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vampire-bite · 6 days ago

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In an incredible turn of events, I have finally finished part two of this fic. Its been so long i lost the little "completed" stamp i used last time, but this is for "get it over with" from bad things happen bingo.

Dear God I Hope This Is Decent. If you prefer reading on AO3, its over here.

Sam was beginning to feel a bit like he was the parent of two particularly unruly children—unruly, hurting children, that he was consistently failing to help.

Mercifully, both newborns slept through most of the day. He supposed they were probably exhausted—with a helpful dose of daze from their body trying to heal, in Bright’s case—from the emotions of the day. But even with the free time he had due to their exhaustion, he couldn’t bring himself to do much.

It hadn't seemed like much of a break from their usual routine. At first, at least. Bright got themselves into trouble. Frederick cared about them beyond reason. And Sam was left cleaning up their mess. But now, even thinking of it like that made guilt settle in his stomach. Any attempt to brush it off as just troublemaking just brought back the images of them covered in blood, crying.

“Why don’t you just kill me already, since that’s clearly what you want?”

They flinched when he reached for them.

He couldn’t stop himself from picturing a version of himself, now long gone, who would've reacted the same way. Then, similarly, from imagining himself newly turned. Angry at the world that had taken his humanity from him.

The bitter, almost cruel part of him that reared its ugly head so often when it came to them had finally fallen silent. All he had now was the other half, the one that still hurt. That yearned to be himself again.

It felt like a mirror being held up, leaving him face to face with his own reflection, and he wasn’t sure he liked what he saw.

He needed a drink. One that would actually work. The hangover would be nothing compared to how sick he felt right now.

In the end, that was what brought him to the chair across from the couch Bright was still asleep on. If he didn't have something to focus on, he was certain he'd do something he'd regret. Concern—unusually, for them, rather than just about—was, shockingly, easier.

They looked so young now. Buried in his jacket and a few blankets he’d thrown over them when he noticed them shivering, a trail of drool running down their chin as small snores left them. A scar on their eyebrow—no doubt from their youthful recklessness. A problem child. But still a child, and one he was starting to realize he’d mistreated.

He reached for their cheek to wipe dried blood off of a cut, an unfamiliar gentleness in his touch, and their eyes opened just slightly. There was a brief moment of drowsy confusion before he could practically see their walls go back up.

“....Hi,” They said, their voice slow, tone questioning as they eyed him with something like suspicion, and never one to mince their words, they were as blunt as always, “You look like shit.”

“Thanks.” He rolled his eyes, but fought back a remark about how they didn’t look much better. It seemed insensitive, given everything that had happened. Like salt in their wounds, which despite his best efforts were still numerous.

They were still regarding him with suspicion—almost aggression—that they didn’t even bother to hide, but he found that it was oddly comforting, that there was something normal about all of this. That, and the look on their face left him unable to fight his mind away from how similar they seemed to the reckless wolf that had captured his attention.

Blankets fell to the ground as they sat up, retreating and curling up into themselves against the opposite side of the couch, like they were trying to get as far from him as possible, “You don’t need to watch me sleep. Creep.” Despite the harsh words, their voice wasn’t angry, just resigned.

“There’s clean clothes on the table,” He nodded his head towards the coffee table, but they didn’t say anything. Their eyes just barely flickered down, but though they looked surprised by the gesture, they didn’t move to go change.

He wanted to leave them alone, leave the discomfort the conversation would bring for another day and run from his troubles. But he knew that if he didn’t say things now, he’d talk himself out of it before he could.

“We need to talk,” He said. Their body tensed and they moved to get off the couch, but he moved closer, reaching out to put a hand on their shoulder and hold them still.

They recoiled slightly, but didn't push him away. “Can you just get it over with?” They asked, the hostility in their voice not quite managing to mask the soft pain beneath it, “So I can get out of here before the sun comes back up?”

The words made him stop. He thought over them for a moment, brows furrowing, and though he opened his mouth to respond no words came out. Nothing that he could say would explain the depth of his confusion, so he ended up just staring at them in bewilderment. They sighed. Heavy, angry, and melting into a few grumbled words.

“I know you’ve wanted me gone this whole time. Just get it over with. Like a bandaid.” Resigned, they stared down at their lap, seeming to almost shrink in on themselves as they spoke.

Really, he wasn't sure what he'd expected. Their statement took him aback, but he figured that it probably shouldn’t have. If anything had become clear due to their earlier breakdown, it was that they thought very little of him. But he couldn't say it was surprising, or that he blamed them.

Maybe the worst part of that realization was he couldn't remember the last time he hadn't blamed them for something.

It was obvious that they thought he was going to kick them out, and he could barely hold back a laugh at the thought. Admittedly, the idea that he didn’t want to be responsible for them had briefly crossed his mind a few times, though the memory now made him feel guilty.

Even still, he’d never seriously considered it. Besides the fact of how many people it would put at risk, besides the fact that Frederick would hate him, no matter how severely the two were at odds…. Even with his mind clouded with disdain, he couldn’t justify that to himself. They were just a kid. Sometimes he’d thought they were more trouble than they were worth, but that didn’t change the fact of it.

He wondered how he’d missed it. Wondered how, with all that pain he’d felt through his bond with Frederick, it never crossed his mind that some of it was from them as well. They were the same, freshly turned, young newborns, who’s hunger for normalcy and comfort rivaled their thirst for blood.

They were just a kid.

“I helped look for you while Frederick was driving himself insane with worry. Why in hell would I do all that just to send you away?” He blurted out the words before he could stop himself, but he knew immediately it had been the wrong thing to say.

Bright stiffened immediately, shoving his hand off of their shoulder, eyes lighting up in a glare as they got to their feet. “I don’t believe you,” They said, voice defiant, gaze angry, “He doesn’t care about me anymore. And you never did.”

The idea of Frederick not caring about them managed to get a laugh out of him. His concern was red hot and burning just like Sam’s own anger, the two too tied together to differentiate sometimes. It contrasted with the damp, subdued pain of both of their sadness, so they were easier to pick out. Easier to focus on. They scowled when he laughed, their fists tightly gripping the sides of his jacket, pulling it around themselves.

“Don’t do that,” They forced out through grit teeth, making his laughter die instantly, “Don’t mock me.”

“Do you have to assume the absolute worst of me?”

Long, cutting silence followed his words. Maybe it wasn’t fair. Maybe he hadn’t given them a good reason to assume anything else, after all, he had a tendency to do the exact same thing to them. Still, a heavy sigh left him as he watched them roll their eyes.

They were tense, but they didn't seem to be in pain. It was a small mercy, he supposed. At the very least, their usual scowl had returned. He didn't think he'd ever miss it, but he found it was much better than their tears.

“I was laughing because he cares about you more than he cares about himself most of the time,” He responded, the words coming out with a tinge of bitterness that he'd tried to keep out of them. Bitterness for the self destruction he’d witnessed from both of them. Bitterness for his own inability to help.

Bright's face fell for a moment, their composed anger cracking just slightly, but they were quick to put their mask back up.

“He has a hell of a way of showing it,” They grumbled, playing at uncaring but falling short, a sharp edge to their voice. Tension was thick in the air around them.

His gaze followed them as they paced around the living room, trying to force himself to care less than he did about how they saw Frederick. Protective instinct had flared inside of him and he was helpless to resist following it. “He cares about you beyond any goddamn reason, no matter how much I've told him he shouldn't!”

Their face dropped and he winced as he realized what he'd said.

He took his eyes off of them for only a moment, putting his face in his hands and groaning as he tried to think of a way to backtrack.

That was all it took. The moment his eyes were off of them, they bolted, making a run for the front door. “Bright!” He shouted after them, but they didn’t even spare a glance back in his direction. He cursed under his breath, chasing after them.. It was easy enough to catch up to them, the way they had to fumble with the locked door bought enough time that he was right behind them by the time they got outside.

He wrapped his arms around their waist as they stepped off the porch, and they screamed, thrashing in his hold in an attempt to get free. They fought against him and twisted in his arms, but he held on tight so they couldn’t run. He wasn’t convinced he’d ever see them again if they managed to take off.

“Let go of me!” They shrieked, hitting his chest with every ounce of strength they could manage. It only succeeded in making him wince, not loosen his grip.

All he could do was hold on stubbornly tight as their fist pounded back against his chest.

“I hate you!” They screamed and continued to hit at his chest, tears streaming down their face while they tried to shove him away even as he held them firmly, “I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!” He was sure they did. He couldn’t blame them.

“I know,” He tried to soothe them—tried to soothe his own guilt and the sinking feeling that he could never make things right. Of course, he knew that it went much deeper than just a feeling, “I know, I'm sorry.”

He felt the fight leave their body. It was a slow process.

First, the screaming quieted down, being replaced with small, gasping sobs, verging on hyperventilation. Then their entire form shook violently as the hits to his chest slowed and then gradually stopped. Finally, they went limp. The only movement remaining was them trembling in his arms.

Their hands were still against his chest, now gripping his shirt rather than hitting him. The cries that were still leaving them drowned out their words as they gasped, desperately trying to get words out.

“You're both the same…” They choked out finally, “Neither of you will just let me go.”

They didn't need to spell it out for him to know what they were talking about. He remembered the desperation in Frederick’s eyes when he'd turned them.

It was easy to get caught up with his own progeny and forget that they didn’t have a maker who could help them. For all their anger, they were just a kid. A scared, lost child who he’d never bothered to treat as such.

“I hate you…” They sobbed, each repetition sounding closer and closer to breaking completely as they got weaker. His arms were still around their waist, their feet off the ground though he’d moved back so that they weren’t hanging off the side of the porch.

Once they fell completely silent, they more resembled a puppet with its strings cut than a person. They collapsed against him finally, head falling back onto his shoulder. “If I put you down, are you gonna try to run again?” He muttered, turning to go back inside. All they did was stiffly shake their head, not bothering to try and pull away on their own.

They stayed limp in his arms as he carried them back inside which made it easy to set them back down on the couch. Luckily, they didn’t let themselves fall over, sitting up and returning to the corner of the couch they’d been in after waking up. Both of them just stared at each other for a long moment.

Consciously making an effort to go slow so he didn't startle them, he sat beside them on the couch. He took their hands into his, gently squeezing them, and their gaze lifted just slightly so they could meet his eyes.

“Listen to me,” He said, his tone softening to the point it was unfamiliar to his own ears, “I know that I ain’t….. Good at all of this,” They snorted as they laughed, shaking their head and muttering something that seemed to be calling his words an understatement, “But… I wanna help and try to be better. I ain’t gonna promise I’ll be perfect at it, but if someone, or something, is bothering you…”

He trailed off, but it seemed to be enough. They closed their eyes, took a deep breath, and nodded. “Okay,” Their voice was quiet, weak, “Okay. What do you want to know?”

About a thousand questions flashed in his mind, but he decided he’d been forceful enough, so he just shook his head. “Anything. What do you want to talk about?” They opened their mouth to speak but hesitated. Their head fell back against the back of the couch so they were staring up at the ceiling for a moment before squeezing their eyes shut. He wasn’t sure if he was making it up, but he could’ve sworn tears began to gather in them.

“I died too, you know?” They said finally, their voice cracking halfway through. Pain had fully overtaken the aggression they wore like armor.

He swallowed down guilt and it burnt in his throat. “I get it.”

“No,” The response came almost immediately, following a laugh lacking in humor, “You don't. I hear how—how people talk about you and Fred. And I-I hear how they talk about me, too. People think you're so…. So talented. So admirable and you're mysterious but not like you're suspicious. Like you're an isolated artist. And they feel bad for you for having to deal with me. Like you're a saint for letting me stick around.”

He wanted to tell them that wasn’t true, but he couldn’t.

“And I keep hearing how bad everyone feels for him,” Their voice raised in volume, and he could practically feel their anger like it was his own, “How tragic it is, what happened to him. Like—like it didn't happen to both of us. And if you're both so great, and you both hate me…. What does that make me?”

Their face crumpled and then they were crying again. He gently squeezed their hand, but they pulled him closer, hugging him tightly and burying his face into his neck.

Wrapping his arms around them still felt wrong in a way, but it came more naturally than it had that morning. Whereas the first time had been desperation, barely thought through, this was far more intentional. It took him a few moments before he reacted, but when he finally held them, the twisted, ugly feeling in his stomach began to subside.

“Kid…” He managed to get out, but one of Bright’s hands came around to clamp over his mouth to stop him from talking. They kept their face buried into the crook of his neck, and he decided that it was obvious they just needed to be held in that moment, so he stayed quiet.

He wasn’t sure exactly how long they stayed like that, but he found he didn’t care too much. They didn’t seem angry anymore, just hurt. Fingers curled around the back of his shirt, gripping it like they just needed something to hold onto. Shaking, uneasy breaths hit his skin.

Even once their tears had dried up, they stayed attached to him, though they moved their hand off of his face, so he took the chance to speak. “If anyone bothers you again,” He muttered, resting his head on top of theirs, “Tell me. I won’t let them hurt you.”

It was exactly reassuring them that he didn’t hate them, like he had before, but he felt like it meant more.

“I’m sorry,” They whispered against his neck, their body trembling against his.

“No,” He shook his head, pulling away to look them in the eyes, “I’m sorry.”

They just nodded, managing a small smile. He realized he wasn’t sure when the last time he’d seen them smile genuinely was.

Before either of them could say anything, there was the sound of a door opening down the hall and Bright’s head snapped up. He barely had enough time to react when they took off down the hall—thankfully, away from the door rather than towards it.

He heard Frederick gasp and call out Bright’s name, followed by a thud and a small yelp and then laughter. He couldn’t fight away a smile.

Even as he rounded the corner to find the two teenagers locked together in a hug, he knew that there would be more for all three of them to figure out with each other. The strain of Bright and Frederick’s relationship wouldn’t be so easily undone. It wasn’t perfect. But in that moment, it was enough.

#redacted audio #sam collins #bright eyes #frederick exists for like two sentences in this #redacted asmr #bad things happen bingo

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surplus-of-sarcasm · 2 years ago

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Lamy can you pretty please write about a yandere Villain or Supervillain or Superhero or Vigilante with a Hero darling?

Don't worry about when you get to this, it's just for fun! It's what I'm hooked on right now :)

My nemesis has presented me with a challenge, and like all great villains, I have tried to be up to the test. Anyyywayyy, tysmm for this ask, Huffle!💙💙 I chose yandere!Supervillain with a hero darling. I hope it is to your liking. Love uuuu!

Poisoned Honey

TW: Abusive relationship, yandere supervillain, blood, injury, drugging, touch-starvation

Notes: This is a lil long, 1.8 k words, so the story is under the cut!

Hero wishes they could move. Run. But, they can't even get up, can't even support their own weight. Their breathing is ragged as they let painful wheezes escape their dry throat, their few fractured ribs straining with the effort. Blood seeps from a gash in their side, hot and frustratingly slow, staining the floor a deep crimson.

They shut their eyes and wince, as a few tears stream down their cheeks. But it isn't from the pain. They've powered through much worse. They're tears of desperation because they know for a fact what they have to do to survive, a cold, hard truth written into a stone that would not weather. There were no hospitals near the old, barren gas station in an abandoned, almost dilapidated part of the city in which they'd taken refuge after Villain had dealt out the worst of their damage.

They scanned the room with their weary eyes, desperate for anything they could use as a makeshift bandage, finding no more than broken glass and old dust everywhere. Their communicator had been smashed under Villain's boot, so they can't even reach out to the hero agency. Some dark part of them contemplated letting their slowly dimming light completely fade away than to resort to their last option.

Supervillain. Ironically, they have healing powers along with others that possess the ability to destroy anything if they wished. A cruelly beautiful paradox. That sounds so much like something Supervillain would say in their silky-smooth, honey-sweet venom of a voice. The necklace around the crime-fighter's neck, one of the few things their nemesis hadn't sought out to destroy, could be used to call the supervillain if they rubbed the charm on it till it changed colour.

They would've destroyed the necklace, that shackle around their neck, but Supervillain would find out. They always found out.

Still hesitant, Hero's hand went up to the pendant, clutching it, but not quite rubbing yet.

When it first started out, whatever they had with Supervillain, it had felt like sweet-smelling flowers just starting to blossom at the start of a spring dream. That had slipped into a nightmare far too painfully fast.

Hero had always been quiet and reserved. They weren't cold or standoffish, but the other heroes just assumed they didn't want anyone to try and talk to them about anything that wasn't work. So, when Supervillain had fought with them for the first time, flashing them a radiant grin, complimenting everything about the hero, from their eyes, to their intelligence and carefully drawn out plans to their soft, flustered laugh. Hero had stayed awake all night, tossing and turning with a euphoria they couldn't comprehend.

Their fights turned into excuses to see each other, Supervillain's advances getting more and more bold, bringing Hero flowers and spoiling them with extravagant gifts and kisses pressed gently to their cheekbones. And after enough pestering, the crime-stopper had finally agreed to move in with them.

Unknowingly chaining themselves up in their own shackles. . .

The dream had quickly dissolved to reveal a nightmare where they were always guessing when Supervillain would be kissing their tired shoulders and lulling them to sleep with fingers softly stroking through their hair and when they would be furious, eyes alight with raging flames, easily overpowering them with the hero's small stature and injecting a drug into their bloodstream that left them completely out of it, a blank slate. Switching between one extreme and the other constantly, enough to drive Hero insane. There were rules. Hero’s twenty-one for crying out loud. They could not go out without the supervillain unless it was for work. They had to return home maximum by midnight.

Hero could handle overprotective. It could even be endearing at times. But this gilded cage built with the bars of Supervillain’s obsession was slowly choking them, smashing all of their hopes like a glass bottle thrown on the sidewalk, shattering to a million pieces. And just like shards of glass, putting them back together was nearly impossible, only serving to make whoever tried bleed.

But still, Hero couldn’t go back to the miserable excuse they’d had for a life before Supervillain. To celebrating birthdays and holidays alone. To eating dinner at an empty table. To stitching up the worst of their wounds without help. They just couldn’t. And Supervillain had made damn sure that there was no one else they could turn to.

“It would be pretty. . .unfortunate if something happened to that lucky person, darling, don’t you think so?” they’d crooned in that silky voice of theirs, their nails digging sharply into the skin of Hero’s arm.

Going back to them was like striking a deal with the devil because he promised you heaven.

But the devil can’t give you heaven. . .

Exactly. And yet you will still go through with the deal.

Before Hero can lament their indecisiveness any further, fate intervenes to make their decision for them.

The master criminal lands next to them with a swish of their dark cape, their face marred with worry. They waste no time in scooping them against their chest in a bridal carry, pressing their hands to the bloodied gashes scattered all over the crime-stopper’s body. They feel the familiar warmth of their wounds closing under the supervillain’s touch. Once they were done, the numb sensation disappears, and the pain washes over them again, making them lurch forward in the master criminal’s grasp.

*******************************************************

“What the hell were you thinking?” Supervillain screams, but it falls on deaf ears. Hero had grown frighteningly accustomed to the master criminal’s lectures, consisting purely of them being berated like some troublemaking child and then the details of the exact ‘punishment’ they would receive, how all of this was for their safety, how they shouldn’t dare to defy the supervillain ever again, yadda yadda yadda. It felt like terrible background music, like that song they always skipped whenever it came on the radio in their car. So, they stay silent through it all, gaze downcast, because they don’t have the energy, neither mental nor physical to meet the full intensity of the villain’s livid gaze. They just nod, shake their head, give the one-word answers the criminal wanted to hear.

And of course, the dreaded consequence. “This time, the dosage is twice as strong. To make sure you’ve learned. You know this is for your own good, doll?”

They nod sharply, like they actually believe it, focusing on bracing themselves for the sharp pinch of the needle breaking their skin, emptying its sinister contents into their bloodstream. It leaves them drugged out of their mind, feeling like their head had been emptied and refilled with cotton. Supervillain knew that even if they stuck around, even if they try to hide it, Hero holds whatever semblance of their freedom in high regard. Just the idea that they had virtually no control over themselves for a few hours was enough to terrify them into obedience.

When they snap out of it, there are no new injuries on them, absolutely nothing would change. Like every single time. The issue was, that the master criminal had blatantly refused to tell them whatever was being done to them when they were in that state. They stopped asking, but it never failed to keep them up at night.

*******************************************************

The next day, Supervillain had taken them to a luxurious hotel, a gesture that would have previously left them tongue-tied, squealing an ‘it’s too much!’ as they tried to hide how flattered they were. Now, they just feel numb. Empty. The way they do all the time.

At least staying in the hotel room is a change of scenery, so they don’t feel so much like they’re in a prison as they would have sleeping in their room back at Supervillain’s. “A new, temporary, gilded cage.” They snort to themselves, staring straight up at the dim lights hanging from the ceiling, as they lay flat on the bed.

Hero wakes up at an absurdly early hour, all the sleep magically disappearing from their eyes. So, they decide to shower, trying their hardest to focus on the water’s comforting heat, on the flowery smell of the hair conditioner, on anything that wasn’t the never-ending waterfall of terrible thoughts in their mind or the vice-like grip of a tightness in their chest left by guilt.

Taking a look at themselves in the bathroom mirror, Hero quickly notices the dark circles under their eyes and how much of a resemblance they bear to a stick figure in the bathrobe hanging loosely off their frame. They hadn’t been eating much lately. Lost their appetite among other things

When they finish, they find Supervillain awake and waiting for them, patiently sitting cross-legged on one of the seats in the room, smiling sweetly at them. They sit them down onto the chair next to them, and they stand up behind Hero. They place their hands delicately on the crime-fighter’s narrow shoulders, their knuckles warm as they gently applied pressure a little underneath their shoulder blades.

Oh how they hate that the master criminal is ironically incredibly good at comforting them. How they involuntarily lean into the touch, how the tension blissfully dissipates from their form.

“Just relax, dove. Focus on the touch, that’s it,” they whisper softly, and all the crime-stopper does is obey. What other option was there?

Their eyes flit over to a flock of birds flying through the sky as the earliest rays of the sun start to show themselves, the midnight blue of the sky fading to show stripes of brilliant oranges and pinks on a pale blue canvas. They envy those birds so much, to the point that it feels as though their appearance was simply to mock the hero.

*******************************************************

At dinner time, they try to distract themself with the food on their plate. Chicken curry had always been their favourite. It tastes impeccable here, shame they can’t actually enjoy it.

“I know what happened yesterday was pretty overkill, but it’s because I love you. I worry about you so much, sweetness. I figured I’d bring you over here to ease things up. Feeling better?” the supervillain questioned, so awfully concerned for them. How lovely.

And just like every time, whether it was at a restaurant, the movies, wherever, Hero gives them a small smile. “Much better, thank you,” they reply in a silky voice, with an ease born of practice

The first time, they’d actually fallen for the whole apology shtick. Right now, it’s just another part of the convoluted routine of their life.

They were both such wonderful actors in a sick, twisted, little fantasy. They knew full-well it was anything but real, an illusion born of cruel lies and gift-wrapped in skillful manipulation. Entrancingly beautiful like a bouquet of belladonna but just as damningly fatal. Sweet like honey and deadly like poison.

✨️Le Taglist: @larinzz @syberianjade @lateuplight @altu-interactions @enbious-prince @astr0-mj @thelazywitchphotographer @addictedsandwhichaki @justalittlecorrupted @quaggasus @theangstyclown @vernilliom @mothmancommitsarson @starssabove @kurai-hono-blog @talkingsperm @catsarecool00 @muffinrebel44 @sunnynwanda @annablogsposts @cardboardarsonist @itsmyworld23 @onlywhump

Wanna be on the taglist? This'll take you there!

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secretsuitcasefanskeleton · 2 years ago

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Stand User: Nico Merlai

Stand Name: Barracuda

Abilities: Earth-shattering screeching (50ft), blade fins, healing abilities, specializes Muay Thai.

Tarot Card: Queen of Cups; emotional, caring, and devine femininity

Nico is a 19 year old girl who attended a university in Australia as a freshman, but had to drop out to travel to Singapore as requested from her father, in another country for work, to look for her younger half sister, Anne, and return her to her mother. When arriving to the Singapore lands, she noticed five big men around her sister causing her to panic, vigilantly sneaking behind them and calling out her stand, but before they could react, she began to ask Anne who the men were. After the five notice her stand, they're immediately put on the defensive themselves, but not too much seeing as how she didn't know who they were herself, bringing the older Joestar to reply in efforts to calm her down and explain to Nico, who then circled behind Anne getting a better look at the five six foot men. She noticed they all had summoned strange ghosts of their own as well. Or what the older man had called them, 'stands', but what they would have assumed to be a friendly gesture, actually caused Nico to panic and guard in front of Anne protectively with her awaiting stand. It's wasn't until the older Joestar retreated his stand and mentioned desperately that they were on a mission for his daughter and that they had no bad intentions for Anne. They were actually glad that Nico had shown up so they could get rid of the girl. It wasn't until Avdol had pulled Joseph aside to suggest an idea; bring Nico along. Her stand was extraordinarily visible, meaning it must've had immense power. She could help. Though Joseph knew it was going to be no easy task to convince the girl to join, he agreed. Getting back to the group with the fortune teller not far behind, Joseph cuts to the chase explaining in further detail about his daughter's condition, why they were there, and what they were planning to do. After he finished, Nico apologized about the condition of his daughter, but proceeded to ask what it had to with her and what he hoped to gain by telling her this, which led to Joseph asking if she could join them on the trip to Egypt, to defeat a man called DIO. She apologized once more, for there was truly nothing she could do. She wasn't going to risk her life to go and fight a battle with a couple of men she had just met. For all she knew, they could've just been saying that to lure her alone and do God knows what, besides It all sounded too far-fetched. Her top priority was Anne anyway, no one else. It wasn't until Polnareff had mentioned, as-a-matter-of-factly, that if it weren't for Jotaro, the big mass of quiet and foreboding presence, Anne would have been "shark bait" and "no longer with us". Taken aback by the news, Nico then turned frantically to her younger sister to confirm what she'd hope to be a fable, but to her disappointment Anne agreed, nodding casually in approval that that's exactly what would've happened if it weren't for the edgy teen. Nico stood in contemplation, turning around from the group to ponder. If it weren't for Anne's need of constant attention, they wouldn't be in this predicament in the first place, but yet here they were. She can't undo the past, so there's no point in dwelling on it now. She could always say no, but she would regret that decision later on in the future too. These men that she just met, would they really put their lives on the line for her sister, a random twelve year old girl who they just met? It seemed so. That settles it then. Nico turned back around to face the hopeful men, a grateful and kind smile on her face as she reached her arm out for a hand shake to the one who did all of the talking. "A life for a life, it's only fair. You have my word, I'll help you defeat this DIO!" There wasn't much said after that, but the determined smiles on everyone's faces spoke loud enough. This all seemed too far-fetched, but then again, she did exist in a world of 'stands'.

#jjba stardust crusaders #jjba oc #jjba sdc #jotaro kujo #kakyoin noriaki #jean pierre polnareff #mohammed avdol #joseph joestar #dio brando #jojo's bizarre adventure #stardust crusaders oc #jotaro kujo x reader #noriaki kakyoin x reader #my oc character

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eisayshi · 8 months ago

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Mari sat and waited and waited. Her dress dug in almost as much as the ropes did. She had outgrown it years ago but it was the nicest thing she owned. And they couldn't very well send her to her death in any old thing.

The town had somehow gotten the idea that their sacrifices should be presentable. Mari wasn't sure that whatever was demanding the lives of young girls had the intelligence to appreciate how much effort was put into their funeral attire.

The village guards that brought her forward bantered back and forth with each other, markedly avoiding eye contact and conversation with her. Not that she was particularly in the mood to talk. She couldn't feel much besides her dress and the rope. When she was a child and the older girls started being taken, she didn't feel much then either. It was a distant thing, something that happened to the most beautiful girls first before they started scraping the bottom of the barrel. She supposed it was a compliment that she was one of the first girls in her generation to go. The girls who aged out, who survived, their lots weren't much better. They were almost immediately set to the task of making more girls, with boys who had had to walk the girls they truly wanted into the forest.

Mari had no one who would have to settle for someone else after she was gone. No little sisters to tell herself she was doing this for. Just a mother and father who looked sullen one day and told her to go put on something nice and do something with her hair. Now she was here. Waiting. She mused that maybe the beast didn't have an appetite today. And if it weren't for the ropes, she would've walked back to the village to at least change, maybe get a snack. She'd come right back. No doubt hungry girls didn't taste as good.

It came almost all at once. The rumbling stones on the ground, the shaking of trees that released no birds. Many woodland creatures had cleared out long ago or were far too good at hiding, hence the girls. The rumbling got closer and closer. Then there was the screeching. She expected it'd be a lot more blood-curdling, but no. It was just animal. Terrifying enough to warn prey. Maybe this creature resorted to sacrifices because it was absolute shit at normal hunting. Maybe if it had had a parent to teach it how to be quiet, how to stalk. Or maybe it did know all that and more. Like a scared, desperate town would feed it its choicest cuts if it screamed loud enough.

Mari found herself backing up against the tree. There it was. A feeling. Something aside from the bleak numbness she'd felt for days, maybe for all of her life.

The beast came crashing out of the trees in a show of menace. It reached the clearing and paused right in front of her. She looked at it, it looked at her. God, it was ugly, she thought. Scaly and slimy-looking, serpent-like. It did not head straight for her. It wound side to side, stalking, appraising.

"I'm not getting any younger," she said. "Better get to it before I'm no longer to your taste."

It blinked. In a moment it was lunging at her. It all happened so slowly. She'd had time to blink at least twice before impact was made. And then there was blood. So much blood. More blood than she had ever seen in her life. The creature shrieked and stumbled away from her as the wound between its eyes spurted like a fountain. It waved its giant head from side to side, trying to shake off whatever had wounded it. Amidst the screeching, there was another sound. Mari looked up to the branches of the tree she was tied to in time to see a figure leap off and onto the beast's head, driving the sword deeper.

"Squirm more!" She thought she heard. She watched the thing writhe and thrash about the clearing, the back half of its body coming into view. It's back legs seemed to be so small.

The beast squealed as it's assailant screamed, or was that screaming? It might've been laughing. No, they were definitely laughing. Jovially guffawing as they held onto their sword and pushed it into the creature's head as it wailed. They were still laughing when the thing finally stilled. It took a while, but in time the assailant grunted as they yanked their sword out unceremoniously and slid down the creature's snout, slipping slightly in the pool of blood. They seemed to find their little stumble comical and chuckled to themselves. When they finally noticed Mari, they flashed a smile.

"You're safe now." They said, approaching confidently, covered in blood with a sword drawn. Then Mari was afraid. She began to scream. The stranger rolled their eyes, as though this was a common occurrence. Mari pulled against the ropes, against her dress, against the tree and the forest and screamed and screamed.

"Calm down. It's dead, see?" The stranger kicked the creature's head to demonstrate their point. "No need to fear now. I will loosen your ropes. Please," They raised their hands, "Do not hit me."

Mari panted but stopped her screaming and thrashing. The stranger approached slowly, arms still raised. When they got near she flinched, as they used that same bloodied sword to slice her ropes. The ropes fell around her and she tried immediately to back away but her legs wouldn't support her.

"Easy now," They said. "This must have been a terrifying ordeal for you. But, the beast is dead now. You are saved. Your town is saved. There will be no more sacrifices." They said proudly. She stared at them.

"I-"

"Oh please, if you must thank me," they walked back to the dead beast, "Be good and show me back to your village." They raised their sword and brought it down on the beast's neck.

The saddle was more uncomfortable than the ropes. Mari had never been on a horse before. After watching the man separate the beast's head from its body, chattering idly while he did, he offered his hand to her, giving a showy bow. When she glanced from it to his face, still cowering by a tree, he took her hand, gently, to his credit, and helped her to her feet.

"Your village?" He asked. He might have said other words, but she wasn't listening. She couldn't listen. He was still smiling.

He'd put her on the horse and hauled the beast's head unto the cart attached to it. How none of the guards had noticed they were there was beyond her. He still talked idly as he walked the horse out of the forest and into the town. She caught bits here and there, she thought maybe she might have answered him at times. The first thing she heard beyond his voice was the clattering of something to the ground, then a scream. Then there were people gathering around, eyes wide, murmuring in disbelief.

The man called out, "Fear not, humble villagers! The beast is slain! There shall be no more sacrifices!" He stepped aside to reveal the head of the beast. The villagers gasped and the murmuring began anew. The man reached a hand to Mari and helped her off the horse. On shaky legs, she walked with him. "Your maiden is safe, as shall all your maidens be. Go, girl. To your home, tell your family the good news."

Mari looked at him then at the people of her village. And she walked home, just like that. Her mother answered the door wearily at first. Something about needing no more flowers or food stuffs or condolences, then her eyes were wide and she was screaming. She flung her arms around her daughter and flung praises to the sky.

"My Mari, my baby," she cried. "How? How?"

"Man in the woods. Killed the thing. Stabbed it in the head." She murmured. "Only took one sword."

Her father came crying next, demanding to see this hero, to thank him. Mari could not for the life of her remember his name. Had he given it? Had any of this truly happened? Was she alive?

It didn't take long for her to realize that she was indeed alive. She knew this because she had kept doing the things she had done before she was supposed to die. Chores, social calls, prayers, and the like. She ate meals with her parents in silence. She didn't know what to say to them. She answered their questions when they asked and pretended not to notice their side-long glances at each other. She thought she might have done that a lot before, pretending. When she went outside, she listened for the whispers. The other villagers always had a new conspiracy about what might have taken place in the forest that day. Her favourite to hear about was that it wasn't herself that had rode back into town. It was some other creature in her form. Maybe she and the monster had switched souls, allowing the stranger to kill it with more ease. And now the monster walked among them, forced to live in a weaker body, to salivate over the prey it could have had. Mari had always had a habit of staring too long at other girls, but she didn't think she particularly wanted to devour them, not in the way the villagers thought anyways. She pretended not to hear them too. Part of her hoped it was true. A child once ran up to her and asked if she was still alive.

"I- I don't- maybe?" She'd tried to answer.

"My mama says you died in your heart because you were supposed to die in your body but you didn't." The child swung his legs absently as he sat on the steps to the well. Mari wondered if she had ever been that small.

"What if I did?" She asked him.

"I don't know. What if?" He looked up at her with large brown eyes. Before she could think of an answer, a woman was calling and he was scurrying away. She watched him go. Maybe her eyes tracked him too long, but his mother saw her, seemed to freeze momentarily, then bundled her child away quickly with her empty buckets. Mari wondered if anyone had ever bundled her away like that, trying to protect her small body from harm. She was no longer that small. No one would bundle her away again.

At a town meeting she attended, people shouted over each other. The only time they weren't looking at her or whispering was when they were shouting over each other. Something about taxes or payments. She'd never had to go to these before. On account of that she might as well have been dead from birth, being a completely healthy and even-complexioned girl. But now that that was no longer the case, she was expected to act just like everybody else, which meant sitting in this stuffy room as everyone yelled at their headman. A middle aged man, with little patience and even less spine stood in front of the crowd.

"Alright, alright," he tried to settle the crowd. "The adventurer set us back a few but we'll survive. We'll have more hands now that we're not losing them every week." He laughed.

Then she began paying attention. She raised her hand and once noticed, the room hushed. The headman's eyes slid over her purposefully, looking for anyone else to hear out. No one spoke above a murmur, chastising her for attempting to speak but also curious as to what she would say.

"Yes, Miss Mari," the headman finally relented.

She put her hand down, momentarily wondering if she should stand, and decided not to. "Um. What if it comes back?"

"I'm sorry? What if what comes back?" He asked. Mari took a sharp breath and the room seemed to flinch.

"The monster," she said evenly. "What if the monster comes back? Or a new one? Demands sacrifices?"

"Ahem, well. We managed so far, haven't we? Anyone else-"

"But you just said we need hands. What if no other adventurers or slayers come by?"

"Well, we can't very well afford another one of those, can we?" He laughed nervously.

Then she stood, sharply, scraping her chair legs against the hard floor. "Then can we do it ourselves?"

"What? Kill that thing? Miss Mari, it was quite fearsome. I'm not sure-"

"I saw it. It was lazy. It had no instincts. Maybe because we fed it so much. But a new one, if we didn't feed it, would probably be smaller. Sharper and faster, yes, but if we all-"

"We can not put so many people in danger. None of us is a skilled fighter."

"We could be!" Her breath quickened. "We could. We could. If we tried. If we trapped it. We could lose a few of us at once instead of many over time. We could-"

"Miss Mari, that is barbaric! Speak not of such things."

"But-"

"It has been weeks, Miss! We've made allowances for you but you cannot continue to behave this way. Sit down at once."

Mari did not sit down. She stood, staring, the sound of blood rushing in her ears. She looked down to see blood touching her feet, a pool of it slowly soaking up through her shoes. She left the meeting hall in a whirlwind and ran. Past the well, past the shops, past the gates, and past the trees, she ran. She would apologize for the mess of her shoes later but for now, she had to run. She did not pay attention to where she ran until she finally stopped, crumbling to her knees and taking ragged breaths.

"Barbaric," she panted. "Barbaric?"

She looked up ready to shoot a scathing retort and froze. In front of her, the slowly decaying body of the beast lay headless, motionless. Huge chunks of its flesh gone missing. She was suddenly aware of the noise of the forest. Birds in the trees, creatures skittering around. Outt of the corner of her eye, she watched a fox saunter over to the carcass and take a piece of it. She didn't move, it didn't seem to notice her.

She screamed. Bloody and raw she screamed. Angry and hungry she screamed. The fox flattened its ears, seemed to think about growling, then ran into the bushes.

"One. Fucking. Sword! It took one sword! One man with one sword! Hundreds of girls and it only took one sword!" Hot tears flowed down her face as her voice ripped out of her. She fell to her hands and knees and tore at the ground and screamed into the darkened earth. Hoping the beast would hear her from beyond the grave. "You took so many of us! They gave you so many of us! And all we needed was one bloody sword to end you!" She fell face first into the shallow pit she had dug and continued screaming. She laid there till it was dark again, her screaming devolving into hoarse sobs.

"One sword. Just one sword. He was laughing.”

Nobody came to look for her. She eventually dragged her body back to her home. She slid in like a ghost and ignored her parents' concerned questions. They did not touch her. They did not come near her. She went to her bedroom and looked around it. She looked down at her shoes. Besides the dirt, they were completely clean. Not a drop of blood on them.

She sniffed and rubbed her nose with her arm. "Fine, then."

She was gone the next morning. Like the ghost she had become. No one said anything, not out loud anyways. Even though the wildlife had returned to that forest, no one dared to step in, for fear of what they might find or what might find them. It was often whispered that the only thing missing from the home that day was an ax.

Hey anybody going to talk about rescued sacrificial maidens. Like yes a guy with a fuck off sword turned up and so you're not getting fed to the dragon/water creature/mountain spirit/vague embodiment of all things scary and you get to go back home, but is that really home? Your mom hugs you and your dad says he's so happy you're alive and you know that when they said they'll do anything to keep you safe they didn't really mean it. They have a feast prepared and you get to taste what they cooked for your funeral, help wash the dishes after. And it's selfish to think that between the whole village with everyone in it and you they wouldn't pick the lesser evil but it still leaves an emptiness in your chest, knowing exactly how much your life is worth. And the neighbors smile at you awkwardly and the neighbors' kids yell "hey! I thought you died!" because they don't know not to do that yet and maybe you did. Maybe you did.

And the hero with the fuck-off sword rode off into the sunset the way they always do but you're still here and you herd the cows by the cliff where you were tied up in your cleanest clothes waiting to not be alive anymore and sometimes you think that would be easier and when you don't come back one day, you can imagine it's a relief for everyone involved. Maybe you'll be the new thing to haunt the mountain, or maybe you'll follow down the road and listen for cries that sound like yours did. Either way, there's little left to fear. You know exactly how much your life is worth.

#please enjoy my attempt #i did my best #i will not be stopping tho #i have more planned #my writing #fantasy #fiction #stories

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ask-carrier-kaiju · 8 months ago

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Mauve

May 12, 2024, 03:12 AM

Emergency situation. All Coastal defense walls breached. Emergency evacuation procedures for all civilians within 1000 kilometers of Bunker 4 and Deca City. Take shelter immediately. Hostile extraterrestrial landfall in less than 40 seconds. This is not a drill. Repeat. Emergency situation –

The waves lap at Saffron's sides as she proceeds forward, through darkening clouds of smoke and debris. It's difficult to see.

The seas are unusually clear. Many ships have sunken or have retreated.

Things had been going so well… five Kaiju, and a fleet of 100 other vessels besides. The other four Kaiju had retreated now.

When it had just been Guppies and Skyfish, things were fine. Hard to hit, but too small to pose any meaningful threat, save for if they boarded human ships.

Blue Sharks and Megalodon were also manageable. They were fast, had cannons, but they were on par with the corvettes and smaller ships in terms of size. The unaccompanied human vessels could fight them on even footing, and the five Kaiju that had been deployed out here easily smashed things like that.

The worst of it had been those…Kraken, things. They were bigger than most of the human ships, so protection was high priority. Saffron had taken a few more licks than she would've liked. She was tired now.

But this…?

This…thing was huge. It was fast. It displaced so much water it sent the smaller Fish airborne, and worse yet, it kept producing more of them. It was a four-kilometer long sea serpent that had just kept pummeling and thrashing and spewing reinforcements until everybody was completely exhausted. Every ounce of strength to wade through the water was sapped out of her. Out of everyone, really. Even the water itself felt more like sludge at this point. And it was so dark.

They'd breached all the seafloor walls. It…was over, at this point. They couldn't stop this thing before it made landfall. The whole city was going to be at its mercy soon.

Cetus emerged from the water in front of her. She winced, preparing for the worst as it bared its fangs again.

Instead, a pause. Saffron looked up at Cetus just in time to witness a dark silhouette of a Kaiju blast through the smoke and deliver a kick with her trenchbuster boots directly into the thing's upper neck. That kind of explosive movement in this deep of water should have been impossible, let alone jumping with so much heavy equipment. Saffron had to put every muscle into lifting her boots up off the sea floor. Meanwhile, this Kaiju…whoever they were, they were insanely fast. They were a Manticore, it looked like. Their tail stung at Cetus' flesh, swinging again and again like a bat, the serpent thrashing miserably as the colossus' weight pinned Cetus to the sea floor.

Everything below Cetus' scales was shattered. It thrashed, unable to make its body move. Knowing better than to remain and get a second kick, it slithered out from beneath, burrowing slightly into the ground just enough to wriggle free, and swam away, its body convulsing irregularly with malfunctions as it struggled. Blood trailed in the water behind it.

Saffron passed out. She wouldn't remember this.

Unit F4C-2, Mauve, stood and watched Cetus swim away in the wake of her kick. It took tremendous effort, but the stress hormones rushing through her veins gave her enough energy to stand bipedally. It was less drag on her legs, and she pushed through the water with an almost supernatural speed, quickly reaching Saffron's side and pulling her body out of the water, floating her upside down so her head and nose were up towards the air. With a thrust of her hind legs, Mauve shattered the steel of Saffron's boots in a single motion, like snapping a cracker in half. Her legs no longer weighed down, Saffron would float just fine on her own, now.

The colossal manticore Kaiju turned to a nearby boat, the lone non-Kaiju-accompanied vessel still this far from shore. Mauve spoke in a deep rumbling purr, her voice low, flat, authoritative, mature, powerful.

"63 thousand Guppies. 48 thousand Skyfish. 211 Egg Towers. 80 Blue Sharks, 30 Megalodon. 8 Kraken. And Cetus. No appearances of Decapods. And Capricorn is a no-show. Cetus is the only escapee. I estimate eight more weeks before another attack, in a different region. Tow Saff back to the bunker. I'm going on patrol."

She didn't wait for a response, nor could she have heard it, either. She wasn't hauling any ships - even the earpiece-partial had been ripped free from her ear, leaving a punched hole, like the chipped ear of a lab rat.

Mauve marched forward out of the smoke and into the night air, only extremely distant flickers of city lights in the distance remained. In the dark, her pupils widened to let in fragments of starlight from the edges of the horizon.

Everything hurt. Good, she thought. Everybody else gets off easy. That's just the way it should be.

~~~

Let's zoom out a bit again.

While halting and dissuading the assault of the Fish is the primary purpose of the Darkworld Navy, it is not, strictly speaking, necessary for informational outreach concerning Darkworld's state of affairs to be covered in great detail for citizens of Earth.

After all, one Kaiju alone, Mauve, covers 94% of all present efforts in repulsing the alien invasion. Victory is surefire. Far more important is establishing understanding and coexistence between humans and Kaiju, as continued alliance and cooperation is essential for the future, and is sure to continue on Darkworld, Earth, and beyond once the current threat is handled.

In that sense, Saffron's job of media outreach is perhaps just as important as Mauve's.

We're giving Saffron some extra permissions - uplink with her fellow Kaiju, and access to media outreach features during all hours - not just during her shift. ~~~

((This is, essentially, as dark as it gets. While I've built out a bunch of lore for this setting, my goal is moreso to focus on the lighter, interpersonal aspects between people and Kaiju. At least for this blog! This was a very fun and different piece of art to work on, though, big thanks to the anon who sent that ask in the previous post!))

#angst #macro #carrier kaiju #fleet kaiju #quad #quadruped #shipgirl #giant #alien #story posts #violence #blood

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husbandhannie · 3 years ago

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bloom

pairing: duke! minghao (seventeen) x f!reader

word count: 1100

genre: fluff, historical au, scene-by-scene

warnings: none, really. there's a kiss.

a/n: set in this historical au, this is the story of the reader and duke!minghao's first kiss (also mentioned in this nsfw drabble, minors dni). hi @97-liners, suffer the duke hao brainrot with me.

taglist: @itsveronicaxxx @zurikyo @husbandhoshi @kimhyejin3108 @starlightjoong

SCENE 1: at a party hosted by a local farmer, in celebration of the increased yields this year. the increase is largely due to your efforts to modernize the estate - it had taken some time to convince the farmers to adopt new, more scientific methods but you had done it, and now they wanted to hold this celebration in your (and the duke's) honor.

there are a lot of flowers here - you've seen atleast twenty different varieties so far. at a high-society party, this would be considered downright gaudy, but the view warms your heart. you know that the farmer, mr. henley, had them brought in from other villages - most of these flowers don't grow here.

"i know this isn't what you're used to, your grace", mrs. henley begins hesitantly, "but we tried to make do with what we have".

"it's lovely", you reach out a hand to hold the older woman's, needing to assure her, "this might be the most beautiful party i've ever been to", you lean in closer, "and that includes my wedding".

the woman laughs, shaking her head at your antics.

"i don't see your oldest here, ma'am", you say.

"oh, she got accepted to that secretarial position she applied to", her voice swells with pride, "she left last week".

"you must be so proud", you smile, "it was for a magazine, wasn't it?"

"yes, your grace", she sounds surprised, "the lady's gazette, it's called. it's a big deal in the city".

you know this. you had called your friend in the magazine administration to put in a good word, but mrs. henley doesn't need to know that.

"how exciting", you smile, "how is the house without her?"

"oh, your grace", her smile wobbles, "children leave you when they grow up, but one is never quite ready for the emptiness when they're gone. you'll know what i mean, once you have your own".

you chuckle, not being able to divert her question as smoothly as you would've at a society ball. unlike the nobles that attend those functions, you like the woman - having found a kinship with her in trying to convince her rather stubborn husband (she always believed you were right).

children. you'd be lying if you said the thought hasn't crossed your mind since you married minghao, but you haven't really considered it for your near future. the limited discussion you had with the duke on the topic left the notion as a possibility in the distant future.

as if on instinct, your eyes seek out minghao, finding him crouching in front of a young boy in the corner of the room. children, you realize, seem like a much more inviting idea than you'd have thought. almost as if he can feel your gaze, he turns around, his twinkling eyes meeting yours.

"maybe someday", you answer mrs. henley, tearing away your eyes from your husband's.

SCENE 2: on the carriage ride back to the castle (the residence of the duke and duchess). the ride stops suddenly.

"what's the matter?", minghao steps out and asks the coachman, james.

"there's some problem with the wheels, your grace", the young man replies, "if you give me a few minutes, i can run to the castle and fetch another carriage".

"that isn't required", you poke your head out of the car, "we can just walk there, it shouldn't take us long at all".

"are you sure?", minghao's voice is soft, "aren't you tired?".

"not at all", you huff and step out of the car, ignoring his hand, "but i understand if you are".

he looks at you for a second, mirth flashing in his narrow eyes.

"we'll walk, james".

SCENE 3: on the walk back to the castle. no one is in sight as the couple walks through the ground.

"mrs. henley outdid herself today", minghao's voice is quiet in the night.

"yes, she did. the village will be talking about this for weeks", you try to ignore his hand brushing against yours, "her oldest left for a job last week, i think she got involved in the planning to not think about the empty house".

"she's not the only one torn up about it. her youngest was forlorn too, said he's going to send his sister some paintings he's making".

ah. so that's what that conversation with the young boy was about.

"and let me guess", you say with a smile, "you're going to send him a set of paints - without your name ofcourse".

"he'll never use them if he knows who they're from".

your heart warms at your husband's thoughtfulness. when he inherited the title and estate after the unexpected death of his uncle and his cousin, he could've just given it up and lived his life as a poet and painter in france. despite his distaste for the title, he took this responsibility on - solely to give the people of the estate a better life.

"what are you thinking?", his voice is soft. nervous.

"that i married a good man".

minghao says nothing, taking your hand in his and bringing it to his lips, turning to look at you. your eyes catch a small flower on his hair, and you laugh, breaking the tender moment.

"there's a flower on your hair", you answer his questioning glance.

"i'm not surprised, there were so many of them today", he shakes his head, but the stubborn flower stays, "i don't know how you don't have any on your head", he pauses, a sly smile taking over his face, "but then i don't know if i could differentiate between you and a bloom".

"you know for a poet, you're quite bad with words", you chuckle.

"in my defense", he holds a finger up, grinning widely, "i'm a former poet".

out of their own will, your eyes move to the flower again.

"i cannot take anything you say seriously while you have that thing on your hair", you move to still him, placing your hands on his arms, "it looks like it's growing out of you".

your hands reach up to slowly disentangle the bloom out of his hair as he stands very still, watching you intently. you take the flower and insert it into his breast pocket, whispering a "there, done".

there's a moment of silence as the two of you stand a hair's width apart, taking each other in under the gentle moonlight.

you move to kiss him (or does he move to kiss you?), your hands running up his chest to wrap around his neck as his arms fasten around your waist.

#this is just me world building xD #just me indulging in the au in my head - nothing to see here #seventeen #seventeen fluff #seventeen imagine #seventeen imagines #the8 #the8 fluff #the8 imagines #the8 imagine #minghao #minghao fluff #minghao imagine #minghao imagines #minghao x reader #xu minghao #the8 x reader #the8 by amelia

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wintcrstcrfall · 1 year ago

Text

Sharing that one singular event with him wasn't as surprising as one might've expected. There had been moments - brief, but persistent ones - where Marcella had wanted to blurt it out, with no other reason but because she trusted Ric enough to do it. Right at that moment, she was glad for choosing to wait, because sharing it now seemed like it was carrying more weight. Ricardo's reaction brought a sad grimace on her face, that hopefully looked a bit like a smile. "Thank you," she whispered, head leaning slightly towards the touch. After a moment, Marcella's own fingers started to travel upwards over his chest, not stopping until the tips reached his lips. The bitter thought that if the event hadn't marked her life so strongly, both of them probably never would've met at all, circled in her mind for a while now. It wasn't a new thought and yet... and yet it only registered as strongly in moments when they were together. Now, even more than before, because she could sense the warmth of his body seeping through her, the grip of Ric's other hand, still anchored at her hips. "Your face didn't scare me at all," Marcella returned the tease, making a point with the way her fingers slowly touched his lips, jaw, neck. "Even if I thought that music of yours to be strange at first." Lifting an eyebrow in a challenge, she couldn't help but chuckle, knowing how much he liked his music. And it was the truth. Almost always whatever he got playing in the cab was a far cry from what she listened on her own. At first it had annoyed her, then it was a source of a few laughs and eventually the death side eyes had completely disappeared. It had taken time and effort on his part - more than he needed to do and Marcella appreciated it all that more. She... appreciated him more than it was recommended, he had made that perfectly clear earlier at the bar. "Ric! Are you saying you can cook?" It would be pointless to pretend that this shift of theirs didn't surprise her. It was visible in the way her eyes widened, then a one sided smile slowly emerged as both of her hands wrapped around his neck once again. A part of her wanted to just tell him to kiss her, to rip her clothes and do everything he'd promised when they were out... and yet, Marcella slowly nodded before lifting herself up, lips pressing over his. "Okay. I'd love a dinner. I can help too, just tell me what you have in mind, papi."

There were moments where it felt natural to being with her like this. With their hands quietly exploring each other, Ricardo wanted nothing more than to lean in and steal another kiss - but it was clear the moment they were sharing wasn't just a lapse of lust as had happened just an hour ago in the bar, and then in the street. There was a hint of real attraction, he wanted to kiss her again because it just felt… right. That was scary, wasn't it? The last thing he wanted was for Marcella to pick up on just how real this was beginning to feel to him. Because that's not what they were.

Suddenly, the mood shifted. It was clear that something entered Marcella's mind — something he'd surely never understand the context to without being in that mind of hers himself. "Fucking hell," he couldn't help but curse after hearing her explanation. Mumbling a small apology, never aware of what came out of his mouth half the time. Ricardo wished he knew the right words. "I'm sorry that happened to you, reina." He finally managed, his brow furrowed as his hands unconsciously strengthened their grip on her hips. Wanting to comfort her in such a stupid way. "To be honest, I don't know what made you get in my cab. My musical taste is impressive yes, but I have tendency of scaring people with this face." He attempted to joke and cracked a smile. There were times Ricardo had convinced himself he was a bad man, someone just aimlessly getting by in life, but his parents had instilled one persistent thing in him: kindness. He made a lot of mistakes and oftentimes felt like an idiot, but he just wanted to make her smile again. "I'm so glad you did, though. I'm glad you're safe." She was safer with him than he was with her. Holding her in his arms as she opened up to him in a way she hadn't done these past few months, Ricardo was more and more aware of that fact. "Thank you for sharing this with me." One hand left her waist to slowly caress the skin of her cheek. His dark eyes studying her silently and putting aside the urge to kiss her again to ask instead, "Would you like me to prepare some dinner?" Ric knew he wasn't the best at comforting - but damned if he couldn't make sure she had something good to eat.

#c: ricardo #{{ ~ ricardo x marcella ~ }}#{{ ~ interactions. ~ marcella santos. ~ }}

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veliseraptor · 3 years ago

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If ILCBT Xue Yang outlived his daozhangs do you think he'd revert, or attempt to stick with his vague estimations of what they probably would have wanted, or start with the second and slide into the first, or...

oh boy, this is a good question and one that Xue Yang has never considered because in his head it's just a straight up given that he's going to die first. like, that's not even a question for him, particularly since Xiao Xingchen and Song Lan both have at least decent odds of cultivating to immortality if they try and certainly are strong enough to live longer lives, and that's...not out of reach for Xue Yang but his lifespan is almost certainly going to be truncated relative to theirs (on account of both rough living for years, the fact that he's very hard on his body generally, and the demonic cultivation/general historical lack of investment in making an effort in that direction). like, he's going to live longer in this verse than he would otherwise (already has!) and probably longer than your average non-cultivator, but even if he doesn't die violently (and that's still kind of low-key his assumption, warranted or not) his ability to survive to an old age is...dubious.

but say hypothetically that he's wrong about that...the next question is how the other two go down. if they die peacefully then that's one thing; if they die because they get killed that's something else.

(if they were killed by a person there is no power on earth that would keep him from absolutely shredding them. and making it really, really, really hurt, for a while. and then bringing them back from the dead so he can keep going. there are limits! and if his daoshi are going to be disappointed then they can damn well show up and do something about it. and if he ended up getting arrested/executed for it I think he'd consider it worth it and not the worst outcome.)

but generally speaking and in a broader sense, I don't think he'd...go completely off the rails in either case. at that point he'd have longer living with the moral guidelines/guardrails than without them, so if it's not natural or intuitive it's at least more familiar than not. and depending on how far this is in the future, a-Qing is still very much a present tether in this universe, too. so while I think some things would probably slip a little, I don't think he'd actually drop right back into all his old habits.

like...if somebody did something that really pushed his buttons and pissed him off, I think it'd be a lot dicier for him to not react more violently than he would've had there been actually present daoshi figuratively over his shoulder, but I think the habit would still be there going "that's not what we do, remember" that would hold him off from acting purely on impulse.

I have a lot of feelings basically about the fact that I think...okay, morality and ethics don't come to Xue Yang automatically or easily, it's not how he thinks and for a long time he didn't really make an effort to change that. but the thing is that that's something you can learn, and with learning come to make habits that stick. you're establishing a new way of thinking and with familiarity and custom that can become...not automatic, maybe never automatic, but something that does surface in a way it wouldn't have otherwise. and that's kind of what I see Xue Yang doing, or starting to do, in Yi City - not consciously, but at least partly through necessity of needing to behave as though he is A Not Suspicious Non-Murdery Human Being for a long time, but also because it turns out that he likes some of the results of putting in that effort.

but then everything comes crashing down and the changes haven't taken strong enough of hold to keep him from turning to what's still more comfortable and familiar. when he's distressed and confused and I think surprised by how much Xiao Xingchen's anger is hitting him in a bad way, Xue Yang knows how to hurt people. that's safe, and easy, and comforting, and what's always worked for him before.

but in this universe there's much more time put into that work, and significant rewards for doing it, and so I think he becomes less and less likely to make that reversion, because it's no longer so much what he knows best; it doesn't so much define what's served him well.

honestly I think the hardest part for Xue Yang might well be not just fuckin. bringing them back from the dead anyway. yeah they'll be mad about it probably but whatever, they'll get over it right???? it'd take some serious work on both Song Lan and Xiao Xingchen's part to get him to promise to not do that and even then it'd be hard to resist the temptation if he thought there was a remote possibility of it working.

#conversating #anonymous #wow this got long #i always feel kinda weird putting my ilcbt headcanons in the main character tags #but then i do it anyway #xue yang #aggressively headcanons #songxuexiao #if living can be this

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the-goddess-of-mischief-writing · 3 years ago

Text

New York High Rise {3}

Series summary; What does Steve think of what just happened? Well, not only will his next client get to know but also a dear friend of the mob boss.

Pairing: mob!Steve x mob!reader

Rating: Mature

CHAPTER NO/ONESHOT: Chapter 3/5

Word; 6.2k

Warnings; canon type violence, death, anything you could expect from a mafia!au

Author; @the-goddess-of-mischief-writing

A/N: I just want to warn anyone, this chapter revolve around Steve and contains graphic scenes so if anyone feel like they may get triggered, I have now warned you. If you choose to read anyways it is YOUR choice.

SERIES MASTERLIST

Steve was fuming. He could practically feel the steam rising from the top of his head. This time, compared to earlier, it wasn't because of the feverish warmth inside the club. Nor the sunny season's air outside. It was because of the folder resting on the table.

The Canine boss could still hear the echoing slap the orderly stacked papers had done when landing on the table. Even your words reverberated in his head like an annoying tune he couldn't help but mutely sing in his mind.

This was not how he'd thought this meeting would go.

Steve had planned to get his will through, to expand his empire from Brooklyn to the most successful part of New York, Manhattan, your territory. But no. You'd decided to be as stubborn as a mule and as stuck up as the bureaucrats that he needed to handle in exclusive deals.

Now he understood why so many said your empire wasn't the usual kind, rather something new. You'd built your syndicate from the best, or worst in regard of how the Canine for the moment saw you, of two worlds.

"Bitch", you were long gone, so the growled curse aimed at you went unheard. However, the walls around Steve caught the profanity he uttered whilst snagging the folder from the table and pursued to head out of the room.

Only the guards stationed outside the corridor leading to the conference room was still in the club. Yet, the Canine boss paid them no mind as he stalked out of the private area, making them scramble to follow him. The rest of his party, even those previously undercover, must have either retreated for the night or waited outside. Concerning how Steve himself hadn't left yet, he suspected at least his most trusted team was waiting by the car.

Passing through the lobby, the mob boss frightened some of the staff lingering about. Not only thanks to the authority he always carried himself with but also his visible darkened features. However, Steve's attention didn't stray to the people following him with wary eyes. Instead, he looked straight forward, focusing on his guards where they lounged around the black Chrysler he'd arrived with a few hours earlier.

Seemingly, they had enough of an engaging conversation that they shared some laughs. But that changed the moment Steve stepped through the door a bouncer held open for him.

Usually, the Canine boss' hard exterior dissolved somewhat among his men, seeing how they'd become good comrades. Although now, when the dark-blonde man came out of the club looking like he could kill someone, their easy smiles and carefree stance immediately smartened up. Backs straightened and jaws clenched upon seeing the fury Steve not only emitted with a scowl but his whole body.

"How did it go?" One of the guards questioned, more out of courtesy than curiosity, concerning it was clear how it went. As suspected, he got nothing more than a glare from Steve, seeing how his anger hadn't flickered out the slightest, only heightened when feeling how his fingers clutched the folder in his hand even tighter. Your folder with your contract.

"Where's Barnes?" Some flinched by his bark of a question.

"He's still inside...", the rest of the answer fell on deaf ears as the blonde rounded the car, not caring too much where his head bodyguard was for the moment, only that he would hurry up to finish whatever he dealt with.

"As soon as he's back, we go", the driver, who had noticed the Canine boss and stepped out of the vehicle to hold open the door for him, didn't even get the chance to do what he intended. Steve all but tore open the backseat door and climbed into the car. Leaving the chauffeur to stand there and look at his boss in perplexity, as the Canine didn't more than touch the black leather seat before he slammed the door shut again.

That Steven had a temper everyone in his vicinity knew. But how he now acted reached not only a new level but contrasted heavily to how you'd appeared.

You'd left about ten minutes ago, looking indifferent to how everyone in Steven's patrol had seen you when first entering the designated conference room. That guard of yours had led you to the car parked mere ten feet from their own boss'. There, your chauffeur had greeted you with a smile and a few quiet words none besides you were meant to hear. Neither was your response, that likewise was accompanied with a smile, able to be distinguished.

As you stepped into your transport, none of the men trying to read your expressions noted anything more than a similar politeness Steve could show them once in their company. However, when comparing it to the state of their own boss once he exited, it was clear that the meeting didn't favour the Canine boss, but rather the Feline. And though none who had accompanied Steven knew what the two of you'd discussed concerning the meeting had been a closed-door discussion, they knew their boss hadn't brought anything with him earlier. So when spotting the portfolio that the mob boss had held in his hand, it only sealed the deal further.

That was why none of the guards nor the chauffeur intruded on the solitude Steve had sought inside the car, merely waiting for the right-hand man of the Canine boss to return so they could head to their next stop.

And it was good none did either, seeing how Steve mulled over everything that had happened with curses leaving him every five seconds. Additionally, anyone who would've opened the opposite backseat door would have got your folder smack in the forehead, seeing how the blonde man had thrown it as harshly and as far away from himself that he could, once in his own confinement.

He didn't need to hold the damned contract you'd offered him, even less open and study it, to know he would read it in your annoying voice. And that aggravated Steve even more.

It annoyed him that your voice echoed as a constant reminder in his mind. It annoyed him that you'd prepared a contract, which so obviously cried you hadn't even come here to listen to him in the first place. It annoyed him to such a fucking degree that you'd played him by a mere act of forced courtesy rather than a gentlemen move, to use your own words, that it felt like he could just tear the contract to shreds.

Still, he didn't.

The blonde man seethed, turning his head to look at the folder. 'If you don't sign it and have it delivered to me, I know you've declined my offer and this war will be ended in another way.' He knew you were serious about that, so perhaps that was why he hadn't left it behind in the conference room. Nonetheless, it had taken a great effort for Steve to push away every ounce of pride in his body to grab ahold of it. And when he finally held the stiff cartoon folder, it had almost felt like it burned him like some crucifix. No, it burned like a sign of defeat.

Joseph Rogers would never have done it, never admitted when he was defeated.

At the thought of his father, Steve's hand fisted where it rested on the armrest dividing the two seats in the back of the car. What would he say? He probably wouldn't have said anything, just walked out as you had done to him. A vibration deep in his chest made a low sound leave him at the realisation you actually played the game his father always had and Steve himself only thought he had.

Fittingly, or unfittingly in his own mind, the door connected to the other seat opened with a click to interrupt the abusive thoughts of his father.

Although pulled out of his mind, Steve didn't glance to see whoever plucked the folder occupying the seat beside him before they climbed in themselves. There was only one person that first and foremost would dare to be in his presence right now. On top of that, also knew he was the only one who didn't need to repeatedly ask for permission to join him.

Not even when he saw the person shift in his peripheral, from simply holding the folder to actually waving it slightly to catch his attention, clearly wanting to ask him a question, did Steve look towards them. Although, he did speak up.

"Not a word, Barnes", the Canine boss raised his fist, so it was levelled with his cheek as he said this. By now, his nails had dug into his palm and there was no question small crescent moons would be dented in his skin.

"Maybe I should've stayed, after all", the sentence was followed by a chuckle, the sound making Steve snap to watch the man sitting beside him.

"Didn't I say you should keep your mouth shut?" The blonde stared at the brunette. Who, unlike earlier, now had pulled his hair into a low bun in the nape of his neck. However, no matter the fury the Canine's cold blue eyes conveyed, Bucky Barnes saw no real threat.

"You often do, but you have so far not put a bullet in me", Bucky shrugged with an easy smile.

The mob boss remained silent as his head bodyguard leaned forwards far enough to knock on the wall beside the still open windshield that could separate the driver from those in the back seat.

"Close it up", Steve honestly thought the brunette would've given the chauffeur, who now had taken his place behind the wheel, directions of where to go. Gauging by his act, he must have done it before getting into the car. Hence, the driver did nothing but nod to signify he heard what the guard said before closing the visor, leaving whatever Steve knew Bucky wanted to talk to him about for only him to hear.

He felt the car rock to a gentle start, the road underneath the vehicle sending small vibrations throughout Steve. Tilting his head, he saw the scenery blur as he didn't concentrate on anything specific they drow by.

Despite the initial silence of the car ride, the blonde saw how the man beside him shifted, angling his body just slightly more his way. The minimal change of where Bucky attention laid told the mob boss he would initiate a conversation. And as on a cue, Bucky spoke. "So what happened? 'Cause clearly you scared half of your squad enough for them to want to take a week off".

He didn't redirect his gaze, fearing that his now fisted hand would connect with his friend's jaw if he didn't control himself. What happened? The question taunted in his mind, enough so that Steve clenched his jaw. Everything that shouldn't have happened.

"You have the folder", he gritted out, continuing to aimlessly stare out of the window, now concentrating on how the scenery changed from the narrow streets the nightclub had been located in to instead manifest the glittering sunset reflecting off the water in East River.

Beside him, he felt how Bucky shifted and shortly afterwards came the sounds of papers starting to be turned over. The head guard sat silent as he read the contract that not even the Canine had looked through.

The lack of verbal confirmation of Steve's evident loss in this meeting spurred the blonde, whether he wanted or not, to glance at the brunette.

Bucky's brows were furrowed. Consequently causing the grooves on his forehead, which always appeared when he pondered something, to become extremely visible. His features remained this way as his eyes scanned over the rows stitching together the contract. Then, for some reason, they changed.

From an expression showing the brunette tried to fathom the situation that had made Steve considerably harsher to anyone in his close vicinity, his face now fell and a smirk began to toy with his lips. On top of this, he let out a low whistle turning to the next page.

The smouldering anger in Steve's chest flared up to the same intensity it had burned with earlier. Back when he had sat in silence and glared at the folder inside the club. He ground his teeth together, feeling how they caught in each other's pointy edges.

"What?" He demanded to know what the man all of a sudden found so entertaining. Yet, the answer didn't come immediately. Instead, Bucky sat there with the same expression pinning his face while finishing the document in his grip.

Not until the brunette had closed the binder and waved it similarly to how he'd done when entering the car did his gaze meet Steve's. His eyes, also blue but slightly greyer in colour, was crinkled in the corners. The amusement, or whatever caused the mob boss nostrils to flare in agitation, was only further displayed by the shake of his head.

"She's good".

"What?" Bucky almost hadn't finished his nearly wordless reply before Steve barked his requirement of an explanation.

"Whether you want to admit it aloud or not, I know you think about it in that analysing brain of yours", the brunette begun, pushing the folder underneath the mob boss' arm on the armrest. Steve, who followed the act with disdain, shuffled in his seat directly afterwards so he wouldn't be touching the contract which you formerly had been carrying around.

Watching the blonde's action, Bucky only continued, now even less worried his words might be wrong and evoke further anger from the Canine. Of course, he might still get mad, though Bucky knew he at least was right. "She is good, Steve. If not shown by this contract, which I suggest you read, then at least how she's gotten to you".

The blonde man elected to ignore the last part of his bodyguard's sentence. Hence, only questioning the first part. "Why should I read it?"

Arrogance was a trait many shared once someone stepped on their pride, but never had Bucky witnessed such amounts of it exhibited by the Canine boss. His nose twitched in the corner as if the mere thought of opening the papers offended him. The mistrust in his voice showed he didn't believe what just was advised to him, nor that the words of you being competent could be true. All signs of denial, a damaged pride.

"Sometimes I wondered how you even could've come this far to rebuild your father's empire when you're so stubborn to see the truth at times", the comment made Steve cock his head.

"Is that a threat or a call for resignation, I hear?" Bucky simply rolled his eyes and turned to fully face the man, now giving him his undivided attention.

"I may have been here from the day you called me and asked me to join your plans, but believe me, working outside this world for some time, especially in the field I was in, you learn to see who is good at their job and not".

Although Bucky had known Steve ever since they were kids, essentially because their fathers had been partners when the Canine empire was worth more than its own power in gold, the two had fallen out of the regular touch they'd kept after Joseph had passed. Steve had remained close to his mother. While Bucky returned to have both his feet in the ordinary world.

His name had never been brought into the discussion of conviction or any kind of youth crimes, essentially thanks to his father never being proven guilty of the few charges raised against him. Another favour his old man thanked the former Canine boss for. For Bucky, it made things easy to find live his life as if he didn't know what went on underneath the city he walked in.

He went to school, took a degree in law. Which his father before passing as well, considered humorous. Though, Bucky didn't start working directly even if offered jobs. He'd been young and not really knowing which direction he would go. He had no mothers footsteps to follow, seeing how she'd passed before he even had a memory of her. His father shoes still felt too big to fill, so he decided to follow a path he felt natural.

Bucky joined the army. Not more than a few years and two trips. Nevertheless, it was easy pocket change concerning two factors. His father had urged him to take the same martial art classes as Steve's father had done to him. He'd also lived with one foot in the syndicate and the other outside during his whole childhood. The concept of order, planning and warfare wasn't anything alarmingly new to him.

Then he'd begun to explore more, starting to step into the low tier position as an intern at different firms. It was easy to get in, concerning his degree and quickly, he gained enough working experience to get a promotion. His former boss at the advocate company may have thought Bucky was a natural talent or a genius from school. But, it was all thanks to his upbringing he possed the requirements a higher position demanded.

It's mainly thanks to his years working within the judiciary before reconnecting with Steve and began working as his head guard Bucky knows you fall into the group of people who are good at what you do.

The blonde had sat silent this whole time, never breaking away from Bucky's stare. It made the brunette believe that his friend would settle whatever resent he had towards you personally and at least read through the arrangement you assembled for the greater of his empire. Apparently, he was wrong.

"But now you're not working with that anymore", Bucky actually let out a low scoff of annoyance.

"I'm working as a head personal guard for someone I'm swaying on keeping alive at the moment, I know. And I do this because we both know I'm better at the combat part than you, ever since we were kids", despite the jab, it was the mention of how the man, despite being roughly the same size as Steve, always had been slightly better at fighting then himself that made the blonde bite his inner cheek. "I also know that I'm still damn good at what used to be my former profession. Which, you actually also should know concerning you never shoo me out of the room when discussing with your official advisors of the plans to come", when he finally ended the point he wanted to prove, he cocked a brow at Steve, who now had furrowed his brows.

Bucky saw the ire still lingering in the blondes' eyes, making them go cold rather than warm. Nevertheless, he said nothing. The Canine boss simply gave the folder, which hadn't moved from its settlement no matter how much the two men gently had rocked with the turns of the car, one last glare before he altogether turned away as much as his seat let him.

The head bodyguard was close to letting the comment of how similar the mob boss, who'd made a name for himself lately of being indifferent to everything standing in his way, was to a rebellious child. Yet, in the end, he didn't, knowing the car ride would become even more atrocious than it already was set to be.

As suspected, the whole drive from the club to the luxurious hotel, where the Canine boss' next stop was, went by in complete silence. And, when they finally pulled up outside the building, the car had almost not stopped before Steve opened the door without a word. The brunette couldn't but let out a huff and follow the man out of the vehicle.

As Bucky tracked a few steps behind the blonde mob boss, he nodded to a few of the other bodyguards to follow as well. Whatever he might have remarked about considering to keep Steve alive was very much said as a dig at the moment to remind the man he might be written as his subordinate, but he was true to nature working side by side with him. After all, Steven was his friend and Bucky didn't desire to get his blood on his hands.

When the little party of Canines neared the entrance, both men stationed on each side of the doors opened them without further ado. Either they thought Steve looked like someone fitting to live here, or they could've been paid to do so. The brunette figured it was the latter concerning the overall safety measures, not only this hotel but the district in general upheld. Although, he didn't question it way too much as he now concentrated on the slightly denser crowd of people in the lobby.

Not only did they blend in quite well, concerning the people living at this hotel was flanked by at least two bodyguards each. Bucky also noticed how some of the former rigidity in Steve's shoulder lessened as he weaved through the lobby.

Though anyone else may find it excellent that the physical aspect of the blondes former irritation trickled off, it unsettled Bucky even further. Thus, having grown up with Steve, he knew that the silent seething anger was worse than the outgoing one. This, in other words, didn't bode particularly well.

However, even though the brunette had a raising suspicion, along with fear, that this visit the mob boss had decided to do after his meeting with you wouldn't have a good outcome, he had no chance to voice his worry. Essentially because the elevator they'd taken to reach the floor they were heading to now stopped.

Bucky was first to exit the elevator. Checking that the coast was clear before looking back to the Canine boss. He tried making the blonde meet his gaze, now seriously doubting if Steve was fit to meet the partner he'd had an escalating problem with the past weeks. Yet, the blue-eyed man kept his attention straight forward and didn't even spare his childhood friend a glance.

A thousand things were running through Steve's mind as he headed down the corridor, spotting the door his business partner was on the other side of.

He knew Bucky tried gaining his attention with the repetitive looks he threw his way. His most entrusted bodyguard and friend could read him like an open book. Thus knowing the silent facade that he'd put up was just that, a facade. Still, he continued to ignore him as he'd done ever since their conversation was over half an hour ago.

As the party stopped before the door, Steve decided to give the inclining nod to one of his other guards to step forwards and knock on the door.

Following three rapid knocks, a call of 'no cleaning' followed by a similar set of knockings later, footsteps could be heard near the door from the other side. A few seconds after, the door swung open, revealing a man currently trying to fasten his cufflinks.

"I said I didn't...". Even though the brunette's eyes had been cast down as he'd began to speak, the second they flickered up to watch, what the man must have assumed would be a hotel maid but rather was the Canine mob boss, he trailed off in his sentence.

"Good day Mr Jefferson", if the man's body hadn't already gone rigid, his shoulders bounced up even closer to his ears after Steve's greeting.

In a hurried attempt to smarten up, he completed his attempt of fastening the jewellery pin.

"Mr Rogers", he breathed out almost shakily while pulling a hand through his hair, some of the strands sticking to his scalp while others simply fell forwards once more. "Why do I owe the pleasure?"

Without answering, Steve stepped forwards, forcing the man to open the door wider.

As he walked into the pad, the blonde gazed around it uninterestingly. It was lavish. Probably like most rooms were in the hotel.

"I'm here to talk with you". Steve answered his associates question the second he heard the door closed. Taking the liberty, he sat down in the couch group occupying a vaster portion of the entry room's space. "Sit", with a wave of his hand, the Canine motioned to the sitting place at the other side of the dark oak table.

Jefferson, who glanced warily at the guards that had stationed themselves around the room -one by the window, another two directly behind Steve and the last lingering by the door out to the corridor- had no other choice than to follow the mob boss' directions.

Sitting down at the edge of the seat, he swallowed around the lump in his throat.

"How's business going?" The mob boss asked as he leaned against the couches backrest. One arm was slung over the ridge, fingers tapping against the material, while his other hand rested on his thigh.

"Bussines is going well".

"Good, always nice to hear companies you invest in are going strong", Steve hummed, noticing the minimal shift Jefferson did as he said this. "How's my money going?"

"Ah... t-that question is a little more complicated...".

Even though the brunette continued to ramble about all the different reasons his payments were late, or not even that, non-existing, the Canine boss didn't listen. He knew he was being screwed over by the man opposite him. He'd gotten the information weeks ago that the CEO of the company he's worked with since the beginning of the year wanted to change sides.

At first, it had been more of a rumour and he hadn't been able to dig up where Jefferson's company was heading. Then it became clear they would switch partners to one of the other godfather's around New York. However, even if Steve thought he didn't like how they tried doing so in the shadows while still upholding their deal, the worst thing was when he got to know who they shifted their alliance to. You.

Seeing how much unfavourable publicity you'd given his empire in the last few months was aggravating. However, listening to the man talking his ear off as if Steve hadn't already figured why exactly fifteen percentages of the profit capital was rolling into your account instead of his was the last drop.

Without even noticing it himself, Steve's hand that had rested upon his thigh raised and were tucked into his suit.

The metal handle he gripped wasn't cold anymore, not after having rested so close to his heart for over an hour. Nor did it get cooled down as he hastily pulled it out of its holster and aimed it at the man opposite him.

"I don't like rats, Landon", the use of the man's first name rather than surname would've made him quiet if the gun aimed his way already hadn't silenced him. "Pray you don't get reborn as one in your next life as well".

On the firearm, a silencer was mounted. So the characteristic bang sounded much more like a pop. Therefore, the noise of the gun was even less intimidating than the ricochet. However, neither of the telltale signs of a shot made Steve flinch, not even as he watched the bullet penetrate the space in-between his former associate's eyes, did he react.

As the mob boss stood, Jefferson's upper body slumped forward, hitting the table with a heavy thud and ugly clap as his head was the first thing that connected with it. No tears were trickling down his cheeks. Only a red streak that steadily created a near-invisible puddle on the mahogany table.

"Steve!" The silence and peace Steve found in watching the body was cut short by Bucky's voice.

The Canine glanced to his side, regarding how his head bodyguard rounded the couch and stood before him with one single step.

"What the fuck was that?" The brunette exclaimed, hand motioning to the dead body.

If any other person than Bucky would've done the same thing in this instance, they either would've ended up joining peaceful Mr Jefferson, or they wouldn't work within the Canine empire anymore. However, concerning that it now was his childhood friend staring at him in disbelief, Steve made sure none of the options was carried through.

"Problem-solving", Steve answered, about to take a step forwards but were stopped with a hand planting itself on his chest. He looked down before looking up with a cocked eyebrow.

"That ain't how we solve shit!"

"Not we, but I", Steve said, gripping Bucky's wrist, ripping it away from him. "You see, now both our problems are solved. He doesn't need to fear his cover being blown and I don't need to lose more money". That was all Steve said before taking a step around the brunette, whose eyes had narrowed considerably.

As most of his colleagues trailed after their boss, Bucky stayed back just a second longer, looking at the lifeless body giving a new sheen to the table whilst staining the carpet underneath. He'd known Steve had taken your conference badly and he also knew it hadn't been a good idea to have this appointment so shortly afterwards, especially when it was connected to you, but in such a different way. Still, he hadn't believed it would take this much of a turn.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

"Damn that fucking thing!" Steve roared, not thinking when he swept his hands over his desk. Everything from pencils, an empty coffee cup and other things crashed to the floor. However, it wasn’t solely that which now was littering the ground. The papers of your contract had flown out of the folder as well.

Staring down at the mess of shattered glass and paper from his standing position. The Canine boss felt a sneer enter his features. Ever since returning home late last night, he'd been locked inside his study. Primary because it was the place no one dared to disturb him in, but also because he didn't feel like arguing with Bucky.

He knew that after the stunt, as he knew his friend and bodyguard would label his approach to the Jefferson problem, the brunette wanted to speak with him. Yet, with the residue anger of not only a restless night, one Steve had powered through thanks to copious amounts of coffee. But also the subject now taunting him on the floor, a conversation with his right-hand man would lead nowhere.

He and Bucky didn't often get into fights, but Steve was convinced this was one of the matters that could force such a confrontation. He'd still not gathered his bearings enough to admit that he needed to yield. Because that was what he would need to do.

The mob boss switched from watching the scattered pieces of the contract to instead stare straight into the oaken surface of his desk as he now leant on it, knuckles turning white from how strongly he held the countertop. By now, he'd read through the four-page agreement. Something that was a step in the right, or in Steve's regard wrong, direction.

He didn't want to admit it. But as Bucky had mentioned yesterday, it was a top-certified contract. He couldn't find any loopholes. No grey-zones. No area that he could play you on.

Steve knew that you would be hard to crack, but he hadn't anticipated this.

Despite knowing that you and the Felina empire had overtaken his father's grip on New York, he had underestimated you. A woman running the empire you did was so uncommon he thought you would have some weak spot regarding how you had no one else to look up to. Nor did you have any previous family connections to the underworld. Which honestly made your success even more astonishing.

Almost so much it was questionable if you had done it yourself.

Steve had assumed you hadn't. Someone else must be the brain behind the operation, simply using you as a puppet. However, it seemed he'd made a tremendous mistake by assuming just that. It wasn't anyone else running your empire. You were involved in every little part of the well-oiled machine.

Once more, the canine boss let out an irritated noise, sounding more like a growl than a harsh sigh in his own ears.

He pushed off from the countertop and, in one motion, had side-stepped his chair. Now, with the room behind him, Steve stared out of the windows lining the wall furthest from the entrance. His arms had crossed over his chest and remained there as he stared out at the bay not far away.

Ferries and other boats travelled the waters. Breaking the tension and creating small waves. If it wasn't for this, it almost would've looked like they travelled through the city. Regarding how not only New York's but also Brooklyn's dusk lightning reflected in the water.

When the Canine boss finally felt the sight before him lessened the tension in his shoulders, a knock came from the door.

If his features ever had lightened, the sound immediately beckoned a furrow to take its place. Even more so when the door opened without him having given the person on the other side permission.

He knew who it was, Bucky.

"What do you want?" Steve's voice was cold, harsh.

"I want to speak with you", instantly, the mob boss noticed how his friend's voice didn't carry that joyous tone when he spoke to him as just that, friends. Bur rather the more levelled one, the professional one.

"I won't speak about Jefferson".

"Neither is that why I'm here", glancing over his shoulder upon hearing the rustle of paper, the Canine boss saw his guard pick up the pieces of the contract from the floor. He arranged them before putting them back into the folder. Contrary to how Steve would've caused the map to give away a whack when flinging it onto his desk. Bucky's hand followed through the whole movement. His fingers even resting upon the grey folder as it laid placid on the middle of the counter.

"I'm here to talk about the real problem", Steve turned to face the brunette. He didn't say anything. Still, Bucky knew that having gotten this much attention was a sign he either was about to be shot or given a limited amount to talk.

"I know this is hard for you, Steve... actually scratch that, it is hard for everyone who's supported you. But I'll be damned if you let everything we've worked for go to waste because you don't have it in you to lose a battle in favour of winning a later war"

All of a sudden, Bucky's face twisted as an unexpected crash echoed. His fist had smashed onto the table. Enough for the countertop to rattle.

“I love to give you the most personal advice I've ever had”, he started, not even holding back his pent up frustration. “Sign that fucking contract, pal". The canine boss' blue eyes narrowed as he met the stormy grey ones of the man before him.

"Get out", Bucky clenched his jaw and straightened himself.

"I'll be waiting for the call to come and pick it up", was the last thing the brunette said before swiftly turning on his heel and heading to the door.

Steve followed his oldest friend with his eyes until the door echoes shut behind him. Even after Bucky's footsteps were long gone, did the Canine boss stare forward. He did it simply because he didn't want to let his eyes flicker down to the contract, now turned to the last page where the paper waited for his signature.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

A day later, Steve still stared at the folder resting un-signed on his desk. It was out of pure spite he hadn't signed it. To keep your victory at bay.

Two days later and he felt how the clock on his wall ticked louder than before. How the voices in his head escalated from whispering to shouting at him. 'Sign that fucking contract, pal.'

Three days later and Steve felt how time was running out.

Even if he didn't want to admit it aloud. To not sign would be foolish. Sure, he had the resources to continue this war. Hence, the short extra time the meeting and his delay in signing the contract had abled him to recoup. But still, his empire was lacking a significant piece his father's syndicate had, time. He needed more time to grow but wasn't given that. So yes, he could continue this battle, but he could not win it.

Therefore the mob boss gripped the pen and pressed the ink dipped tip to the dotted line.

His signature was darker than usual. More colour bleeding onto the paper. The curves of the letters were not as smooth as regular either. Instead, straighter, pointier. Forced.

Steve didn't look at his name shining back at him once he raised the pen and put it back in its stand. Instead, Steve stood and dialled a number on his phone. One tone was all it took before the person on the other end picked up.

"Get it out of my sight, Barnes", was all he said before instantly hanging up. The call had lasted four seconds. Even so, Steve deleted it from the history of his 'latest' list.

Shoving the phone into his pockets, the blonde man stood from his chair and headed to the office doors. He didn't look back once at the folder left behind on his desk. Not even when he closed the doors behind him.

Series taglist: @njrronaldo7 @fanfic-love-show @gabycamargo22 @fckdeusername

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manikas-whims · 4 years ago

Text

A Tantalizing Surprise

[Read on AO3]

for Kanej Week (@kanejweek) Day 5: Love (domesticity)

It took around eight years and a lot of mutual support to achieve this level of intimacy. But he was glad they never gave up..

• Friend 1: write Inej in a silk dress and some sexy Kanej moment Friend 2: No! Write injured Kaz being patched up by Inej Me: *an unbiased friend* mixes both requests into this fic ~♥ • I headcanon Liddies being a gang run by women :)

Kaz Brekker utterly despised private parleys. Majority of the time they were a farce. Excuses crafted in order to get him alone and put an end to his reign forever. Everytime a haughty barrel boss offered him a drink or a condescending mercher invited him for dinner, it wasn't for the sake of striking amiable business deals with him. But to drive a knife through his rotten heart or shoot a bullet into that scheming head of his.

And yet he had agreed to meet the leader of the Liddies in a small coffee house on the bustling streets of the East Stave. They were stirring up too much ruckus and if left unchecked any longer, they'd embolden every other gang to go against the Dregs. Dirtyhands couldn't let that happen, now could he?

As suspected, no pleasantries were exchanged. The door was jammed shut immediately upon his arrival.

Their lieutenant, a burly, middle-aged brunette, attacked first. She tried smashing her wooden bat into his face but thankfully Anika blocked in time with a crowbar. Two other females followed, swinging rustic metal pipes at him which he managed to counter with his cane. Roeder was struggling on the other side, engaged in a one-on-one with their spider.

"This ends tonight, Brekker." Their leader howled from her perch atop a stool. "Barrel needs a queen."

"Barrel already has one." He responded calmly.

"The little whore? The one who's barely in this city?" she grinned sharply, getting up.

"Careful." His gaze turned steely and his gloved fingers flexed tensely onto the crow head of his cane. "I can gut you and your ladies for insulting my Wraith."

"I'd like to see you try." She sneered, madly lunging at him with her bare hands.

He sighed. This was going to be a long night.

The fight lasted for an hour. Liddies finally ran off when more Dregs arrived on the scene and broke down the coffee house's door.

Kaz dictated his gang to double the security around the Crow Club and his other establishments just in case. He then dug his fingers into his right leg in hopes of quelling a little of the ache there as he dragged himself back to his place. Not the slat anymore but a luxurious mansion on the Geldstraat. He had purchased it under a pseudonym after Councilman Hoede had passed away three years ago.

Blame Wylan for making him waste his kruge on a deadman's house. Though the dark wood walls and coffered ceilings looked amazing upon his first visit, he did get a few things renovated. Such as converting the dilapidated Grisha workshop into an ordinary shed and the addition of wild geraniums to the vast variety of flowering plants in the gardens.

Despite his habits, he pulled out a key that he kept within the hidden pocket on the left side of his coat and swiftly unlocked the large, black, entrance gates. The next few minutes of the long walk through the front stone pavement didn't feel regal, atleast not to his leg. He retrieved another key upon reaching the main doors. It was an odd experience every time— to enter a house this big without utilizing his skills in lock-picking.

He didn't stop to admire the blown glass chandeliers hanging from the ceiling or the stolen DeKappel displayed mockingly on the opposite end of the hall. He simply braced himself for the walk up the long staircase leading towards the more private quarters of the mansion.

His steps came to a halt only when he reached the master bedroom. And that too, not because it had been his destination all along but because he felt her presence.

He shook his head in disbelief. Maybe six months of being apart were taking a toll on him, playing tricks with his senses. Or maybe it was just an effect of blood loss due to the cut he'd taken during the fight with the Liddies.

He turned the knob and entered, the room same as ever. A bookshelf tucked in the left corner from the door, a vanity table with a full-length mirror right next to it; a door leading to the balcony and another door to the bathroom on the other end. And of course, the king-size bed atop which his eyes found her tantalizing form, aglow under the golden flame of the dimly burning lone candle.

Kaz regarded her silently. Her lithe frame was covered in a purple, silk nightgown that left barely anything to his imagination. Or rather, it was exactly the sight he envisioned every night. An ideal reverie where he pulled her onto his lap and kissed down the delicious curve of her neck. A fantasy where he relished in her whispers of his name. A fantasy where they did all the unholy things they're capable of now. A fantasy he had been yearning for yet kept locked in the darkest recesses of his twisted mind.

But this was different. This woman in his bed had longer hair and was far more breathtaking than any imagery he could will his mind to conjure. This was real. She was real.

"Saints!" She slid off the bed. "Kaz, what happened?"

Yes, she was real.

And she had chosen an interesting outfit for their reunion.

But it was unusual of her to dock in Ketterdam and not send a runner to let him know. Not to mention, she had somehow managed to sneak into their mansion without any keys.

"You're hurt!"

He scoffed at her concern and proceeded to discard his coat. After all the times they've fought and bled together, she should be used to witnessing him a little roughed up.

He peeled off his gloves with methodical ease and tossed them onto the table. Then he tentatively reached for one of her hands, his thumb stroking along the pulse in her wrist. There was no harm in confirming she was real and alive.

"Welcome back, Wraith."

She freed her wrist, completely ignoring his greeting, and placed her palms over his stubbled cheeks. Fortunately, no waves lapped up his skin. So he let her turn his face this way and that to check for any signs of injuries. When she found none, she smiled in relief and pulled his face down so their lips could meet. His arms immediately snaked around her waist. And he was glad her only reaction was a soft sound of contentment, not tensing or vanishing in his hold. It took around eight years and a lot of mutual support to achieve this level of intimacy. But he was glad they never gave up and worked together to get accustomed to one another's touch.

The contact overwhelmed him everytime, in a good way of course. It was exhilarating to be able to brush his lips against hers. A common gesture for most couples but a very big accomplishment for them. Just like everything else.

Everytime they shed a piece of their armor, touched longer, touched more, they counted it as a new milestone. He was thankful to their patience and to whichever of Inej's saints had blessed them for their persistent efforts.

The kiss deepened with every passing moment, all those months of separation provoking their dormant desires. But as soon as his tongue slid past her mouth, he felt a twinge of pain in his abdomen and broke away. "Fuck! What the hell, Wraith!?"

In trailing her hands along his torso, she had accidentally discovered the cut wound on the left side of his lower abdomen. She glared down at the small dot of blood staining his clothes. "You have absolutely no sense of self-preservation!"

He laughed at the furrow of her brows as she pushed him back until he was seated in a chair. "Takes one to know one."

He heard her huff before she disappeared inside the bathroom and returned seconds later with a roll of bandage, cotton swabs, and a disinfectant.

The blade of the knife had torn past both his vest and shirt but fortunately, barely grazed his skin. The cut wasn't deep or life-threatening, only seeping slow trickles of blood. However, that didn't stop his fiercely gentle partner from worrying. She began undoing the buttons on his vest and in the heat of the moment, he joked. "Someone is eager."

This time she glared at him directly and resumed her task. She was cautious in shrugging off the vest. Even more whilst removing his sweaty shirt.

As soon as the disinfectant-soaked cotton pad grazed his wound, he pressed his lips into a thin line. "Care to explain why I wasn't informed of your arrival?" He gritted out through the light haze of pain. He wasn't mad. But had he known, he would've cleared his schedule for her. Denied that parlay altogether and avoided being injured.

Her hands hesitated in cleaning the blood. "I wanted to surprise you."

Now his brows quirked.

"And was this part of the surprise?" He stared at the thin slip of nightdress snug on the curves of her beautiful body. His voice lowered an octave. "You put this on for me?"

She chewed on her bottom lip, a small action he had noticed her doing when in contemplation. "My intention was to doll-up for the King of the Barrel."

He shook his head, tugging on the hem of her dress. "Seems to me the Queen of the Seas was intent on arousing me with her alluring silks."

She punched his shoulder lightly. "You're bruised and bleeding and this is what you think?"

"Inej," He spoke earnestly, his ardent gaze focused on her as she continued bandaging him, "I always think about you."

"Aside from when I'm out there making money." He added as an afterthought.

She giggled.

He waited until she was done tying the last knot of the bandage to stand up. His fingers disappeared beneath her dress, glided tenderly over the flesh of her thighs in the moment he lifted her up. Her legs naturally came to wrap around his waist and she looked at him. "Kaz?"

He responded with a soft, lingering kiss before pulling back, his breath fanning her lips. "Still in the mood to surprise me?"

She nodded, her eyes averted shyly for once as he carried her towards the shower.

#kanej #kanej week 2021 #kanej fanfiction #kaz brekker #inej ghafa #six of crows #day 5 #love #domesticity

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fabledoath · 2 years ago

Text

It's good they took some time to get there, because Ashe had to not only go around the street to reach the other end of the ally, he had to do so in that outfit that was way too big for him. It would've taken too long to take them it off, plus, he would then have to get rid of them somehow, but he didn't want to just toss them out in the streets! They'd get dirty. He'd rather hand them off to someone who needs it, later. So, for now, it'd remain on.

Meanwhile...

"L-LIKE HELL I WILL!"

This faker very much intended to resist arrest, as most criminals do. She rattled the gate helplessly first, but she then understood there was only one way she could escape.

Up.

“Corrin” rolls 1d20: [11]

Quickly, the impostor reached up and pulled herself up on the fence while Sakura was still far enough away that she'd barely make it far up enough to elude the princess. Or so she hoped. Once she had one leg on the other side, she turned back towards Sakura, attempting to mock her.

"So long, sucker! I'm outta-"

As she spoke, she turned towards the other side of the gate, where she would have to land. Except...

Ashe rolls 1d20: [20] CRIT!

There was somebody else there now. A person who wasn't there just moments ago. One they would both recognize as the vagrant form before - one Sakura would recognize as Ashe, now brandishing his bow too, aiming up at the impostor who was up on the gate. He spoke up.

"You can't escape! Please, make it easy for yourself and stop resisting!"

As impressive as his timing was, he was panting. He had gone up the fence elsewhere himself, that's how he even managed to get inside the lot. But even after that effort, his aim didn't waver.

The plan wasn’t going exactly as she thought of it: the suspicion in the fake Corrin’s eyes was growing wider and the anxiousness in Sakura’s heart was fastening as well… tis, until a familiar figure approached the fake princess, a small and young mendicant all covered in dust and dirt, his eyes rapidly exchanged a glance with Sakura’s as he then stopped in front of the other girl, asking for some food.

Wait, can be…?

The doubt was legitimate, but seeing Ashe nowhere around, she could easily imagined he was doing his job into getting that fake princess in the trap –and that actually worked! As he begged her for food, he got some dirt on his hands to make the fake princess even more hesitant on her actions, until she eventually turned towards Sakura and agreed on going in the alley behind them.

“Wait, let me reassure his poor soul, Sis” she chirped at her, turning towards Ashe and clasping his hands together, quietly, very quietly whispering to his ears “I’ll get her trapped in the alley, come quick after we enter” and she then gave a radiant smile as she drew back and returned to her ‘sister’, accompanying her in the alley.

Few moments passed and the more they walked, the more nothing could be seen around that area, until they reached a dead end with a sparkling gate, probably the entrance of some house or forgotten mansion in this city. The other girl walked till the gate, hands touching the cold metallic bars and understanding the real facts, while Sakura remained a bit far away from it, covering any possible way of escaping.

“Wait… there are no stalls here…” the fake Corrin blurted, as she turned towards Sakura.

“Indeed, Sister” the pink-haired girl simply stated, still facing the gate, “Like, there is no Corrin here as well, am I right?” and she turned to stare at her, observing a dread expression as the other girl probably realized the situation she got into. “You can’t escape now, please, tell me who you really are and what do you want from my sister!”

#ic #thread: royal matters #gentlenekomata #GET THEIR ASS

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mooniefics · 4 years ago

Text

— a life in your shape

pairing : jean kirschtein / reader

word count : 2.5k

tags : unrequited love, pining, near death experience, confession of love, hurt no comfort lol

warnings : canon-typical violence, descriptions of injury to the reader

summary : you've always wanted it, always pictured it, always ached for it. you loved when jean looked you way. all you'd ever wanted was a life with him, not just a life in his shape.

— originally posted 1 / 22 / 21 on ao3 —

the mess hall was buzzing with life, rowdy with the chatter of dozens of cadets seated at long tables and speaking through swallows of their food. glasses were lifted and set down, bowls and plates clinking, utensils scraping sharply over various surfaces, nearly so loud that you could barely hear yourself think. but it all seemed to come to an abrupt silence when you settled your eyes back on him, taking in his formerly pale complexion now bronzy and sun-kissed from your hours of training, the annoyed yet playful glances he shot to connie and sasha as he worked through his soup and bread, full lips forming words that you couldn’t quite focus.

you were almost embarrassed of how smitten you were with jean, but in your mind, you couldn't understand how anyone wouldn't be taken with him. his thin frame had filled out with lean muscle in the year and a half that you'd been training together in the 104th corp, somehow managing to grow even taller than he already was on that first day, still so spirited with his persistence to be among the best of this class, a lively spark that never seemed to dampen gleaming behind his eyes.

"oh god, this again, jean?" you heard connie bemoan exaggeratedly, pulling you from the trance that you were surprised the other three at the table hadn't taken notice of.

jean was almost pouting now, and you would've found it so endearing had it not been the next words to spill from his mouth, indignant and full of tenacity. "don't be an ass, i've been trying to figure out a good excuse to sit with her for days now."

you followed his gaze despite knowing exactly who you'd find his eyes locked on, and forced yourself not to frown when you were met with the sight of mikasa just a few tables away.

"she's out of your league, man. not to mention having a thing for jaeger already, and not to mention that jaeger wouldn't hesitate to hand your ass to you again if you pissed him off like you always do. cut it out."

"connie, that's mean!" sasha feigned offense on jean's behalf, most likely for the sake of goading the reply that came as a distraction to snatch the remainder of bread from his plate.

"i'm just being honest with him here. he's asking for advice, so i gave him some. jean always talks about being realist and yet he— hey is that my food?!"

you turned away just as connie was lunging himself across the table, hearing the sounds of his fruitless efforts to tear the loaf from the girl's mouth, propping yourself up on your elbows and allowing your head to fall into your hands with a heavy sigh.

"what do you think?" in an instant, jean's eyes were on you, amber irises looking so intently at you that you could already feel a bothersome heat flushing your face. but registering his question sobered you, and stealing a glance at the beautiful dark-haired girl seated somewhere to your left was all in took to snuff out the light flutter in your chest.

"i don't know, jean. i think connie's kind of right about the whole eren thing." you were honest with him on a surface level, but it still didn't feel good to see him frown when you told him something he obviously didn't want to hear. you tried to remedy it by offering something more introspective—something a bit more true to your heart. "what i mean is that.. i think you're selling yourself short. mikasa obviously has her sights set elsewhere at the moment, and i just think you deserve someone who can bring the same sort of.." you struggled with your words for a moment, how could you not when he was leaning forward like that, listening so intently to you and you alone. "the same sort of passion. someone who can reciprocate." someone like me. but you bit those foolish words back.

"you understand, don't you?" he implored, looking past the bickering mess that sasha and connie had devolved to and gazing with such longing in the other girl's direction, "i mean.. i've never seen anyone like her, no one as beautiful.." each word gouged at your heart, a cold, empty sensation that left your chest feeling painfully hollow. "i know you're a girl, but you can see it too, right?"

you could see it, you were painfully aware of how you could never match up to her unfamiliar yet alluring features, that graceful, slender frame that could somehow soar through the air with ease and still thrown you down onto your back so hard it would knock the wind out of you, introversion that gave off such a charming air of mystery to her admirers.

"yeah," you mumbled back, ignoring how a huffing connie fell heavily back into his seat beside jean, defeated, sasha happily gulping down her unfairly earned chunk of bread, only taking notice of how jean was too fixated on mikasa to pay your dismay any mind, "i see it alright."

─── · 。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

the air was thick with an unrelenting heat, stinking of steam and coppery with fresh blood, your vision fading in and out. your head was ringing with a deafening, high pitched peal and such an unbearable, crippling pain. you could feel your boots dragging across the hot dry dirt as something tugged you back by the collar of your shirt, and the terror of a titan with its misshaped limbs and mouth hauling you to your demise made you thrash aimlessly, screams for help spilling out as a disjointed groan of pain. and though it almost sounded as if you were underwater, sinking further and further beneath the lapping waves of your impending unconscious, you heard it, muffled, desperate, thick with tears, your name spilling from his lips.

and suddenly you remembered, you remembered the kidnapping and the unfaithful comrades and the mission to save humanity's last hope, your former friend now an almost unrecognizable abomination with ymir, bertholdt, and eren sitting atop his shoulders, clasped in his monstrous hands, that had now resorted to flinging titans in his primal desperation for escape. and as you blinked away the spots blacking out your vision, head lolling uselessly to the side, you could see your horse, half crushed in a puddle of red on the yellow grass, and realized that the warmth streaming down the side of your face is your own blood.

"jean..?" you mumbled, uselessly, barely coherent, but the near sob of relief from behind you is like an anchor back to reality.

you could see his calves on either side of you, feet kicking up clouds of dust as he pushed you both back, further from the fray and carnage, as far as he could muster. one of your blade scabbards was missing, you could feel that the clip on your gas tank had snapped off in your spectacular fall caused by the titan that was flung down in your path, irreparable damage most likely made to the fine mechanisms within the housing of your gear. you felt utterly hopeless, watching as the shade of a tree just barely shielded you from the blazing light of the sinking sun, hearing jean's gasping pants from behind you, feeling how rapidly his chest was rising and falling against the back of your head as you slumped into his body, leaden limbs weighing you down uselessly.

"jean." you wheezed, trying desperately to crane your heavy head back to meet his eyes one last time, eyes that no longer harbored the naive passion of youth but still gleamed so radiantly, "leave me.. here. you're g'nna— gonna die.. if you stay..."

you could feel his violent trembles now, feel him rip his green cloak from his shoulder to press against the throbbing wound on your head. "no. i-i'm staying. i n-n-need," he was scared, you knew he was terrified of allowing what happened to marco to happen to you, or sasha, or connie, or anybody, even if the boy's death was nowhere near his fault, "i need to s-save you."

but you could also feel something else—feel it coming—the terrible, earth trembling footfalls of a titan making a shambling, uncoordinated advance to you and the scent of your blood. and suddenly jean was screaming, a sound so raw and petrified that you couldn't help but cry yourself at the sound of it. he laid you down on the ground, bunched cloak pillowing your bleeding skull, unable to push himself to his feet but still drawing his last blade to swing at the thing coming to kill you both, covering your battered body with his own.

and in that moment, you hated yourself. though your head was swimming and your lucidity was waning, you knew that you would both die there, under the baking sun and in the jaws of a titan, and it would be your fault. every regret that you'd ever harbored flooded your mind: not hugging your mother long enough when you still had the chance, not drinking that liquor when squad leader hange had offered it to you, and, most of all, never having the bravery to be honest with jean.

and you mourned all that lost time in those final moments, every late night you'd spent as trainees under the stars when you and your friends would sneak out of the dormitories to talk at some ungodly hour, every shared meal where you didn't speak nearly enough to him, every second of the crushing embraces you'd offered each other when the thought of your fallen friends caught up to you and proved to be far too much to handle on your own. how could you have done so much yet so little with your life?

and just as the titan was stumbling upon you, jean's scream of terror dampening out into a faithless cry, the thing was gone, galloping away to join a newly assembled horde descending upon one single point on the plain. but somehow, you felt no relief, not as you reached out a weak, trembled hand to grasp the blood and dirt streaked fabric of his shirt.

and as he turned to you, eyes still wide and body shaking with horror, thrumming with the adrenaline of near-death, you whispered, hoarse and tired as your grasp on the world slipped away. "i love you, jean. i love you."

your eyes fell shut, the involuntary spiral down further and further into the deep waters of unconsciousness pulling you in deeper and deeper by the second. you were grateful that you at least got to say something meaningful as your last words.

─── · 。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

there was a bright light, delicate, billowing fabric flouncing about in your bleary gaze as your eyes barely opened, something wrapped tight around your head, not making the pressure of the pounding headache any better. you couldn't fight the groan that even the small movement of turning onto your back caused, but you tried to force your lids open just an inch more at the sound of a gasp coming from somewhere in the room.

there were fast footsteps, a few shouts of "sasha, no!" and then a crushing weight on your chest, squeezing around you, pulling you up in bed as a tearful sob of your name came from a comfortingly familiar voice.

"sasha. please. h-hurts." you barely managed to croak out, feeling yourself been torn free—or rather, her torn away—as connie yelled.

"get off them, you moron, they're fucking injured!!"

"i'm s-s-sorry!" she wailed, allowing herself to be dragged to the door by the disgruntled boy, "i'm j-just so happy you're s-s-still alive!!!"

"and i am too, but that doesn't mean i'm gonna go throw myself on top of them while they're in the hospital!"

their bickering was almost comforting in a way, allowing the strain in your chest from sasha's hug to ease as you watched them elbow each other in the sides on their way out of the room to take their loudness out into the hall, blowing raspberries and struggling to not laugh through their feigned anger. and finally your gaze was allowed to wander over to the furthest wall from your bed, and you saw jean, staring down at his shoes, brow furrowed and lip bitten. and he seemed almost startled to find yourself in his gaze, feet slowly taking him to your side.

"i owe you my life, you know?" you said as he settled himself on the edge of the mattress, still not meeting your gaze.

"you don't owe me anything. you shouldn't feel in debt to me."

"but i do," you risked to settle your hand over his, finally drawing his worried, amber eyes onto yours, and you could feel your heart beginning to pick up, the butterflies that you had always forced to settle with a pessimistic thought to squash your optimism light in your chest, "i meant what i said before i passed out in the field. i always have."

and for just a moment, you thought that this was finally it, that you would no longer have to languish over wasted time and wasted words, fingers just barely curling around his warm palm. then, a knock at the door, light and delicate before the handle turned, pushing open to reveal mikasa.

and you caught every small movement of jean's features, the way his eyes sparked with a familiar light, the sudden, faint flush of color across his slender face, lips parting and just barely perking up at the ends. an endless, unwavering adoration.

"eren is awake, if you'd like to talk to him." that was all she had peeked in to say, but jean was still gazing at the door for a moment too long after she'd left.

"u-um.. if you don't mind—"

"go ahead." you told him, gently, pulling your hand away, retreating as far as your body could into the mattress, under the covers, turning your gaze away.

and though he'd slowly, almost nervously exited your room, you could hear the clear pick-up in his pace as soon as he'd shut the door behind him and exited into the hall, probably rushing to try and catch mikasa for a moment alone in the hallway before he had to share her attention with everyone else.

and it hurt, like a blade buried between your ribs, being jerked and twisted with every memory of his affinity, the one that was never directed at you despite how you craved it. and you'd realized that you had melded a life in his shape, a life where you were always just a few steps too far behind, hand outstretched, reaching for him as you hurried to grasp at any minuscule opportunity to be with him, speak to him, hear his laugh and see his near blinding smiles that never seemed to last long enough to you.

but, perhaps one day, someday farther into the future. and if not then, maybe in another life.

#jean kirstein #jean kirschtein x you #jean kirstein x you #jean kirstein x reader #jean kirschtein x reader #jean kirschtein angst #jean kirstein angst #snk x reader #snk x you #aot x reader #aot x you #shingeki no kyoujin x reader #shingeki no kyojin fanfiction

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tamagochiie · 4 years ago

Text

holding hands with haikyuu boys (part one)

genre: fluffy oneshots

characters: yamaguchi tadashi, tsukishima kei, & sugawara koushi

a/n: i wrote this out of pure neediness and desperation. please someone get me a boyfriend, i'm dying for some cuteness.

warning: your heart about to bURST (1/2 joke)

—yamaguchi tadashi

he has naturally clammy hands and it embarrasses him. so, when you hold his hand for the first time, you're the one who initiates it. he'll try to (literally) slip away from your grasp, but you'll only tighten your grip.

he'll apologize the whole time you two hold hands.

since then, he'll always make sure to keep his hands a little on the less clammy side. he'll wash his hands, and even carry around alcohol to rub on his hands before he gets to hold yours.

The early morning air is crisp and as clear as the sky. The flowers scattered around the neighborhood are finally at full bloom, soaking up the sunlight and basking in their soil damped by last night's rain.

Its a perfect day.

Well, it would've been almost perfect if your boyfriend had been walking beside you, holding your hand rather than pacing ahead of you.

You pout, looking down to the palm of your hand, realizing it had yet to feel the warm touch of Yamaguchi's. And the more you think about it, it only registers now that he hadn't made any attempts to hold your hand. Not even a mere, gentle brush against it.

Nearly six months since you became a pair, but not the slightest bit of effort to hold your hand. You can't help but let it urk you; and the longer you hold onto the thought, the less effort you give in to holding your tongue.

"Hey, erm, Yamaguchi?" He hums in response, his head lulling side to side as if his thoughts are elsewhere. He doesn't have to be facing you to know he's got that dopey smile plastered on his face, enjoying the spring air. "Why haven't you held my hand yet?"

The tension in Yamaguchi's shoulders are visibly seen from where you stand. The air between the two of you grows thick the longer you stay in the silence, and even you begin to feel tense.

Spinning on the balls of his feet reveals Yamaguchi with his cheeks beet red, flustered enough to be stuttering. "Oh, uhm—Well, you—you see..."

You furrow your brows, tilting you head to the side. You can't help but smile as you watch him turn into a string of short breaths and unfinished sentences.

"C'mon, Yams." You encourage him, and the sight of your smile eases Yamaguchi enough to spit it out.

"I-I have sweaty hands!" He admits, his eyes peel away from you and move to the ground.

Confusion etched in your face, your lips slightly part yet not a single sound escapes you. "What...?"

"My hands are naturally sweaty!" Yamaguchi stuffs his hands into the pockets of his jacket, growing self conscious. "W-When you hold hands, it's supposed to be romantic, right? What's romantic about holding hands with someone that sweats more than they can talk?"

"Pfft—"

"You're being MEAN!"

"I'm sorry!" You apologize, unable to completely hold back your laugh. "But that's so cute! Oh, c'mon even you have to admit that it's a little cute!"

"It's not cute!" He argues, glowing a bright red. "I shared something deeply embarrassing!" He whines your name like a child, only making you laugh even more.

"Oh, c'mere, would you?" You motion him over and though it takes him a while, he eventually does. He treads towards you like a puppy, watching carefully.

When he's close enough, you hold out your hand to him. His eyes widen and he twists away, "No."

"Give me your hand." You insist, jolting your hand.

"No!"

"Hold my hand, damn it!"

Yamaguchi flitches at the sudden raise of your voice. You expect him to shy further away from you—runaway even. But instead, after giving it some thought, he reluctantly inches towards you.

You observe the way Yamaguchi hesitantly slips his hand onto yours. His eyes glinting in fear, but the moment his skin comes to contact with your own, you feel him melt into the palm of your hand almost immediately.

You do notice the subtle sweatiness of the palm of his hand, but you don't mind it. You completely ignore it when Yamaguchi gathers the right amount of courage to weave his fingers in between yours.

There's a tickling feeling rising from you chest, your bottom lip caught between your teeth. All the air you've taken in goes straight to your head.

Is this what floating feels like?

You think about holding your breath, hoping that it'll somehow stop time and keep you both here. But the moment ends when you feel Yamaguchi try to slip away.

"No!" You shout, glaring at him. "Don't you dare! I'm enjoying this!"

—tsukishima kei

he'll always want to hold your hand, but his inability to let go of his pride, even if momentarily, gets the way of him initiating it.

he'll drop hints; brushing his hand against yours every now and then, sometimes looking at the palm of his hand and asks you if you think his hands are too big, and when he's desperate enough, he'll pout around you until you catch what he wants.

tsukki isn't much of a fan of cold weather, but ever since he started dating you, he began to like. but it's only because it was an opening for him to naturally hold your hand whenever he could.

Though you and Tsukki sat in the library, eyes buried deep into your own books, you were very much aware of what Tsukki had been doing, or at least trying to do for the last hour.

Every five minutes or so, you'd feel Tsukki graze his hand over yours. Whether it be him trying to reach over to other side of the table for something that wasn't there, or when he'd mindlessly try to shove his hand back into his jacket pocket, you saw right through him.

You smiled to yourself, You're clever, Tsukki, but not that clever.

You noticed him growing a little agitated, tapping his fingers against the side of his wooden chair. From the corner of your eye, you saw they way his glass tilted just a little bit when he crinkled his nose, and the sudden fall of his chest when he sigh in frustration as he shifted in his seat.

For someone who was usually so stoic and unbearably hard to read, it amused you how painfully transparent Tsukki could be when he wanted to hold your hand.

You gave it another few minutes and let him grow antsy. Eventually, you took a breather. The chair creaked beneath you as you slumped against the backrest.

You twisted your attention to Tsukki, reaching over to him and tapped the against the plastic of covering of his headphones.

Flinching in place, he turned his head to look at you and in a swift motion, slipped the headset. He looked at you with a crease between his brows and a frown painted across his lips, but you kept your amusement plastered across your face.

"What do you want?" He whispered, scowling at you because you probably interrupted him when the song he had been listening to had perfectly synced with the flow of the story.

You leaned in, making him blush. "If you want to hold my hand, just do it."

—sugawara koushi

the first time he holds your hand, it feels like you've slipped into a pair of perfectly fit mittens. there's a ease in your chest and you feel like the only hand you were ever meant to hold was suga's.

he isn't shy, but he doesn't want to make you feel uncomfortable either.

but when your sad or feeling overwhelmed, he'll hold your hand and trace little circles over your skin to help calm you down.

Suga gently tilted your head onto his shoulder as you sat there swept away by the river of the emotions you had carefully boxed shut and kept hidden in a corner.

You had spent the beginning of the week imagining the storm that awaited was still too far off to touch you. But before you knew it, it was the middle of the week and it had drawn closer. So, as an attempt to ease yourself, you had thought of yourself as a buoy, believing you could withstand the harsh winds of your parents' constant nagging and judgement, and the violent waves of tests and quizzes crashing into you all at once.

But you couldn't.

By the end of the week, the tides had finally rolled closer to home, and in one breath, you had been dragged off the shore and thrown into the heart of the sea.

But just when you thought you were too far gone, there stood your lighthouse at the very center of it all, Sugawara Koushi. Eyes full of love and hope as it searched for you, pulling you out of the water the moment he found you.

He hummed a soft tune in your ear as you cried the rest of your pent up frustration off your chest. He held your hand with both hands, massaging your palm as you caught your breaths.

Like steam, your sense of peace rose from the pit of your stomach all the way to your chest. You could finally breathe.

"Do you still wanna to talk about it?" He asked, bringing your hand up against his cheek.

You shooked your head, "I just want to stay like this a little while longer."

You felt the warmth of his skin in the palm of your hand. The weight that had settled onto your chest began to float off it when he tenderly kissed your hand.

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