fire.

“I bet you’re fucking proud of yourself, aren’t you?” His voice comes out low, nearly a growl when he finally speaks up.

Time to sell it.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Your eyes find his as you speak, making them as big as possible as you look up at him.

He doesn’t say anything, just presses a foot into yours, kicking slightly so you’ll open your legs up for him again. He drinks you in now, and you let him for a moment before you close them again, moving to get up and bend over to put your things in your bag, giving him a pretty view.

You barely have a chance to grab your bag before he presses his hands into your hips, tugging you in the direction of his office. You let a sly smile grace over your features, following after him towards the back of the classroom.

The door clicks shut and you hear the lock, and you stride over, resting against the front of his desk, and he looks like a man starved.

“We might need to have a talk…” He speaks, walking with an air of confidence that would put you on your ass if you weren’t holding onto the edge of the desk, “About teasing me in class like that.”

He’s in front of you once he finishes his sentence, legs moving to spread yours further apart before he reaches for the edge of your skirt.

“Are you gonna punish me, sir?” You match his energy, words moving like silk when they finally fall out of your mouth. You give him a slight smirk, watching the way his eyebrows raise.

“I’m gonna do more than that,” There are mere inches between the two of you now, and all you want is his lips on yours.

He won’t give it to you just yet, though. His hands move to bring your skirt up, hands gripping your hips and moving to face you towards the desk as he throws the material to rest against your lower back, leaving your ass exposed to him. You brace your hands against the wood, and he pulls your hips up against his, and you feel his bulge for a moment before he pulls you away.

“I didn’t realize you could be such a fucking brat,” His words are dark and you feel his hand come down to smack hard against your ass, a sharp sound pouring into the room around you and you moan, pushing further into his hands. “We’ll fix that.” He speaks, his voice much closer to your ear now, and his breath fans against your neck before he pulls back further from you. His hand hits heavily against your other cheek now, and he rubs the area as it turns red.

His fingers move to barely press against your heat, making you shudder as he lands another smack to your ass with the other hand.

“So wet for me already,” His hand moves over your hip, trailing up until it rests nicely against your throat, “What’s got you so excited?”

His words are torture and everything in you just wants him to go ahead and split you open. Fuck the foreplay, you need him now.

“Y-You do…” Your voice breaks as it comes out, barely above a whisper as his hand gives your throat a gentle squeeze before moving to rest against your ass. He smacks against your ass again, rubbing the abused skin lightly.

“What was that?”

“You do, sir.” Your words come out louder as you try to press back into him, but his hands move to grip your hips in an attempt to keep you from moving.

“Good girl,” His words make a whine push itself out of your throat. It’s ridiculous how quickly he’s reduced you down to nothing.

“Your good girl.” Your words are thick with desire, and he chuckles, letting you push your hips back against him, no doubt making a mess out of the front of his pants.

“Yeah,” His hand lands another smack on your ass and you moan as it starts to tingle, “You’re my good girl.”

Your mind is fully clouded now, lust and pain, the sound of his voice and the feel of his hands are the only thing you can think about. You’re ridiculous. Nothing but a few smacks and your entire confident demeanor reduced to whining just for him.

He loves it.

His hands grip heavy on your hips as he pulls you back into him, raising you up off the desk before moving you to sit down on the top of the desk he moves between your legs, hands running across the expanse of your thighs before he’s picking the edge of your skirt back up.

“Hold it,” he speaks and you move your hands to grip onto the fabric as he drops his hands back onto your thighs. The roughness practically melts the soft skin as he moves to rub his thumbs against your inner thighs, close enough that you clench around nothing.

You’re absolutely dripping for him, and you finally break. “Please…” Your words are barely there, but you can’t help but try.

“Please?” He questions you, thumb barely grazing your clit before both of his hands rest against your exposed thighs, and it pulls a sound out of you that you didn’t realize you could make.

“Please, sir.” You look down at his hands, watching as he rubs the skin of your thighs.

“Tell me what you want…” He watches you, taking in the way your face shifts from pleasure to pain as he pulls his hands away from you. He gives in, moving to your clit as quickly as he had pulled away. He rubs circles into you, breaking you down piece by piece, and you let out a broken moan. You move your hands to the front of his pants, barely getting the button undone before he moves them. “Use your words, gorgeous.”

He holds your hands in his, the other continuing to rub against your clit.

“Fuck me...please,” You’re delirious, drunk on him and all he’s done is tease you, and you buck your hips into his hand.

“Such a good girl for me,” He speaks as he finishes undoing his zipper, pulling himself out of his pants and moving his hands to grip your hips before he pulls you closer to the edge of the desk, forcing you to lay back onto it. You’re spread out for him, legs hanging onto his hips as he presses the head against your clit, rubbing and watching the way your face contorts.

He presses the tip into you, and the stretch of being unprepared for him is drowned out by the sheer pleasure of finally having him, but it’s cut short as he pulls back away from you. You let out a sound that’s somewhere between a sob and a whine as he pulls the one thing that you’ve been craving away from you.

Your hands are moving of their own accord, slipping into his belt loops and pulling his hips flush against yours. It doesn’t put him where you want him, and in reality, makes your cravings for him even worse as the fabric of his pants presses into you.

He lets out a groan around his words, “That’s not how you get what you want, gorgeous.” He breathes out, and your own want is mirrored in his eyes. He’s pushing you, prodding at you until he has you crumbling under him, tearing you apart at your seams.

“Please,” Your words come out heavily, a deep whine pulling out of your chest as you throw your head back against his desk.

As soon as your attention is off of him, he pulls his hips away from yours, lining himself up and sinking into you. The stretch has a growl dragging out of your throat and his following words only push you further into the feral feeling in the pit of your stomach, “Such a greedy cunt...Isn’t that right, baby?”

It nearly has your eyes rolling into the back of your head, and the sound you let out is damn near pornographic, and you can only bring yourself to nod at him eagerly as he pulls his hips back, plunging back into you hard enough to push you further up the desk. His hands move, pulling your legs up and his hands grip onto your thighs and he pulls you back, dragging you back down the desk onto his cock. Your hands grip onto the edge of the desk, keeping yourself still as he thrusts back into you, slowing his pace. His eyes are on you, drinking you in as one of his hands glides down your leg enough to grip onto it and throw it over his shoulder.

His thrusts move into an easy pace, enough to give you both pleasure, but not enough to push you over the edge. Even with his cock pressed into you, completely to the hilt, his main goal is to watch you break.

His hands are on your thighs, his left resting on the inside of your thigh as the other grips the leg that’s thrown over his shoulder. He runs his left hand along the expanse of your body, pressing under your shirt as he pulls it up, exposing you further to him before his thumb presses into your open mouth. The faint taste of your own arousal fills your mouth as you close your lips around it. His pace picks up then, as he’s finally got you where he wants you: a mess under him, begging, pleading with your eyes.

His hips snap into you at a rigid pace, and his thumb in your mouth muffles any sounds that come out of you before it finally pulls out, moving down your body until it rests on your clit, rubbing languid circles that don’t match the tempo of his thrusts but it pushes you further either way. All it takes is a groan from him to push you over the edge, your heat clenching around him as incoherent words and moans fall out of your mouth. He fucks you through it, his hand moving from your clit to grab your chin, forcing your eyes on him.

“That’s it, love… takin’ me so good…” He says in between thrusts, squeezing your cheeks as he takes in the mess he’s made out of you. Your chest heaves, your eyes half-lidded as syllables make their way out of your mouth in a prayer that’s made only for his ears. In your hazy state, you’re not sure when his own release comes, and you can only feel his hips stutter before he’s pressing himself fully into you, filling you up before his lips come down to press against yours. He lets out a growl, nibbling on your bottom lip as everything falls quiet around you. The sound of your moans, the dull thud of his still-clothed hips hitting hard against yours, is replaced by the sound of your shared labored breathing. His kiss turns more tender and you try your best to reciprocate it in your now completely tired state.

“You did so good, baby…” His words fill the silence, “So good for me.” The both of you share breaths along with light kisses as you come down, and his demeanor shifts so quickly that it would give you whiplash if you had more of a mind to think about it. You still feel like mush as he pulls out of you, fixing his clothes before he’s pulling your shirt back down with tender hands.

His arms wrap around you, lifting you off the desk before he’s making his way over to the small futon on the other side of the room and he sits down with you, letting you rest against his chest as you both collect yourselves in the dim light of his office.

Minutes pass, maybe even an hour, but your only focus is on the rise and fall of his chest.

“You okay?” He finally speaks, and it comes out tender, the gravel of his voice caressing you in a way that makes a shiver run up your spine. You nod, not trusting your voice just yet and he presses a kiss against the top of your head as his hand moves to scratch at your scalp to provide some extra comfort.

“Gonna have to come back for more than extra credit…” You mumble out after a couple more minutes, your voice absolutely destroyed, and you nuzzle further into his chest until your breath is bouncing off of his neck. Your words have tugged a light laugh out of him.

“Gonna have to cancel my next class…” He says, wrapping his arms tighter around you.

Fuck his next class.

Fuck the extra credit...

#call of duty fanfic #cod x reader #john price x reader #call of duty #call of duty smut #call of duty x reader #call of duty x you #captain john price #cod x reader smut #fanfic #john price

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featheredclover · 7 months ago

Text

Carmine Veils

Chapter Three

Read from the beginning

Also on Wattpad

Chapter Two< > Chapter Four

The clock struck one, and it’s bell gonged its hourly tune. Khushi woke up startled.

She looked at the the door separating her from bodyguards’s chamber. She was waiting for the royal physician to bring her some news about his progress.

She swallowed painfully as she recalled the events which lead to his injury. It was her stubborn self which had caused him to be hit by the poisoned arrow meant for her. Her eyes smarted with tears. She stood up, pacing restlessly outside, where he lay fighting for his life.

The creak of the door broke into her repentance as the physician stepped out.

“ He is all well, just needs to rest for one more day and he will be alright. He is a quite a warrior, a lesser man would have succumbed by now” he replied with a genial smile and bowed as he left.

She let out the breath she was holding. Straightening her relieved posture, before she could stop herself, she barged into his chamber.

His good arm was resting over his eyes, while the other was bandaged up.

He looked up at the interference.

Khushi had to steel herself to not break down crying.

But her woe begone face was enough for Arnav to know.

He attempted to sit up, succeeding only partially.

The sight of his bare torso sent shivers down her spine. It was glistening with sweat beads in the moonlight.

She shook her head to stop herself from ogling at him.

His wince dragged her attention back to him.

She rushed towards him, grabbed his arm and entwined in both of hers. Pressing it against her lips, she began to speak,

“ Arnav, I am so sorry. I can’t imagine how you must have felt saving this stupid girl from killing herself. I should have listened to you! I am beg you to forgive me. I can’t believe you got hit by that…that arrow…

I swear you don’t even have to speak to me, just know that I take responsibility for this and I will never do anything you tell me not to do. In fact, I won’t move an inch ! Yes, if you order me to remain in my bed all day I will remain in the same pose for the rest of the day I promise!”

She stopped then because she felt Arnav shivering. Concerned she peered into his face, and to her surprised relief found him shaking with silent laughter.

His eyes met hers then. He gave up and succumbed into a flurry of laughter.

“Khushi”, he pressed his thumb against her lip “ I accept your apology. And yes I’ll make sure you don’t go running into a forest again, even if it means chaining you to your bed” he said with a grin lighting up his face.

Khushi stared at him as if struck.

Arnav raised a perfect brow.

“ You called me Khushi “

It was Arnav’s turn to be flustered.

“ I am sorry Rajkumari…I am drugged by your physician that’s why I am not in my sens-“

Resting a finger on his lips, she whispered

“ I like it.I don’t want you to call me anything else. “

——————

Clambering to her feet, Khushi poised her sword as she faced Lavanya again, who infuriatingly stood with a smirk lining her perfect face.

“ Focus Khushi! “ Manorama instructed “ I don’t know what’s gotten into you but if you continue to miss out defending such swings you’ll find yourself splattered on the battle field without a head to your name!”

Khushi sighed as anxiety filled her being. She couldn’t help glancing at Arnav. She thought they had made progress that he could finally be with her the way she knew he was with others. It hurt her to see him back to his formal, ever polite self after that heartfelt moment they shared that night.

She still flushed recalling the feel of his lips under her skin. The next day he had been asleep most of the time and she had fluttered around him making sure to not let him feel an ounce of discomfort. But the day he got back to duty, seemed like the end of the bond they had shared.

The afternoon went by with Khushi performing half heartedly in Manorama’s lessons.

Her despair only swelled when she saw Lavanya using a feather to mark his bandaged arm with her beautiful ink. She had no where to run today, so she sat through the torture as the sun began to set.

—————

A knock resounded in Arnav’s chamber. Khushi stood with her fists clenched, determination clouding her eyes.

As soon as Arnav let her in, she spoke “ Do you hate me?”

“ What? Rajkumari…has there been a lapse in my duty? “ a frown creased his forehead.

“ STOP IT! There is no need to call me Rajkumari and you know it! And yet you persist. You draw this line between us-“

“ That is my place in this court and you are the rajkumari. This is our hierarchy. And you expect me not to follow it?”

Khushi stared at Arnav. He looked strangely agitated, his teeth biting into his lower lip and his eyes refusing to hold hers for more than a second.

She breathed in deeply.

“ And yet that hierarchy doesn’t apply with Lavanya and Payal? They are both minister’s daughters. And yet, Lavanya gets to make you laugh, paint on you with her ink, touch you ? Admit it Arnav you just don’t like me. You can tell me. I’ll ask my father to let you guard Lavanya…maybe..maybe marry her soon. And I’ll get a new guard. You shouldn’t have to put up with-“

She looked up to see Arnav had crossed the distance between them, and held her hand in his.

Before she could register the battle in his eyes,her eyes fell shut, as she felt his lips slam onto hers.

Arnav slid his hand across her waist and pulled her with a hard tug towards him. The soft movement of his lips,the feel of his hand against her waist, the slight tremble rising within both of them was too much for her. Her arms slid up his shoulders, the nails biting into his skin. She thrust herself forward, not caring that there wasn’t an inch of space between them. Arnav groaned, as he grasped her jaw and pushed her against the wall.

Pulling away, Khushi found his beautiful eyes arresting her in a spell. He held her arms above her head, while peppering short kisses across her jaw, down her neck.

She hissed in shock as she felt his teeth bite into the skin at the nape of her neck. She moaned helplessly, biting her lips as she felt overwhelmed.

He didn’t give her time to think as he took her lips between his again. Minutes or hours passed, she wasn’t sure. She pulled away, her eyes still shut, as she tried to catch her breath. She felt Arnav resting his forehead against hers.

She fluttered her eyes open to see him. She smiled softly, and her heart sprang up again as he shyly grinned back.

Next chapter>>

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#carmine veils #ipkknd #ipkknd fanfic #iss pyaar ko kya naam doon #arnav x khushi #arnavsinghraizada #khushi kumari gupta #ipk 13th anniversary fiesta #mine

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sweaterkittensahoy · 10 months ago

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Okay, so what you have to understand is that Jack Kidd did not want to be Air Exec. At all. That was for someone who didn't get the rush every time his wheels started picking up speed. And that wasn't him.

Yeah, he knew he'd likely die up there in the air. He's not a fool. He's a sharp realist. Forts are slow. Fighters are fast. They'll be bombing in clear daylight.

When he goes up the first time and makes it back, he's sweat the pomade from his hair (he won't be the last), but he's also come back.

So, when he finds out that fucking Cleven has gotten Egan out of Air Exec duties, and his own name is now on the list, he's ready to punch someone. Two someones. Right fucking there in the mess hall.

All that stops him is that Egan clearly didn't mean to do this to him. They get one another, Jack and Bucky. But also, Jack wants to drown Bucky is his coffee cup most days. Because as much as he loves the thrill and danger of his wheels going faster and that 10-man fortress going into the air, it only works as well as it does because of military discipline.

And on the list of things Bucky Egan does NOT have and had definitely NOT enforced amongst the men, is military fucking discipline.

But also, Bucky has taken Jack's boys from him. He's got a co-pilot, a navigator, and all his gunners who are gonna get handed over to someone new or--worse--broken up, and Jack wants to spit nails.

He goes to the new Colonel ready to fight to stay in a fort. The new Colonel sees his face and says, "Ah, you must be Major Kidd. Do you want to go first or should I?"

Jack's knocked sideways because Harding's question is sincere. He wasn't expecting that. The few career military men he's met have been, well, fucking insufferable.

"Go ahead, Sir," Jack says. Because military discipline.

And the Colonel explains. Yes, he wants Kidd to take over for Egan, and yes, he was recommended, but also, Harding's done his reading, and he truly believes no one but Kidd can pull together the 100th in the way that they already know they're going to need.

"We need a man on the ground with a good head on his shoulders. Same we need a man in the air who can keep those boys in formation."

"And you think Egan is the guy who can keep them together up there?" Jack says. No snide tone. No sneer. Just a question. He's intrigued.

"You need someone who won't ever admit it's as bad as it is," Harding says. "Half the battle is the men believing you."

Jack considers that. Chews on it long enough that Harding gets up and pours them both a cup of coffee.

"How do you take it?" Harding asks.

"One sugar if we've got it," Jack says.

Harding drops in one sugar and brings it over. Jack sips it. He thinks a little more. "Okay," he says. "But my boys--"

"We'll find a new co-pilot for your co-pilot," Harding says. "I wouldn't dare break them up more than I absolutely have to."

"And you absolutely have to?"

Harding nods slowly. There's sympathy in his eyes. "I really think I do, Major. I really think you're it."

Jack looks out the window at the runway and thinks about the thrill of his wheels going faster and faster until there's enough power that his fort lifts into the air. He mourns in for a moment, that feeling. But in its place, already, is something new. Something important. "Okay," he says. "I'll try it out."

He tries it out. He hates it. But he can also see no one else can do it. Not because he's especially good at paperwork or plans, but because it's a job that needs a steel spine but a soft heart.

And, well, that might be Jack.

He can discipline with the best of them. But he also knows them, all these boys. He knows the fear and thrill and worry and ecstasy of being up in that fort and coming back. Harding gets him on a couple more missions as something like an apology for taking all those feelings from him. It's risky as hell. Letting the Air Exec fly his own fort with his own boys until they find a co-pilot who fits.

So, he can discipline, but he can also understand. When you've nearly sobbed over the radio because the men to your left and right have gone down and there were no chutes, you have to let it out somehow. Jack's one of several kids with a family with much of the same. Those Cleveland Catholics don't fuck around. Sometimes the only way to get those feelings out is a punch out with an RAF man behind the pub (and goddamn Curt can punch like a champion). Sometimes it's loud singing after curfew. Or taking complaints from villagers because the friendly invasion bonded by pissing into a post box.

And sometimes it's knowing full well who pulled the prank and pretending like he can't possibly solve it.

"This has Payne's fingerprints all over it," Harding says to Jack one morning as they stare at a hand-drawn map of the world that has been tacked over their usual map in the tower, each country somehow wearing an impressive phallus (points for Bubbles not taking the easy route with just slightly reshaping Florida).

"Oh, absolutely," Jack says. "But he didn't sign it, so who knows which navigator possibly could have done this?"

And Harding pauses, then he laughs, and then he pats Jack on the back. "You make a good point," he says.

And if the world map ends up in the officer's club, well so be it. The Red Cross girls have seen and heard worse, and they end up making it even funnier when a few of them who know their geography start adding tributaries to rivers.

And then Rosie Rosenthal shows up just as everything goes to absolute shit. Buck goes. Then Bucky. Then Rosie's the only one to come back from Munster, and Jack takes the interrogation himself. He can't make himself assign anyone else. It isn't fair. They agreed to take notes in a crowded, rowdy room of boys. Not this. Not trays of undrunk rum. Not even a whole crew because two are injured and one's dead.

And then Rosie Rosenthal goes to the flak house, and Jack wonders if he'll actually come back. How do you get back in a fort after the one, two, three of those missions?

But he does.

And that's when Jack knows he's where he should be. He knows he couldn't come back from what Rosie's been through. But he knows he's the guy who might get that guy to 25.

And he does.

And then Rosie reups, and when Jack finds out, he punches him in the stomach. To his credit, Rosie grabs Jack by his lapels and yanks him to the floor and punches him in the jaw.

"Where fucking else could I be, Jack?" He asks thirty seconds later as they lie side by side and pant through the pain.

"Fucking HOME."

"I'm already fucking here. I won't put this shit on someone else's son."

Jack sighs and rubs his jaw and thumps Rosie on the arm, but not enough to be a threat. "Goddamn you, Rosenthal," he says because he feels a kinship in his bones. Because he feels the same. He can't let anyone else take this fucking awful job from him. Can't put anyone else in this spot to count how many boys don't come back. "If you die before the war ends, I'll kick your ass when I see you in hell."

"I'll keep the fire going," Rosie promises. "How's Harding?"

"a little more alive than last week," Jack says. "He might be a bigger fucking idiot than you."

"How do you figure? He can't re-up his gallbladder."

"No, at least you're not ignoring you're being a fucking idiot."

And Robert laughs and gets off the floor and pulls Jack up after him, and they go and have a drink at the officer's club. And when Rosie announces he's staying, he throws an arm around Jack's shoulder, and it helps, a little, to have that arm there while he's the guy who had to tell everyone they got pushed to 30.

#jack kidd #character study #i am just having a lot of feelings #masters of the air

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writing-time-bitches · 11 months ago

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Let Us Depart// PLA au

I had thoughts and now i blab about them. Enjoy this prologue for a possible series ⚠️minor emetophobia warning

Masterlist// one

“Hark, man of steel serpents. I have a request of thou.”

Ingo, unable to move or even speak, stayed silent. The resounding voice rang almost painfully in his head, as if he were speaking with a ghost.

“Mine request is simple. Accompany the child and ensure their safety. Their safety is of utmost importance, as is yours, commander of serpents..”

‘Is it?’ Ingo couldn’t help but question. The voice chuckled warmly and he felt it’s warmth blanket his numb body. He realized he couldn’t see anything. It was all black, not even his owns callous hands he could catch sight of.

As if the void around him could hear his thoughts, light began to poke through before erupting in white. Blinking away the light spots in his vision his unadjusted eyes were welcomed by a sprawling field of pale pink roses and lavender flowers. A breeze picked up behind him, causing his long black coat to flutter against his calves. He felt a hand gently place itself on his shoulder.

Snapping his head to owner of the hand he saw a familiar face. Or at least, one that feels familiar. The man’s face was pulled into a small grin and he was clad in an white version of what Ingo himself wore. A long, heavy coat with rusty red accents over a black button up shirt and slacks, completed with a blue tie and white loafers.

How did he know what those clothes were called?

“I apologize if mine temporary form causes you shock. This is the one that seemed closest to your heart… I thought it best to use this one.” He said with a friendly smile, silver eyes glittering a faint gold in the center. Ingo felt his throat was unnecessarily dry,”…it’s alright..”

Closest to his heart? Ingo couldn’t help but sneak a look over the other again, studying the readable body language and seemingly permanent smile on his face. The longer he stared, the greater the feeling of deja vu; like he knows who this man’s real identity is but he couldn’t place his finger on it, it was at the tip of his tongue. Who was this? Who had the voice taken the form of, and just how close was he to Ingo?

The man tilted his head, swaying back and forth leisurely with an oddly worried crease to his brows and asked monotonously,”You don’t know who I mimic?”

Ingo blinked, caught off guard by the question,”Should I?”

The man in white’s eyes narrowed a fraction and he mumbled something garbled and uncomfortably foreign under his breath. He shook his head,”Perhaps the child will help you remember…”

“What child? You spoke of assisting my future passenger on their commute… who are they?” Ingo asked. If he were to do as asked he should be privy to more information about this seemingly important child.

But silence answered him before words,”I don’t know. I will know when I know, as of now… I’m sorry but I don’t know.”

Ingo’s frown deepened and his untrimmed eyebrows furrowed, scrutinizing the stranger beside him,”… you ask to watch over a child and yet don’t know what they look like or where they’re from?”

“Oh no, I do know where they are from. After all, it is the same as you.”

He froze,”… from the rift above Mt. Coronet?”

The man toothily smiled, a crooked and mischievous thing. It sent a dreading shiver down his spine for some reason,”The very same.”

Suddenly, Ingo’s stomach leapt to his throat and at the same time the world around him wavered, as if a stone had disturbed a puddle’s surface. Queasy beyond normality he clutched his stomach with heavy, trembling breaths and he slowly fell to the ground. The stranger’s smile turned into a tense line, one that he somehow knew to read as a frown,”It would seem our time is up.”

With a painful throbbing behind his eyes Ingo winced and closed his eyes tight, nausea growing worse. He could feel the world around shifting and break apart except for the warmth of the man next to him.

“I pray that thou heeds mine request. Truly, it is important to the vast fields of Hisui and the people who live there. It is also important to thou.”

‘What does that mean?’ he wanted to ask, but just pulling his lips back caused an overwhelming urge to vomit surge through his body. He gasped through the bitter nausea and felt something round and comfortingly warm poke into his spine,”Until we meet again, Ingo.”

“Now, awake from our dream and prepare for the child’s arrival. Stay alive.”

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anyon-else · 1 year ago

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Of Humble Origins and Born of the Cursed Sex (The Red Room pt.12) | After seven months, Kakashi and Naruto finally find you in an abandoned HYDRA outpost. However, you're not the same person that they remember. (Marvel AU) – spotify playlist | read on ao3

Pairings | Kakashi Hatake x Black Widow!Reader + Sakura Haruno, Sasuke Uchiha, Naruto Uzumaki, Ino Yamanaka, Orochimaru, Kabuto Yakushi

Warnings | female!reader, ANGST, brainwashing, torture, electrification, violence, weapons

Word count | 6.7k

(previous chapter) | (next chapter) | (series masterlist)

"I am someone who did not die when I should have died."

Anne Carson, Grief Lessons: Four Plays by Euripides

Six months ago

My girls will change the world.

You're useless to me now.

Be proud to call yourself a Black Widow.

You're even useless as a lab rat.

You will build me an empire.

Killing you now would be too merciful.

I'll teach you how to kill. I'll teach you everything I know.

I'll teach you how to be human.

I will take care of you until you're no longer of use to me.

I can protect you both.

Don't fail me.

Don't do this.

"I'm sorry, Kakashi," you whispered, reaching out into a sea of memories and grasping at nothing but water that spilled between your fingers. Each of your memories felt impossibly far, and all you could do was watch helplessly as they fell away into a vast emptiness that was quickly consuming your mind. You saw flashes of pink and yellow and grey. You pictured smiles that appeared on ghosts and heard familiar laughter that echoed within your thoughts. You felt taunted by it.

But you were tired. Far too tired to do anything but watch as each of your most precious memories fell into oblivion. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry I failed. I'm sorry."

Your mouth was moving without your permission, repeating words that you hoped would bring an end to the pain. Words that would make a difference if they were the ones he wanted to hear.

But he didn’t want apologies. He wanted submission.

He leaned over you, silver hair reflecting the light shining down on you. His eyes were harder than steel and his mouth was twisted into a grimace that you could clearly see through the thin black cloth of his mask. The expression looked wrong on him, and for a moment you remembered that this wasn't the true face of the man standing above you. It was a trick. Orochimaru...this was Orochimaru. He was tricking you—trying to confuse you. Kakashi wasn't here. He wasn't hurting you—he wouldn’t hurt you

But the thought slipped away as quickly as it had come, and after another shock of electricity made your limbs seize and your back arch against the unforgiving steel below you, it was Kakashi's face that you saw staring down at you.

You knew Kakashi. You held onto his memory like a vice. But as each day passed, you wondered why you were clinging so tightly to the memory of someone who was so cruel towards you.

It was his face you saw each time you felt that aching, raging pain in your head. It was his eyes that watched as the pain spread throughout the rest of your body. It was his smile that you stared at each day as hope drained from your limbs and left you a lifeless husk of a Widow.

Kakashi had betrayed you. And as each day passed with no respite or relief, you felt that betrayal turn into rage. Rage at the world. Rage at HYDRA.

Rage at Kakashi.

"Please..."

I'll teach you how to be human.

"Useless," Kakashi muttered, repeating the word that you'd heard countless times since this began and feeling it like a knife in your chest. The pain wouldn't stop. Not if you kept failing.

But he wouldn't tell you what he wanted. You would do anything he asked if he would only make this pain go away.

I can protect you.

"Again."

Electricity flooded you once more, and the silver hair taking up your field of vision blurred behind a blanket of tears.

You're not a lost cause

Words that you barely remembered now had been your anchor for so long, but you were starting to wonder why you were holding on so tightly. Maybe letting them slip through your fingers would be easier.

As the memories that you once considered the most precious ones you possessed floated into an abyss within your mind, you wondered why you had ever tried to hold onto them in the first place.

Don't do this.

Cold fingers gripped your face, and you looked at Kakashi's cruel eyes staring down at you. His fingers tightened on your cheeks

"Let me go," you mumbled, feeling a cold shock of fear as you looked into the steely face of your tormentor, "don't touch me."

Behind his mask, Kakashi's lips split into a grin, and you pressed yourself against the metal beneath you in an attempt to put distance between his unrelating grip and your face. His nails dug into your exposed skin, and you felt blood bloom through the cuts that formed as he gripped your face tighter and tighter.

Pain erupted in your chest once again. You closed your eyes and reached for an anchor and found nothing but darkness.

You wondered why you felt as if something was missing. You wondered why looking at Kakashi’s face above you each time the pain stopped felt so wrong.

But wondering was becoming exhausting. Instead of pondering on the answers, you let the questions slip far, far away.

Kakashi's circumstances had given him ample experience with suppressing his emotions.

It wasn't a skill he'd gained willingly. After so much loss and death, shutting out emotional responses to crises was almost instinctual. He felt that same instinct creeping towards him as he watched his bullet sliced through the air in near slow motion.

You didn't move. For a moment, he wondered if the world had frozen around him. Maybe it would give him a second chance and allow him to reach Naruto before the boy even found you.

Instead, the bullet continued on its path towards your hand, which moved only slightly, but not quick enough to be out of range. The movement gave Naruto enough time to dive to the ground, but neither he nor you had to worry about where the bullet would end up.

It hit the wrong target, lodging into the shoulder of a new figure that shot out in front of you.

Despite the force of the bullet entering her shoulder, Ino stood in front of you like a steel wall, blocking you from Kakashi's field of vision. Kakashi took in a deep, barely controlled breath and tried not to let his relief show on his face.

You and Ino both watched as Naruto scrambled to his feet and rushed towards Kakashi. The boy moved as fast as he could while running backwards and keeping his eyes locked on Ino and the gun that she was prying from your iron-tight grip.

Ino groaned, clutching her bleeding shoulder but remaining still and sturdy in front of you. Kakashi strained to get a glimpse of your face; any hint as to what you were thinking would satisfy him, but Ino let out a snarl when she realized what he was doing.

"You're so stupid," she growled, "why would you do that?"

Kakashi opened his mouth to respond—to tell her that you were very clearly bracing yourself to pull the trigger and kill Naruto, but the words got lodged in his throat when he heard a pained grunt come from behind the blonde girl's rigid body. Ino froze, attention shifting away from Kakashi immediately as she turned towards the source of the sound. The movement gave Kakashi enough of a glimpse to understand what had happened.

The bullet's trajectory had shifted. What was originally intended to hit your hand had changed its course through Ino's shoulder and ended up lodged in your chest.

"Ino," you muttered, emotionless and robotic. Ino cursed, removing her hands from her shoulder and letting them hover over your bloody shirt. Even from a distance, Kakashi could see that her fingers were beginning to tremble, "sorry, Ino. I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize, idiot," Ino shook her head, though the words were muttered with little malice. Instead, Kakashi saw deep concern in Ino's furrowed brows and the gentle movement of her hands. She tore away your shirt to reveal your bloody hand covering the wound, both it and your chest already coated with blood.

Deja vu tore into Kakashi like a knife in his stomach, ripping away at him and punishing him for all of the people he had hurt. The seeds of sorrow and guilt that had taken root when he couldn't stop you from leaving began to climb between his ribs and up his throat. The vines and leaves choked him and the thorns slied him open from the inside and he had to fight to keep himself steady.

You looked completely void of any emotion. Like the body he was seeing was simply a vessel, and you were somewhere deep inside of it, protecting yourself from the rest of the world and allowing your limbs to move on autopilot.

"Hey," Ino snapped, glaring your bloody fingers and scowling at the lack of response she got. "Stop it. You're only going to make it worse."

Kakashi could see blood oozing between your fingers in a dark red stream. It took a few moments for him to realize why Ino was chastising you—you had begun digging your fingers into the broken flesh, and blood was gushing from the wound faster than Ino could manage.

She pried your tense fingers away from where they were clutching your bleeding chest, finally giving her a good view of the damage that the bullet had done.

Kakashi hoped that it looked worse than it actually was.

He saw Naruto flinch from the corner of his eye, and he could practically feel the anger radiating off of the boy.

"What is this?" Naruto rumbled, hands curled into fists at his sides as he stared at you and Ino, "what happened?"

Kakashi shook his head, watching helplessly as Ino lifted your shirt over your head and pressed it firmly against your chest. You raised a hand automatically to hold the bloody cloth to your wound, eyes still clouded and distant.

"I can't believe this," Ino was grumbling, shaking her head like a disappointed parent as she stood and wrapped her own shirt around her shoulder to try and stop her bleeding. Within a few moments, she was kneeling at your side again. "I spend all this time trying to convince her that—hey, hey! Stay with me."

Your head was lolling to the side, and Ino's stoic expression finally broke. Fear etched across her features as her frown deepened, eyes widening each time you almost lost consciousness.

"Shit," Ino snapped, tapping your cheek and cursing again when she got no response. Kakashi stepped forward, finally allowing himself to close the gap between you. "You have a hospital, right?"

Kakashi nodded.

"Good. We're going there."

Kakashi swallowed thickly, wide eyes watching you try not to pass out as Ino gently coached you. He could still feel Naruto at his back, silently seething at the state they'd found you in.

It had been so long. So long since he'd seen you. Since he'd even known whether you were alive.

He watched the rise and fall of your chest intently, counting your shallow breaths and holding his own after each of your unsteady exhales, afraid that you would stop moving altogether the second he looked away.

He had done this to you. If you didn't wake up, it wouldn't be because of Orochimaru or HYDRA or any other threats that he desperately wanted you to be free from.

It would be his fault. His hands that ended your life.

"Kakashi-sensei," Naruto said lowly, voice sounding far away in Kakashi's distraction, "we found her."

Kakashi froze, eyes on his student as he radiated silent, tense anger. That was anger for you. Naruto didn't fear you anymore—not like he did the first time you met. Now he knew your heart, and he knew that this was not the same person who had left to protect them all. Something had happened, and it was obvious that they were missing crucial pieces of the past six months.

But through the worry and the questions and the endless guilt that plagued him, one thought brought Kakashi enough relief to get him moving towards the jet.

Finally.

Sasuke could tell that something was off even before he entered the conference room with Sakura.

Kakashi had told them nothing about how he and Naruto's mission had gone. In fact, Sasuke hadn't seen either of them in the hours since they'd returned. All he and Sakura knew was that it hadn't gone as planned, that neither of them were hurt, and that Sasuke and Sakura needed to wait a few hours before they could hear about it.

The waiting gave Sasuke a lot of time to wonder what could have happened on such a routine mission to cause this kind of delay.

"Do you think...maybe they found–"

"Don't," Sakura held a hand up. The two were standing in front of the closed conference room door listening to the muffled voices coming from inside. Sasuke heard Kakashi's voice, low and monotone, and he steeled himself for a worst case scenario.

Missions like this never went wrong. He honestly felt that calling it a mission was too generous. It was more of a training exercise to get Naruto more familiar with field work that didn't involve fighting. Naruto was talented—something that had only recently gotten easier for Sasuke to admit—but stealth wasn't exactly his strongest trait. That was why Kakashi chose an abandoned HYDRA outpost—to give Naruto some low-intensity field training.

Sasuke had looked into location himself. It was used for research in the eighties, but it was abandoned only a decade after it was built because of a data leak and subsequent raid by SHIELD. It was the perfect place to teach Naruto the finer points of stealth missions.

So, taking all of that into account, Sasuke was having a hard time understanding what had gone wrong.

"You two can come in," Kakashi said, voice muffled through the door. He sounded exhausted.

Sakura didn't hesitate to push the door open, but she stopped the second she got a good look at the room.

Sasuke immediately tensed when he saw a stranger sitting casually across from Kakashi and Naruto. She didn't look hostile, but Sasuke knew from experience how deceiving looks could be.

But judging from Sakura's expression, she knew who this woman was.

"Ino?" Sakura croaked, taking a small step forward before thinking better of it and waiting where she had easy access to the doorway, "what....what are you doing here?"

"Sakura," the stranger—Ino—said with a nod and poorly hidden relief.

Sasuke could immediately tell how much Ino was hiding from Sakura.

"It has...I can't believe—I mean, you're here. How...not that I'm not happy to see you, but I–"

Ino stood when Sakura began rambling out questions, and by the time she had begun asking the third, Ino had wrapped her arms around the girl and pulled her into a tight hug. Sasuke tensed, but Kakashi shot him a sharp look that told him not to interfere.

Ino grunted when Sakura lifted her arms to reciprocate the affection, masking her pained expression with a smile. Sakura backed away and narrowed her eyes, giving Ino a long look before her eyes shifted to Ino's shoulder.

"What happened?"

"It's nothing to worry about," Ino shook her head, sitting back down across from Kakashi and rolling her shoulder back, "there are other things that we need to talk about first."

Sakura was spiraling. Sasuke could see how overwhelmed she was without even seeing her face, and he stepped beside her.

"What's this about, Kakashi-sensei?"

"You should both sit down."

"Who is that?"

"Sasuke, now's not the time–"

"We found Y/N!"

Silence fell over the room. Kakashi deflated, running a hand over his face and confirming Naruto's statement with a small nod.

Sasuke swallowed. His throat felt like sandpaper. He fought the urge to turn to Sakura.

It had been seven months. Seven months since they'd gotten any answers. Any hint of what had happened to you.

"Where?" Sakura asked, leaning forward with her hands on the table and her wide eyes trained on Ino. "Where is she?"

"She's in the infirmary, but–"

Sakura was already moving, one hand on the door handle by the time Kakashi and Ino reached her. Kakashi grabbed her arm to halt her movements while Ino kicked a heel in front of the opening door, forcing Sakura to still.

"You can't see her right now."

"Why not?" Sakura asked, deathly calm and steadier than Sasuke felt. However, upon closer inspection, Sasuke saw that she looked moments away from losing her composure. Sasuke chanced a glance at Naruto, but his friend just stared at Sakura, devastation clear in is expression.

"I'll explain why," Ino said pointedly, glancing between Sakura and an empty chair next to Kakashi, "but you need to calm down and listen."

Sakura was practically shaking, hands balled into fists and trembling like she was seconds away from punching through a wall to get past Ino. Sasuke was not unconvinced that she could manage it.

"Sit down, Sakura," Ino ordered, finally getting the girl to back into the chair that Kakashi was pulling out for her.

"I guess there's no point in trying to hide things now, "Ino swallowed. "I've been working for Orochimaru since he left HYDRA."

Sasuke only knew about Ino from Kakashi's explanation of what had happened on your mission. He had no reason to trust her, and he certainly wasn't going to start after hearing this.

Kakashi had likely accounted for that when he placed Sasuke next to Naruto. He had his hands on Sasuke's shoulders before he could even stand to leap for Ino. Sasuke was shoved back into his seat and given a hard pat on the shoulder. He stayed pinned there by Kakashi's glare and Sakura's shockingly unfazed expression.

"I shot Y/N under HYDRA's orders, but if I hadn't been working for him, I would've killed her. HYDRA wanted her dead. It was Orochimaru who told me to keep her alive."

"Why?" Sakura choked, "Ino, what happened?"

"I told her that the bullet I shot her with was poisoned, and that the syringe I gave her contained an antidote, but that was a lie. The 'antidote' was actually a tracker. That's how Orochimaru knew where Kakashi's house was."

Kakashi had apparently not been informed of that fact yet, and this time it was Sakura holding him in place. She was squeezing it far too tightly for it to possibly be comforting, but shockingly, she looked like the calmest one in the room.

Perhaps she understood Ino's actions better than they ever could. Sasuke wondered if she would've done the same if their positions had been reversed.

"Orochimaru's experiments were all too flawed to be applicable to actual field He could speak and act through them because he was connected directly to their minds, but his control slipped easily, and there was always a point where the subjects essentially became robotic. Orochimaru gave them a command and they carried it out, but they were sloppy. Their performance declined, and trying to give them complex orders was very taxing on Orocihimaru.

"And because he wasn't producing results that would be viable in the field, HYDRA decided that they would only continue to fund his projects if he applied the Winter Soldier program's memory suppressing machine to his experiments. It had already yielded results, and while it wasn't exactly what Orochimaru was working towards, they saw it as a fair compromise. Orochimaru did not.

"He continued the experiments without taking HYDRA's input into consideration. Then he kidnapped Sakura. He thought it would give HYDRA an advantage over someone as important as Kakashi, but all it did was put an unnecessary target on HYDRA's back. But HYDRA only found out about her and his unauthorized experimentation when she and Y/N escaped. Those were his three strikes."

"I knew that Orochimaru had the capability to kill Sakura, so I approached him and offered my services in exchange for her safety. I didn't think..."

Ino looked thoroughly uncomfortable now. They were all vaguely aware of why Orochimaru was removed from the Red Room. None of this was exactly surprising.

It was what came next that was still a mystery.

"I want you all to know that this wasn't what I intended when I made the decisions that I did. But after I started working for Orochimaru, there was nothing I could do. He could've gone to HYDRA and told them that I was a traitor whenever he wanted. I...it was selfish, but–"

"It's okay, Ino," Sakura smiled, though it was obviously forced. She knew better than any of them that Orochimaru was not an easy man to defy, and on top of that HYDRA was a far more terrifying beast when one was put in the position of a double agent.

"He wanted Y/N because, aside from Sakura, she was the only Widow that HYDRA didn't control. He could get to her without having to go through them. He thought that if he brought them a Widow who could be controlled using the memory suppression machine, that they'd give him his position back.

"Wishful thinking," Sasuke muttered. Ino huffed.

"Well," Ino said, "you know as well as I do that Orochimaru is nothing if not stubborn. And he was desperate. Y/N was the only option he had left, and he deluded himself into thinking that anything he tried would be enough. He was also under the impression that the Red Room would fail without him."

"Would it?" Sasuke asked quietly

"No," Ino responded at the same time that Sakura scoffed, "it would do just fine."

"So why did he do all of this if he knew that they might not let him back?"

"Because he's delusional," Sakura answered immediately, "and he thinks he's a God."

"And he never imagined that they wouldn't let him back," Ino added, "but the machine didn't work on Y/N. At least, not in the way it does on the Winter Soldiers.

"The reason that the machine was used in the first place was because the recruits for the Winter Soldier program needed to become blank slates, completely susceptible to suggestion. In simple terms, it uses an outdated form of electrotherapy to wipe the memory of the subject. But Widows are very different. We're taught to be able to withstand torture at the age when normal kids would be learning addition. That was part of the reason why Orochimaru didn't want to use that method in the first place."

"So he knew it wouldn't work?" Naruto asked.

"He had a feeling. At the very least, he knew it wouldn't have the same effect as it does on someone without the Red Room's training. But he hoped that it would...well, for lack of a better word, he hoped it would reprogram her. He saw her as broken because she was able to resist the Red Room's conditioning and escape. He thought that the machine could be a way to bring her back to a state where she would be more susceptible to suggestion. That way he could show HYDRA that he was able to recondition an escaped Widow."

"But it didn't work?" Naruto whispered.

"No," Ino swallowed, "it didn't."

Ino glanced at Kakashi, a nervousness in her expression that made Sasuke uncomfortable. He wasn't sure how much more of this he wanted to hear.

This was the same man who held Sakura hostage for four years. This was the monster that haunted both your and her nightmares.

Sasuke felt his hatred like it was another entity inside of him. He greeted it like an old friend.

"For the first two months, he did the same thing every day. He used the machine, then Orochimaru would ask her questions. About her loyalty, about what she remembered. A lot of the questions centered around Kakashi. He acted like...Kakashi had somehow replaced him."

Sakura shook her head, hands clenched into fists on top of the table. Her hands were trembling with barely suppressed rage, and Sasuke knew that she would be in the gym releasing some of that anger on some poor punching bag after this meeting ended.

Maybe it would do him some good to join her.

"It wasn't pretty. But it also wasn't working. I tried to tell her that...that letting go of you both would make it easier. That it would make the pain stop. But it was like some part of her refused to give in. Even as her memories became scrambled, she still knew that you meant something to her.

"Orochimaru decided to change tactics after he saw how little progress he was making. He figured that, if he wanted her to let go of her sentiments and fully submit, he'd have to make her fear the person she refused to let go of. So he disguised himself as Kakashi and let her see his face each time they used the machine."

Sasuke thought back to the first time he'd seen you, long before he became close to you and certainly before he began trusting you. It was one of the first things he'd heard you say, and it was a warning to Sakura about this very circumstance.

"This is a trick. They’re trying to test our loyalty by showing you someone you trust. They’ve used it on me countless times. You may think you know this man, but you don’t."

"But if it didn't work...why doesn't she recognize me?"

Sasuke flinched. This wasn't fair. None of this was fair.

He wished more than anything that he'd killed Orochimaru when he'd had the chance. The man had been right in front of him the day you left, but he'd been too worried about Sakura to pay attention to anything else.

Guilt consumed him. He couldn't even bring himself to look at Sakura

She must hate you, a voice in the back of his mind whispered, you're no better than–

"Just because it didn't do what Orochimaru hoped doesn't mean it didn't have a significant effect. There's a lot missing from her memory, including any real memories she had with all of you after she escaped. The only reason she remembers Kakashi at all is because she thinks he tortured her."

Kakashi winced, eyes falling shut in the first outward display of emotion that Sasuke had seen from the man since Ino had started talking.

"By the time six months had passed, it was clear that the machine had done more harm than good. She became...a shell of herself. She was no good to Orochimaru if she couldn't hold her own in a fight, and after six months, Orochimaru had lost his leverage and knew that you were going to start searching for him. So he abandoned the experiment and left.

"The outpost you found us at was where Orochimaru was doing the experiment. He left her there and told me that he didn't need me anymore, so I stayed with her to make sure she didn't die. The first week...well, I'll spare you the details, but it wasn't pretty. I forced her to eat, but she didn't sleep for five days."

The silence in the room felt thick enough to choke on. Sasuke felt something within him snap at the sight of his teacher with his head in his hands.

"I tried to convince her that you aren't her enemy," Ino said slowly, looking at Kakashi. He slowly lifted his head to look at her, and Sasuke was alarmed to see that his eyes were glazed over, "but that kind of fear doesn't just go away. I thought I was making at least a bit of progress, and then..."

"Then I shot her," Kakashi murmured. Sasuke watched as far too many emotions crossed over Sakura's face in the few seconds before she turned to look at Kakashi. Anger, grief, understanding, devastation...he wasn't sure which she was going to land on when she finally acknowledged the man sitting next to her, but when she finally looked at him, her face was blank.

"What?" she whispered.

"I..." Kakashi repeated, "I'm sorry, Sakura. I thought she was going to kill Naruto, and I—"

Sakura puts a hand on the man's shoulder, silencing him. Her eyes were wide, moving back and forth as if she was trying to put together this endless puzzle that was becoming more complex by the minute.

"It's okay," she choked, "It'll be okay."

Sasuke knew that neither of them fully believed that.

Sleepless nights were nothing new to Kakashi.

It wasn't insomnia. At least, Kakashi wasn't exactly thrilled with that label. It was more of a choice. Recently, he found that he preferred being tired all day to facing the things that awaited him in his nightmares.

But tonight felt far heavier. He couldn't use Icha Icha to distract himself from the fact that the sun had risen before he had even closed his eyes, and he couldn't bring himself to lift his head from his hands for long enough to focus on anything other than the crushing weight of his guilt.

It's not your fault, Sakura's voice whispered in his head, it'll be okay.

Then he remembered your eyes, wide and terrified and directed at him.

It felt like someone had reached into his chest and crushed his heart in their hands.

It was happening again. He had done nothing but hurt the people he wanted to protect. He had failed Obito and Rin. He'd failed Sakura. And now he was failing you.

And you were within reach now. He could walk across the compound and see you in seconds if he wanted to. And he did want to. More than he thought he'd ever wanted anything.

But you were terrified of him. So terrified that the only thing he could picture when he closed his eyes was your expression when you'd looked at him for the first time in a year.

Some cruel, distant part of him wished that Orochimaru had still been with you when he found you. Just so he could've had the chance to tear the snake apart with his own hands.

It was that thought that encouraged him to leave the solitude of his room and seek a different type of loneliness in the common area. At least there, his thoughts wouldn't be echoing off of the walls of his bedroom.

He glanced down the hall to the room where you were still recovering, sedated and restrained until he could decide how to even begin helping you recover. It was dark save for a dim glow lighting the path for people like him who decided to take late night strolls through the compound. He was quick to walk away from the temptation of visiting you, fighting the strong urge to see for himself that you were safe.

But that would likely lead to more harm than good. Ino kept telling him that you were physically fine and to stop worrying so much, but that felt like an unreasonable thing to ask of him.

What finally broke him out of his spiraling thoughts was a small, almost inaudible gasp that came from the direction of the kitchen.

He would've heard it if Naruto, Sasuke, or Sakura had left their rooms earlier in the night, and Ino was staying in the room across from Sakura's.

His head turned far slower than it would have if he hadn't already put the pieces together.

There was only one other person who had stayed at the compound over night.

You were frozen against the far wall of the kitchen like Kakashi had backed you into it, but you looked anything but frightened. Instead of the shocked, terrified expression that he'd seen before, all he saw now was steely determination.

Then you were on top of him, one hand gripping his wrists above his head while the other reached for something in your back pocket. You put a knee on his stomach to keep him pinned, but he was able to throw you off with a twist of his hips.

This barely phased you, and you were ruthless as you jumped at him again. You kicked at his shins to try and knock him off balance, but he jumped over the attack and dodged the kitchen knife that you were hurtling at him when his feet were back on the ground.

"Does this," Kakashi panted when you landed a jab to his throat, halting his words and his breath for a few moments, "feel familiar at all?"

Your answering snarl felt like a resounding no, so Kakashi kept his defenses up while wondering whether this would end with him incapacitated. He could've called for help from his students—should've, in fact—but he found himself staying silent when the thought crossed his mind.

You didn't show him any mercy, and he realized with a slight feeling of discomfort that you'd been holding back against him when you sparred before. And now, even injured, you had the upper hand. You must've trained extensively in fighting through pain like this—it seemed like something Orochimaru would make you do.

He was beginning to understand why the Widows were so terrifying.

He was also starting to realize you might actually kill him.

Call for help, his mind shouted at him, stop this before she kills you!

But his lips stayed sealed shut.

As far as skill went, you and Kakashi were fairly evenly matched. What gave you the edge over him now was probably pure terror and rage.

Your kicks were something lethal—especially the one you delivered to his stomach, knocking him off balance and landing him on his back.

You didn't waste any time pinning him down again and raising the knife above your head with one hand. The other fell to his throat and squeezed, unrelenting.

"You won't hurt me anymore," you muttered. "I'm going to kill you."

He gasped, choking on air that refused to flow into his lungs. You tightened your hold when you heard the sound, baring your teeth and raising the knife higher.

And higher. And higher.

Then it stopped.

Kakashi felt as if years were passing as he waited for you to kill him. His vision was becoming spotty, and he wondered if he preferred dying before or after he was unconscious.

His students would be well taken care of. He and Guy had given extensive thought to what would happen if either of them could no longer take care of their charges. And, all things considered, Guy was likely a better influence than he was.

He thought of you and hoped that you'd forget him completely. He didn't want you to feel guilty for this.

Each thought crossed his mind, one after another, and still the knife was raised high above your head.

He was so focused on the sharp blade pointed at his neck that it felt like a shock of lightening when a tear landed on his cheek. He thought he'd imagined it until another landed on his lip, and a third on his nose.

Then he looked at you.

Your mouth was set in a hard line, but your face was streaked with fresh tears that continued to fall on him. The knife raised above him was shaking, and your eyes were focused on the hand that you had wrapped around his throat.

Your grip loosened considerably, and he took in a gasping, aching breath.

"Your hand," you whispered, voice cracked and words practically crumbling from your lips like a falling building.

Your eyes were still on his throat. Your fingers were tense on his neck, and his hand was wrapped tightly around your wrist. He hadn't even realized he'd moved it in his desperation for air, but now he understood that it was his hand that you were staring at.

"It's...warm."

For seven months, your mind had been an echo-chamber.

You had a vague idea of the life you'd lived before you'd been strapped into that machine, but most of it felt like whispers from ghosts.

Familiarity redefined itself after you began losing your memories. It became the sudden, paralyzing feeling of electricity shocking you into painful submission. It became Kakashi Hatake's face hovering above you with hard, unforgiving eyes.

It became cold hands touching you. Kakashi's hands, always just as cold as the room you were trapped in.

Those were the familiarities that were trapped in your head. They were the only things that didn't slip away from you. Memories came and went in flashes of pink and yellow and blue. They came to you in kind words coming from a voice you didn't recognize and gentle touches from someone who's face you couldn't see, then fell between your fingers like sand the second you tried to wrap your arms around the memories and hold on as tight as possible.

Pain, cold, and Kakashi. Those were constants.

You grew to hate them. That hatred kept you sane.

It kept you alive.

Eventually, it was what you were forced to hold onto to keep you from slipping into a far-off world that promised protection and safety. You knew that place too well—you recognized it as a sanctuary that you'd been invited to before. But you rejected it, and some distant part of your mind told you that that was what you were supposed to do.

You'd been trained to reject weakness. And you'd rejected that quiet sanctuary in your mind many times before.

You fought hard to hold onto sanity, and your hatred acted as an anchor each time Kakashi's face appeared above you right before electricity ran rampant in your veins. You hated him. You hated him.

But as your tears landed on his face and you stared at the warm hand wrapped around your wrist, you felt your resolve falter. And when you looked in his eyes and saw that same warmth, it crumbled.

Kill him!

The words were rattling through your mind, stuck in an endless loop and trapped within the walls where only your rage existed. Nothing could get in and nothing could get out.

"Look at me."

The command was quiet, but there was force behind it. You found your eyes shifting up to meet his involuntarily, grip loosening on the knife in your hand.

He kept his hand on your wrist and lifted the other to your bicep. You stiffened, but waited until he had wrapped his hand around your arm and pressed his thumb against a scar that you'd forgotten was there.

"I stitched this," he said, shifting his thumb so that he could feel the ridges of the scar, "I was hoping it wouldn't scar as badly as it did. I didn't like seeing you hurt."

"Shut up," you snapped. Your head was aching. His hands were so warm. His eyes were kind.

The familiarity that you'd relied on to survive was gone. Pain had been replaced by gentle hands. Cold fingers were replaced by warm ones.

The only thing that remained was Kakashi, but...the man in front of you wasn't the same one you'd grown to hate. There was something different. His eyes, his hands, his voice...it was all different.

"I'm sorry," he muttered, choking on the words and letting his eyes fall shut. "I'm so sorry I let you go."

Your body was paralyzed. It wouldn't let you move your arm down to sink the knife into his chest. It kept you from ripping his hands off of you. It just kept you...frozen. Vulnerable. Weak

You hated it.

Your head was still pounding like a drumbeat, over and over until you wanted to curl into yourself and let your mind drift away.

"I never will again."

Kakashi's hand shifted away from your arm. It moved up, brushing your shoulder and grazing your jaw until it finally rested on your cheek. With a gentler touch than you'd thought was possible, he brushed a tear off of your skin. Your eyes were wide as he cupped your face in one hand. When he opened his eyes, they were soft and kind and clouded with tears.

They were warm.

Then, like a bullet shattering a sheet of glass, the echo-chamber within your mind shattered with one devastating feeling of familiarity.

You remembered this touch. You remembered this warmth.

The knife slipped from your hand and clattered to the floor.

(previous chapter) | (next chapter) | (series masterlist)

Author's note | FINALLY got this chapter out. thank you guys for waiting longer than usual, i started a study abroad program so the past few months have been very busy. because of that, i can't promise that i will keep to a regular updating schedule but i promise that i am still very invested in this fic and am still planning a sequel series!

this one gave me a run for my money, and it went through about four rewrites before i landed on how i wanted to write some of the scenes. overall though, i'm very happy with how it came out. i hope y'all like the changing perspectives, i literally don't know how to write any other way lmao

let me know what you guys think and please leave me some love if you enjoyed!

title is from "Brutus" by The Buttress

#kakashi #kakashi x reader #kakashi x you #kakashi x y/n #kakashi imagine #kakashi hatake #kakashi hatake x reader #kakashi hatake x you #kakashi hatake x y/n #kakashi hatake imagine #naruto #trr #emwrites

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animeloverskylarmoon · 8 months ago

Text

Byakuya Kuchiki (Bleach)- Oneshot

“Did you see him, it’s Kuchiki-taicho!”

The squeals were the only indication you needed. Whenever new reapers came in this is typically how it went. They’d gush over the captains.

Especially him.

At this point you should expect it. Standing at attention, you watch as the captains walk pass. Truthfully you admire their strength. Your ultimate goal was to someday obtain such a position. It was far-fetched, but you couldn’t help it.

There’s a powerful aura that seems to emit from simply their presence. Your eyes follow every movement. When they connect with a pair of steel gray hues, your body froze. It’s just a glance, nothing more, but it holds much more than you expected. You break eye contact hurriedly, looking down at your feet, flustered.

“What the hell am I doing..”

Why the hell would you look directly at him?

It felt quite the same as declaring a love confession. You huff, agitated and you keep your eyes planted down for the rest of the time that they are there. Once it’s finally over, you feel as though you can finally breathe easy. The lieutenants begin ushering the reapers to their designated squads and you follow as people begin to divide up.

The rest of the week is preparation and training. You’re grateful that you’re a member of the thirteenth squad. Being as far away from Byakuya was ideal. He’s too much of a distraction. You know it’s wrong to harbor any feelings for him. He’s emotionally detached. His views are of duty and protection of the integrity of the Soul Society. Even though that’s the case, you can’t help it. You’d seen him in battle one time and you haven’t been able to get over how effortlessly extraordinary he is.

“This is aggravating.”

Jushiro chuckles and you straighten, flushing. You hadn’t realized that you’d been talking to yourself. You’ve been doing that a lot.

“Is there a reason you are aggravated (Y/N)-san?”

You scratch your head with a laugh.

“I-I was just rambling, it’s nothing really.”

You hope that’s enough for him to drop the topic. There’s a part of you that wonders why you couldn’t have fallen for someone like him. Even if he had rejected you, he probably would have done it so nicely you would end up apologizing. You laugh internally at your thoughts and Jushiro gives you a curious look.

“Ukitake-taicho, is Rukia-san back yet?”

“Ah, no she hasn’t returned. If I remember correctly she should be coming in a few weeks. The head captain has asked that she stay close to Ichigo for the time being to ensure his powers have fully returned.”

“That sounds so cool! Rukia-san always gets the cool missions.” You mumble.

“Given her relationship with Ichigo, I believe the head captain was just trying to avoid the inevitable. Abarai-san has a bad habit of getting into fights when he’s there. He wanted to avoid damage to the town.” You giggle.

“I suppose you are right.”

It’s funny to watch the way they bicker, you’ll admit that. Renji would never say it, but he respects Ichigo. You would too if you’d survived the things he’d been through.

“Do you think that-”

The fluttering of black and crimson wings startles you.

“Ukitake-taicho, there is hollow activity in the tenth squad.”

The alert makes you clench your teeth. It’s not a shock that hollow activity is increasing. With the recent shift in energy, the head captain has accounted for just about everything.

You both take off without so much as another word. There’s a part of you that expects chaos when you land. But Jushiro is wearing the same comical expression at the sight before you.

“We got them Taicho!!”

“Take that stupid hollows!!

“Leave some for me!” Kenpachi calls.

There was obviously no need for cavalry, because members of squad eleven are handling the distress call.

If anything you feel a bit sorry for the hollows. A few of them appear to be running for their lives. One is grabbed by the leg, and you sweatdrop when Kenpachi grins down at the very large beast.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

It’s sweating profusely. All he does is swing his hand. It’s flying into the air. You know he intends to go after it. At least you think he does. There’s nothing but a glowing light in the distance like a star of its descent into another world.

“Kenny you threw it too far, he’s gone.” Yachiru comments.

“Damn.” He looks unaffected and you just sigh.

“I don’t think our services are needed.” Jushiro sheaths his blade and you do the same.

“We should do a sweep of the squads around to ensure no others have breached.”

You nod.

Jushiro goes left and you go right.

With your eyes fixed ahead, you’re ready for anything. You’re jumping from building to building, but you don’t see a thing. You’re a bit relieved that there isn’t any damage. At least none that the hollows made. Kenpachi is definitely going to leave a mess wherever he goes.

By the time you make it to the sixth squad you realize that the area is clear. You intend to keep going straight up to the first, but the pink petal drifts into your line of vision and you turn your head. Your eyes widen when you spot him. He’s standing next to a tree and the entire atmosphere feels as though it has changed. Your arms drop slowly and your feet touch the ground quietly.

All he’s doing is standing there. You’re possibly fifty feet away at best, but you can’t stop staring.

He just looks so..

“Beautiful..”

Apparently you said that aloud. His head turns and once again you’re completely frozen. That harsh gaze is fixed on you. You should say something, inform him that you’re only doing a patrol. Words refuse to form and when he steps away from the blossom tree, your heart is going much faster than it has ever gone.

Even in battle.

His steps seem to echo, and you want to swallow, but you can’t. None of your usual body functions are working.

He’s right before you and he stops.

“Were you referring to me.”

He’s talking to you, he must be. But you can’t formulate a sentence, much less respond.

“I asked you a question.”

You flinch and bow fully. It’s an instinct.

“G-Gomen!!”

Why are you even apologizing, it’s not like you’ve done anything wrong. You just feel like you have.

“I-I was just doing a sweep for hollow activity. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

You’re almost afraid to lift your head.

“You said that I was beautiful.”

The statement made your eyes widen. You feel absolutely embarrassed.

“Gomen!!”

That’s all you can get yourself to say at this point.

“Are you so superior that you refuse to meet my gaze.”

Just the insinuation makes you panic.

You jolt upright.

“O-Of course not Kuchiki-taicho I-”

Your words come to a stop, because you expect his eyes to hold irritation, or at the very least anger for saying what you did. Yet, his expression looks almost…soft..

How could such a stoic person look so effortlessly attractive?

“I was right, you are beautiful..”

The slight change in his eyes alerts you that you’ve once again opened your big mouth and blurted out something that should never leave your lips. Your face heats up immediately as you begin to stutter.

This is mortifying.

“G-G-Gomen!!”

He says nothing. He just watches you as if trying to make an assessment. Without so much as another word, he turns.

“Let’s go.”

“G-Go? G-Go where?”

He just glances back at you, and a pleasant shiver rushes up your spine.

“Y-Yes Kuchiki-taicho!”

You prepare to follow and he takes off. You’re so consumed in your rushing thoughts that you don’t take notice of the small smile that briefly crosses his lips.

#admiration #bleach #byakuyaxreader #soul scoiety #reapers #gotei13 #byakuya kuchiki #jushiro ukitake #humor #cute #feelings #love #soul society #trust #soul reapers #beautiful #care

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