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astravv · 1 year ago

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one of your girls || alhaitham x stripper! reader || multi-part

warning(s) : smutty fic, reader is a stripper

pairing(s) : alhaitham x female! reader

summary : modern au story. alhaitham owns a strip club where almost all of his girls have a thing for him. it’s no wonder since he’s so handsome. his club catches your eye. easy money, and dancing. something you are good at. a week into the job, you start to notice that alhaitham has been keeping an eye on you. maybe he’s taken a liking to you?

a/n : this idea came to me while I was listening to

the weeknd’s song “one of the girls” so if ur the type to listen to music while reading fics, there’s a good song to listen to for this fic.

—

you strut around the pole, swinging yourself around for all the men to see. you were your favorite pair of lingerie tonight. after all, it was a special night. it’s your birthday. some people wonder why you would work on your birthday, but you like to think that you’re treating yourself with all the stacked up cash drunk men like to throw at you.

after the song is over, you quickly collect your cash and continue to the back of the stage, giving a small smile to the next dancer coming on stage.

she was one of the more snarky girls. she was stuck up and always has an attitude. she’s also a blonde with a damn good body, so of course the men love her, and she knows that. she always makes you and the other dancers feel bad about how much you make when you see her fat wad of cash she brings off of stage every night. boss seems fond of her too. she brings him good business, after all.

you up to your assigned vanity and locker to lock up the cash you received for the night.

“going home soon, newbie?” one of the brunette girls asks.

“yeah actually, i better be getting home.” you shoot her a small, soft smile. she nods and goes back to cleaning up her makeup.

“wish you could’ve stayed longer, i just got here.” the brunette sighs, setting down her powder brush she had been using to fix her makeup up.

“i know, tonight is my birthday and i just want to do something special tonight.” you reply, grabbing your normal clothes out of the locker.

“well happy birthday, newbie.” she exclaims.

“thanks.” your voice trails off. you quickly get into your comfy clothes and start turning your vanity off and tidying up your area so you can leave. you then place all the cash you had made in your purse, and head out the back entrance. alhaitham always said to all the girls to leave out the back entrance because he didn’t want random intoxicated men bothering us and following us home. no one was allowed behind the office buildings, and even if they came back there, we had really good cameras.

before you walk out the door, you hear a familiar voice call out for you. you turn around to see alhaitham leaning out of his office door, urging you to come in.

you nod your head and follow your boss into his office. he pats the chair in front of his desk, signaling for you to sit down. you start to worry if you’ve done something to upset him, but nothing comes to mind. you’ve been on time to work, left on time, and have done good out on stage, at least you think so.

he sits down on the chair at his desk, looking into your eyes. you awkwardly sit yourself down in the chair and dust your pants off, waiting for him to speak.

“so y/n. i’ve taken a liking to you.” alhaitham begins, smiling softly. you’ve rarely ever seen the boss smile. granted, you haven’t been here for long, but still. nothing but a blank stare ever comes from him. “customers seem to like you too, they’re constantly asking when you’ll be out next.”

you anxiously nod.

“don’t tell the other girls, but i think you’re better than all of them. you’re gorgeous, have a nice body, beautiful eyes.” he tells you. “now i am just blabbering on, but it’s true. you are one of the prettiest girls i’ve ever laid my eyes on.”

alhaitham gets up from his chair and walks over to you, staring into your eyes the whole way. he reaches his hand up to your chin and pushes your face up, so he can get a better look at you.

“so pretty.” he mumbles.

“alhaitham, i-“ your voice trails off. he lets go of your face and smiles softly again.

“what’s wrong, babydoll?” he whispers.

“isn’t this unfair to the other girls?” you question, quickly standing up from the chair.

“it’s not like they’re competing for my love. they’re all here to make money. if they wanted my love they’d make more direct advances like that one allie girl.” he replies. “she’s obsessed with me. i don’t feel the same about her. she’s just like any ordinary girl. boring.”

“yeah, i guess.” you murmur under your breath.

alhaitham grabs your arm and pulls you close, his lips so close to yours. you both join into a soft, yet passionate kiss. your hand trails up his arm and squeezes it.

alhaitham moves back from the kiss, still staring longingly into your eyes. he kisses your neck, biting at the soft flesh, making little soft moans escape through your lips. your hand grips onto his arm harder, digging your nails through his shirt.

then there’s a knock on the door. alhaitham lifts his head up and looks towards the door.

“who is it?” he calls out.

“allie.” a girl’s voice responds. “i need to talk about my schedule.”

you roll your eyes, then look at alhaitham who also looks very annoyed. he pulls himself away from your grasp and goes to open the door. you walk behind him, then quickly push yourself through the doorway, ignoring allie’s dirty looks.

you piece yourself together and push the back door open so you can head out to your car.

once you get to your car, you immediately throw yourself in and start collecting your thoughts. the thought of alhaitham’s lips on your neck was enough to drive you insane, especially the whole drive home. you almost completely forgot that it was your birthday, but maybe that’s the reason why he was acting so weird towards you. maybe it was a special birthday thing?

the thought of it just being a birthday thing upset you. you didn’t want this crazy incident to be a one time thing. you needed more of alhaitham’s touch.

once you got into the parking garage of your apartment, you spot a familiar face. it was a taller man, he was handsome, but clearly looked intoxicated. you realized he was one of the men at the club who was staring so closely at you.

you bit your cheek, hoping that it was just some random coincidence that he lives in the same apartment complex as you. but you always had an open mindset to creepy men. especially with the job you have.

the man presses the elevator button to go up. he waits patiently and then enters the elevator once it gets to the garage level floor. he heads up, and all your worries seem to be gone.

you continue on, pressing the elevator button to go up too.

#alhaitham smut #alhaitham #genshin impact #genshin #genshin smut #x reader #genshin x reader #alhaitham x reader #al haitham

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skeleton-mischief · 5 months ago

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Looking forward to the dresses!! Do you have any specific outfits in mind for their normal everyday wear?

Oh I meant looking on Tumblr since I can't draw very well😭 BUT!! FEAR NOT!!!

I do have headcanons to more everyday outfits and aesthetics!!

Enjoy below! I decided to do the main set of brothers and Dust too! Maybe even a special set of guest since I think of them from time to time,,,

Vanilla: He likes clothing with a lot of layers, more bagginess, and clothes that prioritize comfort. He's not very stylish but he's gotten a hold of some clothes that help him get more in touch with what's "fashionable." He's not someone who likes a tight fit, usually directed towards casual wear, and he's often seen wearing shades of blue, grey, or white

Cyperus: The more expressive the style, the better. He's not one to shy away from color, and he prefers really anything he finds cool. He can be seen with his red scarf of course, and with that he's given a lot to work with! Sure, it can be far from fancy, but he likes it whether it's super simple or super "everywhere!" As long as he likes it, it's perfect for his artsy and sometimes classic fashion tastes

Powder: He has a bit of style thanks to being older, meaning that he's had time to figure out his style and being able to have others in the house help him with fashion. He likes a good business casual wardrobe, something that he can look good in and feel good in. Sporty street wear is also a style he loves and he'll often be seen wearing blues, blacks, white, and even sometimes orange since it reminds him of his brother

Stretch: He likes casual street wear that has layers and brighter colors. Hes expressive with androgynous 70's and 90's fashion, and anything with oranges or yellows. He likes comfort, but he's a little more aware of his tastes and he's not afraid to get dressed up as long as it's not a super tight fit.

Red: Any alt style fits him best since I think styles like emo, punk, or grunge all suit him. Overall it depends on the day and style of clothing he's willing to put on! Most of the time, he's too lazy, so grunge is an expressive style that he doesn't have to be uncomfortable in! Layers are a definite comfort and he can vary from wearing reds, blacks, and even purple

Pitch: He's one of the most style conscious skeletons in the household, so you'll see him sometimes fluctuate between styles. It's always something elegant or more straight and defined. Reds are his favorite to dress up in, but he's open to anything with darker colors or cooler themes. Formal wear and classic wear is his favorite exploration, but he can be coaxed to wear something bold and different if he likes it.

Saint: He's always about comfort, simplicity, and the occasional color that differs from bright and bold. He will go for casual fits, grunge occasionally, or vintage style clothes he finds at the thrift store. He's not hard to please since a good shirt and pair of pants work too, and he will usually add layers for comfort and extra protection. He will usually also wear long sleeves, but he just doesn't pay too much attention about how it's a habit for him

Lunar: He really likes vintage style clothing and like Cyperus, he also enjoys artsy styles that help with forms of expression. He's cheap and good at finding clothes at thrift stores, always willing to sew it up or combine comfort with style. Androgynous clothing in shades of pretty reds, browns, and whites are also something he's fond of as long as it can fit with his scarf

Carmine: Lets talk about business styles and how he can range from casual to form fitting. He likes it sleek, fashionable, humble, yet occasionally bold. He's just as fashion conscious about his looks in the same way Pitch is, which means the two share similar styles. Unlike Pitch, however, he wears more gold and his clothes usually are paired with little to no accessories in comparison. He's a skeleton all about appearance, and that means he has to always either fit right in or stand out as someone who's more collected and confident

Rus: Androgyny to him is what best defines him other than grunge or biker clothing. He's not afraid to stand out for wearing tears, skirts, strapped tops, etc. He really loves exploring clothes that are prominently orange and red, but he's not against the occasional purple. He likes it layered, tight, loose, simple, complex, etc as long as it's not too bright and overstimulating. He wants to look cool, and he will accomplish that whether that means going thrift shopping for clothes or getting Carmine to indulge him with extra cash he can work to earn later

Razz: He will always wear more business, formal clothes with a lot of accessories. He wears golds, blacks, purples, and he really likes that he's able to spend good money on deals that leave his wardrobe fancy. He's also willing to put on more of a pop to his fashion unlike Cash, even if that means drawing in unwanted attention. He doesn't mind though, he will always flex his attire when he can tell someone is just staring at him which causes his ego to grow and makes him preen at the attention

Cash: Casual street wear is his every day style but he's not afraid to admit how simple he likes something or how he's able to go in public without causing too many eyes on him. Unlike Rus, he leans less on the idea of wearing skirts often and he also has more purples, greens, and oranges in his style. Really, 90's style also influences him, especially since he can find good deals at thrift stores this way. He picks clothes that he knows will draw a bit more attention than the average monsters, but he overall likes what he likes and if that also means wearing meme shirts then so be it

Wine: Fancy business, formal, military, or academic style clothing is where hes at his best. He makes sure to always be dressed in fancy attire that's tight, direct, and perfectly expensive enough to let him flex since he has so much money dedicated just for clothes. He rarely wears the same thing twice and he's sure as hell not going to change that. He was the one to coax Vanilla to actually dress up more since the two often exchanged deals on letting him dress Vanilla up in exchange to having a day dedicated to trying new things

Coffee: Layers of comfortable fabric is what he likes to wear a lot since he's rarely ever willing to change out of his favorite hoodie. However, Wine loves to dress him in academic clothing or elegant types of formal wear. He wears the most browns on his outfits in the house to feel less overstimulated in too, unless the occasional orange or yellow sparks his interest. Interestingly, he also tends to wear the most minimalist style of clothing and he chose this on purpose to let Wine piece together outfits that don't feel overwhelming to him with all their patterns, textures, etc

Dust: He for a long time refused to change his hoodie or scarf out until way later. He still wears his scarf, but he's more willing to wear more casual, minimalist clothing with more dulled colors or grunge since Red got him to grow into liking the style. He finds ways to hide his face still but I already headcanon that his face becomes more and more visible as time moves on so outfits with hats are a pleasant thing for him that can also feed into that headcanon. He doesn't pick specific styles or colors unlike some of the others, but hes okay with that. As long as he can dress up well and hide most of his face, shit you could even get him to dress in formal wear if you're able to find a way to keep the scarf

Cupid: Tight fitting clothes in glamorous, elegant outfits is what he lives for. He's the most style conscious person and he will always dress to impress. The only time he's not wearing something that pops with color and fancy, sleek fashion is when he's having an off day or if he needs new clothes since he rarely wears the exact same outfit twice. He loves accessories and he will definitely aim for pink colors

Desi: Desi likes elegant, romantic, and more feminine outfits overall that pop with pinks, cream, and wealth. He isn't afraid to wear comfy clothing, but he always needs to look good even when relaxing in his opinion. He has accessories of his own, and he likes any clothes that have a cute look to them. He won't go thrift shopping, but he's been given some of his favorite clothes or accessories from Lunar since he sometimes will receive such gifts from there. Sure it's not his taste to go there, but Lunar was considerate enough and that makes Desi teary eyed to begin with so he'll try to wear those gifts often

#undertale au #alternate universe #headcanon #vanilla serrif #cyperus serrif #powder serrif #stretch serrif #red serrif #pitch serrif #saint serrif #lunar serrif #dust serrif #cupid serrif #desi serrif

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princessmacedon · 6 months ago

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[ Sweet Bun Trio ] - A selection of traditional Faerghus pastries, all small enough to be eaten in one delicious bite! The first bun is filled with sweet cream and topped with icing and a candied cherry. The second is a sweet roll filled with almonds, pecans, and dried cranberries and glazed with honey. The third is a bun sliced in half, filled with almond paste and whipped cream, dusted with powdered sugar on top.

Vaguely, the idea had come to mind after some time spent at the ball—that around that time last year, Maria had found her way to him, primarily as the consequence of a brawl he’d found himself in.

There was no brawl this time (unless one wished to call his encounter with Michalis to be that sort of thing), but inspired by the threats of a certain redhead, the Moonstone drifted to the refreshments, then into the crowd, then to the side of one familiar in the mix of countless unknowns. Free hand takes a feather and places it in her hair such that it would mirror the one given to her brother (though perhaps more seen), and then, rather announcing himself—

“ Hello there, Maria. ” (An eye looks for Michalis before casting itself at the shorter girl.) His other hand (the one holding the platter) then emerges from behind his back, giving all three of the pastries to his target. With a smile typical of his expressions, he elaborates:

“ These are for you. ”

(pretend i detailed the buns it's presently an unreasonable hour for me haha)

Eventually even Maria relinquished her brother's cloak, sorely though she has missed him, with the hope that in spite of all the ways he has forgone his own happiness, he might find someone with the patience for all his thorns -- someone he can call a friend. Such bright hope and overwhelming trust would then, of course, never think to doubt the appearance of Sir Valter at her table.

For he is her friend, is he not? ...ah, well, perhaps not quite, but near enough to it from what she understands of his terms that she is happy nonetheless.

"Hello, Sir Valter!" A typical smile meets and makes an entirely expected grin, the weight of the little princess' full attention drawn to him with little more than a curious forward-lean. He has always been good to her, but she has never known him to be overly nor overtly generous. And with such a smile... that is a mischief-making smile if ever she's seen one.

That is, if she's reading him rightly. The want to understand is there at least, if not the ability. Soft fingertips touch the edge of the plate in even intervals, marveling at the gift of sweet buns (they always look so tasty!), and he has always been good to her.

"Mm... yummy!" Having taken a bite, she obscures her mouth with a delicate hand, the other setting the bun back on the tray. Following a moment's pause to chew and swallow, Maria turns her rosy-hued gaze back to Valter with the glittering, unspoken question of just what mischief she'd partaken in.

"Do you want some?" But she doesn't demand to know what it is -- doesn't foist any culpability on him, either, only turning the nearby bowl ever so slightly with the tip of a finger. "Oh! Or... do you even like sweets? I have pomegranate and mint candies too, if that's better." Maybe he was stingy with his answers, just like her favorite mockingbird? Her eyes squeeze shut in a fond little laugh. "Either way, thank y... huh?"

Crimson tresses sway with each shift of her head, a motion she is well familiar with, but in it there is something new. Maria blinks once, blinks twice, then raises a bun-sticky hand, brushing it with the back of her knuckle so as not to sully it. The familiar texture--

"Ah! You got me?" A peal of quiet giggles, falling like rain as she wrings her hands in her napkin, busying herself with fetching her own brooch and quite content to let Valter's lay where he'd left it. "Here, you can have mine, too!"

#toaball2024 #knighteclipsed #MANY DELIGHTS IN MY INBOX THIS DAY!!!#these pictures are looking real blurry in the preview :thinky: might need to reupload that #i wasn't sure if the feather was supposed to be something he did stealthily or not SHDFHSDFHG so i just kinda [WAVES HAND VAGUELY] yknow?#she has no idea they have the same brooch ASHSDFHSD

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museenkuss · 6 months ago

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A selection of perfume first impressions

(Tested yesterday, over the course of multiple hours at different shops)

Sunset Hour by Goldfield & Banks— It smells like what you’d expect a tan American or Australian influencer girl to smell like. Sweet and fruity in a way that makes you say “oh I love it:)” in the very first moment you smell it, but lacking depth or anything that makes it interesting going from there. Superficially pretty, in other words.

Giardino di Boboli by Roberto Ugolini — fresh and green, uplifting. It has that extremely sophisticated freshness that is also present in the Jardins line by Hermès. Not the citrus-dominant, cool type of refreshment(which I also love), but rather green and complex (as far as I could tell on paper). There is always something multidimensional about the jardins, too. I’d probably go for those, tbh, since 400€+ isn’t quite a reasonable expense for me, but Giardino di Boboli is LOVELY and I’m sure it’s wonderful in summer.

Rouge chaotique by Byredo — the shop assistant showed it to me as an alternative to B540 sans the headache (we talked about the headache inducing quality of that fragrance) and I definitely see how it’s very similar. A deep, vibrant mush of red berries with that scratchy-sweet note coming through later on. I’m glad she found an alternative to the scent she enjoys! It showed me that I’m just not fond of the scent, it’s not just that it gives me a headache (which this version, true to her word, didn’t).

Love don’t be shy by Killian — bubblegum. The tacky, pastel pink bubblegum of your childhood. Sadly, just as linear and overpowering to me. I could detect no layers, nothing that could justify the hype to me. Apart from overpowering sweetness. Maybe it develops on skin.

Sintra by Memo Paris — definitely very close to my beloved Classique Cabaret. Orange blossoms dusted in that powdery, white sugar that clings to marshmallows, which is a dream of a concept. Very sweet, but on paper at least it had a balance that was lacking from Love don’t be shy, most likely due to the prominent role orange blossoms played here (at least to my nose). It gave me the confidence to wear Cabaret since there IS the possibility of me getting a similar scent (for a lot more money) if I ever finish the bottle.

Babycat by YSL — very likeable. At first, it seemed to me very sharp, a very regal scent that demands attention and requires a woman of posture and strength (or a man who likes slightly sweet scents). Androgynous, to make it short, in the high fashion elegance way. However, it quickly dried down into a much more demure vanilla with spices — which explains why it’s so popular, I was a little surprised since it did smell very strong at first. The spicy vanilla is of course very lovely (as was the beginning). I looked it up and there are leather notes, which of course is the way right into my heart. Unsurprisingly, I loved it (even if the beginning was a little too suited up and I’m not sure it’d suit me). If I had unlimited funds, I’d most likely buy it without second thought.

Orchidee Vanille by Van Cleef & Arpels — I wanted to try it since it’s been said to be similar to Cuir d’Orient, but I like Cuir d’Orient better. That said, it’s definitely lovely. Again, vanilla, powder, some depth, I’m bound to love it. I’d have to try it on skin, but I think the leather in Cuir d’Orient gives it that kick that makes it so special to me. Still lovely. I’d try it on skin.

L’interdit Rouge by Givenchy — this was so lovely. Wow. I really got that juicy freshness of the blood orange at the start, mixed with the tuberose. Frankly, I was blown away and very surprised. On paper, this was absolutely lovely. And I actually thought it wouldn’t be too bad in summer? Summer nights, maybe? I would have to test it ok skin since it might become oppressive, but on paper I really loved it.

L’interdit by Givenchy — I tried it again after that L’IR success. Not a first try, but it’s been a while. It smells as I remember, but more delicate, transparent, lighter than the blood orange version, which in turn is a little more refreshing, fizzier. I think the rouge is a little more interesting with that fruity aspect, which elevates it from the lovely bed of white flowers and gives it a kick. However, it IS a lovely bed of white flowers. More youthful and playful than the rouge, imo, but of course also very heady-elegant. I enjoyed it. On the next day, I do get that synthetic/bubblegum(?) note people comment on from both paper strips. I’d definitely have to test it on skin, because that note can get annoying. But it was a really nice fragrance I now want to try on skin again.

Fragrances I tested in skin

Comète by Chanel — it’s definitely a Chanel take on powders and violets. I did get that fizzy aldehyde opening, but after that initial sparkling-cool trail of stardust, it was pure lotion. Pampered skin, elevated but relaxed. All throughout, that Chanel DNA was present, which made it feel familiar — like a friend was waiting just around the corner and you could smell wafts of her. I really enjoyed wearing it, it wasn’t oppressive but present. It lasted, too, keeping me wrapped up in the scent of luxurious, elevated lotion with that beloved Chanel DNA. I do like Chanel scents, so this was very lovely to me. And again, it wasn’t overwhelming. A gentle presence (like a star, you could say, watching over you from a distance…). I felt protected, wrapped in cashmere, pampered, elegant. Taken care of. I’m not sure I could spend 300€ on the experience, however.

Rolling in Love by Kilian — I remember enjoying it while it lasted, which was significantly shorter than Comète. I got that almond creaminess and the powder quality of violets, which I like. I’m not sure it tops the almond-creaminess of Hypnotic Poison, however.

#Flakon #I haven’t done a fragrance impression in a good while #but I wanted to put down my notes on these

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ospguenolelorho · 2 months ago

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John F. Seitz & Billy Wilder

Notes about the article 'A pair of Aces: John F. Seitz, ASC & Billy Wilder' originally published the March 2003 issue.

The article is an overview of some of the methods used by the two over the four movies they have collaborated on.

Cinematography must exist to tell the screen story, rather than to stand out as a separate artistic entity — Seitz

Symbolic compositions

Seeing their work, one element I gathered is to always pack the frame with every important information possible and have a maximum of images symbolic of the story.

One of their most famous images is the pool in 'Sunset Boulevard'. In the same frame, we can see Joe Gillis's face (the protagonist), he's drowned and the police and the press are already at the location — Symbolically, he's drowned in fame and scandal.

The shot was also achieved by the use of a mirror and not actually by putting the camera at the bottom of the pool — this shows that the camera doesn't have to actually be where the audience thinks it is and how a seemingly complicated shot can actually be made easier to shoot.

This shot from 'Double Indemnity' shows the whole dynamic going on visually, Walter (centre) is hiding Phylis (Left) from Keyes (On the left). Walter is at the crossroads between hiding with Phylis or coming into the light with Keyes. Dialogue, blocking and gestures guide the viewer's attention and save from using cutaways.

Visual interest is an opportunity for further storytelling and symbolism. In 'The Lost Weekend', places objects in the foreground such as crisscrossed bars or alcohol bottles. This visually conveys Birman's entrapment with alcohol.

Don't show what everyone already knows

Moreover, the character's state of mind is more important than action. Rather than showing the obvious, their camera highlights a character's state of mind or feeling.

For example, the Murder of Phylis's husband happens just on the edge of the frame. As the audience knows what is gonna happen and nothing unexpected happens, the camera doesn't linger on the murder itself. Instead, it focuses on Phylis's determination, using the passing streetlights for a surreal horror effect.

Similarly, in 'Five Graves to Cairo', danger and confusion are shown in one shot during a fight between a Nazi and an English soldier: 'the camera tilts down to stare at the round lamp while the men struggle offscreen in the dark. Two gunshots produce flashes of light at the edge of the frame, and we then follow the flashlight’s beam as a hand picks the light source up and reveals the dead Nazi on the floor.'

The camera doesn't showcase the choreography or specifics of the fight, just the darkness, chaos, claustrophobia and uncertainty occurring during the fight.

Textured Lighting

Another technique showcased was their lighting techniques, used to achieve a texture and rough look.

Heavy perspiration is used in 'Five Graves to Cairo' to texture the faces (this is quite reminiscent of what Sergio Leone would do later).

Lights are filtered through latticed windows, and slats in the roof to have textured shadows just about everywhere.

This technique is reused in double indemnity, using blinds to break up soft lights and dress the environment with shadows. The aim is to achieve a rough and dark effect.

Moreover, Seitz made a dust-blind effect with a powder of magnesium or aluminium that he blew in the air just before the camera rolled.

Wrap up

Billy Wilder was fond of using long takes (although not always noticeable to the audience) and therefore was more reliant on actors, blocking, set design and lighting to guide the viewer through the shot. This article made me understand a bit more what sort of thought process goes into designing a shot.

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ichorai · 3 years ago

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pearls and pastries ; j.jk

pairing ; pirate!jungkook x baker!reader (gender-neutral)

summary ; a crew of pirates have been pilfering your village for several weeks now and one particularly keen buccaneer has stopped by your bakery practically every visit; whether it be for the delectable pastries or for the sweet baker he's taken an interest to, jungkook couldn’t say. but there’s a catch - the baker doesn’t know that he’s a pirate.

themes ; fantasy, angst, fluff, pining, slight action, pirate au, baker au, medieval au

words ; 3.6k

warnings / includes ; descriptions of weaponry, stealing (from the rich), jungkook being a sad lovesick sap, pirate!bts, poetic sadness but when do i not do angst lmfao everything i touch turns into written sorrow </3

a/n ; written for the @ficscafe fic exchange event for @sunshinerainbowsbts !! i hope you like it <3 i'm definitely considering writing a part two to this :D

Jungkook wasn’t quite fond of parrots. Well, his mislike wasn’t necessarily directed towards the multi-hued rotund bird itself, but the fact that the wretched thing was squawking out a poor rendition of what Jungkook had announced earlier whilst clambering down the crow’s nest.

“I’m going to the bakery! I’m going to the bakery! I’m going to the bakery!” the winged devil screeched from atop Jimin’s shoulder, ruffling its bright feathers as if taunting him.

Shooting it the nastiest of scowls, Jungkook reached behind his head to untie the vermilion bandana holding his overgrown locks away from his narrowed eyes. “You better shut that bird up before I toss it to the sharks, Jimin.”

“If I let you do that, I’d also have to throw you overboard. The both of you are equally annoying,” the other pirate snorted in contempt, glancing up at his younger friend striding across the ship before moving his gaze back to the knapsack he was emptying for the pilfer. Out fell several empty bottles of rum, a few gold pieces glinting in the harsh midday sun, two jewel-encrusted daggers, and a worn eyepatch that suspiciously looked to be the same as the one Yoongi always wore over his left eye. “You seem to forget that we’re here to steal from the rich, not buy fancy breads! You’re lucky that Namjoon has half the decency not to kick you off the boat. Jin, however fond he is of you, still calls you a moocher.”

Rouge faintly dusted across Jungkook’s cheekbones as he coughed into his fist, lifting his shoulder in a half-shrug. “I steal stuff sometimes,” he muttered under his breath. It was useless to defend himself against someone who saw straight through him.

“Sometimes, my foot!” Jimin scoffed, hiking the bag over his shoulders. “Bringing back a goblet you found rolling down the street doesn’t count, you know that, right?”

Jungkook rolled his eyes to the cloudless sky, far too stubborn to admit that Jimin was right. With not another word, the young pirate clambered off of the large vessel and onto the rickety docks, grunting upon landing. It didn’t bother him much that Jimin was irked at his lack of contribution. They were rich enough as it is; what was the rush?

The air was tangy with sea salt and damp wood as he inhaled a deep breath, setting off for your bakery. Walking there took exactly three hundred and seventy two steps. Jungkook had memorized the shortest route to your little shop, mumbling the numbers under his breath with a growing grin blossoming across his lips. He subconsciously rolled the sleeves of his white tunic down, the fabric concealing the pirate tattoos inked all over his arms.

When the youthful sea wolf stepped foot into your store, a familiar chiming of the bell hooked atop the door echoed across the cream-walled room. At the reverberating sound, your head peeked out from the kitchen situated in the back. An illuminating beam danced on your features, eyes lighting up with mirth at the sight of Jungkook.

It made the muscle within his chest slam against his ribcage, desperate to be freed from its confines because it belonged to you, and only you. He wasn’t quite sure when the sudden fixation for the village baker his crew was stealing from started, but he had acclimated to his own change of heart by visiting you as often as he could.

“Fancy seeing you here today. Are you coming in or are you now my human door stopper?” Your heavenly voice floated towards Jungkook, snapping him out of his thoughts. Sheepish, he shuffled inside, engulfed by the warm scents of chocolate cakes, powdered pastries, caramelized fruits, and toasted almonds. His stomach gave an impatient snarl at the sight of tempting desserts. You had also walked to the front of the counter, dusting your flour covered hands on an apron. Some of the white powder had managed to smudge on your cheek, and Jungkook had to resist the urge to reach over and thumb it away.

“Hi,” he said with the brightest of grins. “I’ve missed you.”

At his bold statement, you suppressed a chortle. “I think you missed those chocolate cream puffs you like so much, not me. What’ve you been up to while you were gone?”

Jungkook hesitated at that. For the short amount of time he’d been visiting you, not once had he mustered the courage to tell you of his true origins. A savage pirate like him shouldn’t even be around the likes of you. You had no idea that he was part of the crew that was robbing your village, and the very thought of you finding out had him terrified. You were a taste of all the goodness in the world, and Jungkook was afraid you’d crumble into ash if he dared touch you. The sinner had no rights touching an angel, after all.

“Visiting family,” he hummed, quick to move on. If you noticed his strange demeanor, you didn’t say anything. For that, Jungkook was grateful. “I brought something for you.”

There was something about your smile that seemed to expel any and all feelings of gloom in a room. Jungkook was no exception to this feat, his knees almost buckling against the soft pink counters. He righted himself by leaning his elbows on top and propping his chin up with a palm. Gods, he didn’t know he was in this deep.

“Oh?” you set your hands on your hips, tilting your head to the side. “To what do I owe such pleasures?”

The corners of his eyes crinkled. “For those cream cheese tarts you made me last time I visited. Thought I’d repay you.” Whilst saying this, he used his free hand to reach into his back pocket, fishing out a string of authentic pearls, adorned with a glimmering clasp of gold the same hue as the sun.

Your smile melted into a confused pucker, brows knitting together in a muted painting of hesitance, yet you ogled the expensive necklace dangling by one of his spindly fingers nonetheless. Where on earth had he gotten such a valuable treasure? “But you already paid me with money. I really can’t take that, Jungkook.”

Disappointment was easily detected as he slanted his lips to the side. “Alright, then.” He tucked the pearls back into his pocket. It surprised you how easily he had complied.

The worrisome atmosphere was quick to dissolve when the bell jangled once more. A small child meandered in with a toothy beam, holding a small pouch of clattering coins in their palm. They were no taller than Jungkook’s midriff, and he liked it a little more than he should have watching a certain softness adorn your features at the sight of the kid.

“I recommend the cinnamon apple pie. Or maybe the brown sugar crepes if you’re looking for something sweeter,” Jungkook said, gesturing to the treat behind the display glass. The child angled their head to stare at the taller man with wonder. “Anything Y/N makes is to die for, though.”

The child excitedly babbled something in return, but you didn’t quite pick up what they had said. You were far too focused on Jungkook’s animated features when he kneeled down to point at some more desserts. Sure, he was a handsome man, you’ve known that since day one. You’ve never really looked at him in this light. It was as if he were carved from pure luminosity, whittled by the hand of the most skilled sculptor. Everything about him was practically perfect; the gentle slope of his nose, the angles of his raised eyebrows, the dappled rouge of his lips, the beauty marks mottling his dewy skin, the dangerous cuts of his jaw, the twinkle of gaiety you found in his irises. With the sunlight filtering through the windows, it basked Jungkook within a golden radiance, the shadows casted along his face only highlighting his best features, doing nothing to aid your fluttering pulse. Has he always been this beautiful?

“I’ll have a slice of apple pie!”

The sudden clinking of coins being dumped onto the counter snapped you out of your trance, and you kindly wrapped up what the child ordered and handed them the paper bag. Both you and Jungkook watched as they smiled in thanks and trotted out of the bakery. Curse his handsome physique.

A little flustered by your earlier thoughts, you busied your hands by sorting the coins the kid had coughed up. Jungkook, ever the kind soul, merely stood with you as you worked, engaging you in entertaining conversations to keep you occupied while your store was empty. Where did the sun go once it disappeared down the horizon? Why did everybody else seem to enjoy the bitter taste of coffee except him? Why did his heart beat so quickly when around you? The last question he couldn’t muster the courage to ask, and much to his perturbation, he already knew the answer. You enjoyed Jungkook’s company very much; to the point where you couldn’t quite remember what it was like before he had sauntered into your life.

Before the both of you knew it, the sun was already setting. Jungkook noticed the way you deflated just slightly when red kissed the sky. It was a telltale sign that Jungkook was long overdue to go back to his ship. Yoongi would have his ass if he was late again. The whole situation was ridiculous, really. He felt like a fairy tale princess running away from the ball before his clothes grew into tatters. Well, in his case, he supposed it’d be pirate-wear.

Your smile betrayed only the gentlest hint of disappointment as you thrusted a bag of warm cookies into his arms. “Take this for the road,” you had said.

And so Jungkook did, smiling like an idiot the whole way back. A part of him absentmindedly wondered what your face would look like when you noticed that he had left the pearls on the countertop for you.

The ship rocked as the young pirate scampered across the deck at a startling speed, flinging the doors to the cabins open. Six older pirates stared at his panting form, a few looking on with unsurprised indifference, most glaring at him in disappointment. Jimin merely stuck his tongue out, his childish way of saying I told you so. There was expectancy in the captain’s eyes, but it waned away at an instant upon seeing that Jungkook carried nothing of value. Namjoon pinched the space between his brows in mild frustration.

Stiffly, Jungkook jerked his arm to thrust the bag in his hand forward. “Cookie?” he asked. Nobody said anything. Jungkook slowly brought his appendage back down, guilt roiling in his abdomen. “I take it you guys don’t want the cookies?”

With a huff, Namjoon stalked forward. “Of course we want the cookies, give me that.” He snatched the bag out of Jungkook’s hands and tossed it to Taehyung, who caught it with eagerness vividly splayed across his ruffled features. “I do have to admit, we’re getting tired of you bringing back nothing but sweets every time we go on raids, Jungkook. C’mon, kid, this is a team effort here. Look, just today Yoongi managed to steal a dozen coffers from a nobleman. The least you can do is try.” True to the captain’s word, there was a mountain of chests and boxes full to the brim with gold coins and shimmering jewels piled to the side of the cabin.

Swallowing down the lump in his throat, Jungkook nodded in understanding, though not without a miniscule frown twinging his lips. What was a pirate without his treasure, right?

Taking note of his glum demeanor, Namjoon clapped a hand to the younger man’s shoulder. “We’re not mad at you—”

Yoongi snorted at that.

“We just… want to help you help us,” Namjoon finished, ignoring the salty pirate’s quip from behind him.

The youngest man on deck raised his hand to his forehead in an awkward salute. “Yes cap’n!” Shame prowled within his chest; just thinking about the dishonor he brought to the pirate reputation by loitering in a bakery all day, ogling at sugary treats (and the sweet baker, but Jungkook digresses).

A part of him felt even worse knowing that he’d see you less and less, what with the other pirates breathing down his neck. He could only hope that you’d still look forward to his visits, though few and far in between.

Authentic bottles of expensive wines were shoved into his knapsack by Taehyung, lacing chains of aureate crammed into his hands by Hoseok, bars of cold silver wedged into the pits of his arms by Jimin, and more treasures thrown at the youngest pirate to hold as they lithely ran across the village. Being one of the stronger and more agile ones of the group had its downfalls, after all. He was being treated like a pack mule, hauling all the treasure for them. Not that he was going to complain; Jungkook knew that he deserved the rough-housing.

“Hold onto these for me, will you?” Yoongi gruffly uttered as he slid the thick hilts of gem-encrusted daggers into his belt. Jungkook complied hesitantly, but not without a suppressed groan of annoyance. “They’ll sell for more than a pretty penny, so don’t lose them.” The older pirate seemed to be in a grumpier than usual mood, considering he lost his eyepatch and the mottled scar crossing over his eye was on display for anybody to gawk at. It would’ve been worrying to Jungkook if he wasn’t aware of the fact that Jimin was merely prolonging his juvenile game of ‘keep away’, attempting to dance away from Yoongi’s inevitable wrath.

Perhaps being a pirate wasn’t his true calling, because Jungkook found that his mind kept wandering off to the matters at hand—running away from the guards. Though it was a relatively easy task (the guards were quite thick-headed in this village), he thought about the pretty plants dangling from the balconies of a building they jogged by, or the scents of exotic spices carried by the souq market not far from where they were. Most of all, much to his expectancy, his thoughts were centered around you. Had you gotten many customers for lunch rush? Were you lonely without him? How many times have you smiled today? Jungkook was all too fond of your smile.

Blinded by his unsaid affectionate ramblings, he only barely caught on to Namjoon’s quiet, “We shook the guards off for now. Be careful next time, Seokjin. The sun’s about to set soon; we should head back to the ship before it gets dark.”

Jungkook hissed out a small sigh of relief, bending over to catch his breath. Jogging across the village would have been no problem, but running with treasures twice his weight draped all over him was a different story.

When he righted himself back to standing, the sudden pit of shocked trepidation unfurled within his abdomen. There you were, beautiful as ever, but a terrifying sight to see. Normally you’d be the only person he would want to see, but as of this moment, you were the absolute last person he fancied bumping into.

Why now? He had the most rotten of luck.

Today you weren’t wearing your regular apron, but a pair of fitted grey trousers and a soft beige blouse far too large for you, hanging off of one of your shoulders as you cradled a basket of breads and cheeses and other groceries in your arms. It was a simple outfit, but one that made his heart clench nonetheless. The glinting of iridescent pearls draped over your décolletage had his breath stolen away from him as raw sentiment overtook his form. You were wearing the pearls he left for you and you never looked more beautiful. Jungkook, on the other hand, was clad in clothes that practically screamed pirate; a golden-clasped corset tightened about the small of his waist, a tattered white button-up tucked into his dark trousers, worn sea boots covering his feet. A large gun was also slung over the belt cinched around his hips, along with multiple daggers of the like, and not to mention all the riches and jewelry the other boys had thrown at him.

You couldn’t see him. No, it would absolutely ruin Jungkook.

Perhaps dropping everything he was holding in a panicked effort to dash away as quickly as he could was the worst possible thing he could have done to not warrant any attention.

The concerned and confused questions erupting from the other pirates as they whipped their heads towards their youngest comrade went completely ignored. He scampered away from them, lunging towards a shadowed alley and hiding behind a teetering pile of musty boxes. A stray cat nuzzled against his leg, but Jungkook merely shooed it away with a frustrated glare and not-so-subtle shushing gestures.

What a fool I am, the young buccaneer berated himself, pressing a knuckle against his temple in frustration. He waited for another minute, before slinking out from the shadows, peering around the corner to see if you were still there.

No sign of you. Relief seized his chest, but not without the gentlest flower of disappointment staining whatever solace he felt, a weed amongst the roses. Jungkook’s mind was still reeling from the fact that you were wearing his pearls.

Treading carefully, he strode out of the alley, turning the other direction before halting in his tracks completely. A queer, garbled noise tumbled past his lips.

It was you, a confused smile gracing your features, and all Jungkook could think about was how the sunlight was made for you, how you glowed in front of him, how he wanted to cradle you into his chest and murmur confessions of his pure, unadulterated love into your ear. But Jungkook didn’t do any of that. Instead, he merely stood there, as if he was imitating a statue in all of his pirate glory. Terrified, regretful, and ever so angry at himself.

Fate was a cruel game.

The pearls shone prettily on your skin. A reminder of the best mistake he’s ever made.

Your eyes had yet to wander down to fully take in his appearance, for your expression still held fondness for the man that’s visited your bakery so often, still having no idea that he was a filthy pirate, locked into his molten gaze. “I think you dropped something…?” The golden chains dangled loose between your fingers as you held them out to him. Jungkook didn’t take them, frozen on the spot.

It was as if he could pinpoint the exact moment you found out his true origins. Your brows furrowed upon seeing the weaponry strapped onto him, one of his pirate tattoos on display (Jungkook cursed himself for not thinking of rolling his sleeve back down), and the six other men watching in silent despondency behind them. You had always been a sharp one, far too smart for your own good.

Or, perhaps, it's always been obvious. Jungkook was only wishing for the impossible.

“You’re a pirate.”

The statement wedged a stake into his chest, splintering his heart into pieces. When you stepped away from him, confused horror marring your beautiful features, Jungkook knew that it was over.

He lost you.

A flurry of emotions, overwhelming and tumultuous, evidently took over you at his lack of denial. You looked to be just as heartbroken as he was.

“You’re a pirate,” you repeated, dazed. You wanted him to say something, anything. Much to his surprise, you didn’t sound angry. You took several steps back this time. The weight of pearls around your neck suddenly felt choking.

The sudden calling of his name had his head whipping around to look at his captain, watching the brutal exchange with gentle sternness. “We have to go.” The guards’ll be coming soon, no doubt.

Jungkook looked back to you, any and all words lodged in his throat. Despite the fear in your irises, a soft expression of acceptance folded over your visage, for under all his pirate exterior, he was still the same man that you thought so fondly of from your bakery. The look was short-lived however, quick to fade away when Jungkook reached out for you hesitantly. A part of him pondered how a simple baker managed to steal from the stealer. You had robbed him of his heart, and Jungkook didn’t even try to stop you.

Upon seeing you inch away in mortification at your new revelation, Jungkook retracted his arm and pursed his lips. The agony clawing at his stomach was begging to be set free. He wanted nothing more than to get onto his knees and plead for your forgiveness.

I’m sorry I lied. I’m sorry I’m not the man you thought I was. I’m sorry I fell in love with you.

His name came out again, this time from Yoongi. That meant it was serious.

“I’ll come back,” Jungkook said, tears rimming the bottom of his warm doe eyes. You watched him start to trek backwards. “I promise.” The words felt heavy on his tongue, like he was swallowing down a knot of thorned ivy.

Before you had the chance to say anything back, he was gone, bounding back to his ship with his comrades. Not long after, the distant barks of guards pursuing them rang throughout the village. You took that as your cue to leave. Swallowing down the urge to cry, you forced your eyes away.

You hoped he wouldn’t uphold his promise, for the both of your sakes.

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licncourt · 2 years ago

Note

What r ur favorite fragrances that you don’t wear yourself/men’s fragrances/honorable mentions?

Ooh, thank you for asking!! I love fragrance so much (<- stating the obvious)

I really like Coty Stetson as a men's fragrance. It's the cologne my dad wears so I have a lot of fond memories of it, but I also genuinely think it's a nice alternative to the really aggressive, sharp scents that seem to be the go-to for men these days. It has notes of lavender, bergamot, cedar, carnation, honey, clary sage, and vetiver. (It's almost unisex, so I've definitely stolen from my dad a couple times to add some edge to a very feminine outfit.) I have very few opinions on men's cologne in general as a lesbian, but this one is a banger and a classic.

As far as perfumes I love but don't wear, the first thing that comes to mind is YSL Black Opium (orange blossom, pink pepper, bitter almond, vanilla, jasmine, cashmere). It's my cousin's signature scent and it's absolutely lovely, it always makes me think of her. We've been the best of friends since we were in diapers and anytime I miss her, I sniff a sample bottle of Black Opium. It's something I'd wear, but it would feel weird if I did, that's "her scent".

+ Honorable Mentions

Victoria's Secret Crème Cloud: This is a fairly simple scent, but very sweet and pretty. I always spray this on my robe and pajamas and now I can Pavlov myself into relaxation with it. It's like a little hug in a bottle: vanilla, meringue, sandalwood, amber, and musk.

Red Deer Grove Fetish: Generally I'm not the kind of person who wears spicy perfumes, but if I'm going to it's this one. It stays very soft and rounded with dragon's blood, bay rum, cinnamon, musk, sandalwood, amber, clove, tobacco, vanilla, cream, oakmoss. I have given this Etsy shop so much of my money and I never regret it.

Chanel No. 5: Listen, this is a classic for a reason. I only bust this one out for special occasions because my bottle was a gift from my mom for my 16th birthday. I'm twenty-two now and I've only used half the bottle because it deserves to be savored. It's not for everyone, but just like Shalimar, I really enjoy "mature" scents. I fell in love with white florals and musk because of this perfume. Theoretically the notes are aldehydes, bergamot, neroli, lily of the valley, jasmine, iris, civet, vetiver, and musk, but it just smells like Chanel No. 5 to me.

Andromeda's Curse The Moon: Another Etsy shop that owns my ass. I would like to be controversial yet brave and say that the most underutilized notes in perfume these days are powder and HEAVY florals because people are afraid of them, but I absolutely adore both and that's the focal point of this perfume. It's so heady and sharp in exactly the way love with honeysuckle, gardenia, lily, milk, powder, and honey.

On top of regular perfume, I also have a kind of "scent library" with indie fragrance that I use to channel certain moods for art or writing (a dab on the wrist or in an essential oil warmer). They aren't as wearable as the others, but I love them. These are my favorites:

Andromeda's Curse Black Phillip: animal musk, butter, straw, old wood

Andromeda's Curse Haunted Conservatory: wet soil, orchid, white lily, musk, rot, crushed vegetation

Strange South Baby Shoes: milk, powder, cut grass, gasoline, damp earth

Strange South Space Dust: hot metal, stone, cold air

#there is no limit to how long i will discuss perfume or candles #that is a threat #answered #flora.txt

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imkylotrash · 4 years ago

Text

Found A Lover

Pairing: Saul Silva x reader

Request: They are soulmates but Saul is stubborn (all the angst) and refuses to accept the bond until reader gets hurt and we get an epic love confession. @kingunder221b And She's close to graduation. Her friend, also a fairy, is really into potions, he's brilliant at that. He hides his stuff in her room and something goes wrong with his last potion. The reader is hurt and it's like in a fairy tale, she falls asleep. The difference is, she's trapped in one big nightmare and her heart will give up if they don't find a solution. They try everything, even go to Dowling, but nothing helps. The only option left is true love kiss, so they go to Silva. Anonymous

A/N Italics are the nightmares and I tried going for a little bit of a horror theme though nothing too bad. They can be skipped if that’s not your thing. I’m not sure if any of this falls under trigger warnings but please let me know if you want something added 💛

Tagging: @grey-girl @intoanothermind @anreeixcobra @kingunder221b @lflores2008 @alexiapayne12 @quuenofblacks @quarterback-5 @estelmei @bitchwhytho @music-of-melody @artsyle @baueoud @glowingatdawn @shadowhuntyi

There’s no denying it though Saul tries very hard to. His soulmate is not a student at the school. He refuses to believe his own eyes as you hold out your arm with the exact same scar as his. Same shape, same placement, same everything.

“This is a mistake,” he says making it seem as though it’s somehow your fault that the universe decided that the two of you would be right for each other.

“With that reaction I’m not exactly too fond either,” you sneer upset that he so willingly disregards you. All your life, you’d listened to people finding their soulmate and falling head over heels in love within seconds. Like they’ve been walking around blind and now they can finally see. That’s what you expected when you found your soulmate - not a grumpy old man desperate to get as far away from you as possible.

“We should keep this information to ourselves for now,” he says and you couldn’t agree more. Why would you want to tell everyone that your soulmate refuses to acknowledge your bond? What Saul doesn’t tell you is just how terrified he is finally having found his soulmate. He’d made peace with the fact that he’d spend life alone. He’s terrified that you’re so young compared to him and that he won’t be able to give you everything that you want. He’s already raised Sky and he’s not eager to think about doing that again. The best action for him is staying away and allowing you to fall in love with someone who can be what you need. It’s just not how this soulmate thing works.

Upset from his rejection, you run straight to Logan’s room hoping he’ll be back soon so you can cry on his shoulder. You’re not sure if you’ll be able to tell him what happened but you know he won’t push you if you don’t want to talk. He doesn’t get there in time though. You have no way of knowing that the book you grab to inspect as you wait is actually a secret storage box. The weight surprises you and it slams onto the floor. Something breaks inside the book which confuses you even more. When does books contain glass. When you open the lid, a weird dust spreads making you cough violently. Your eyes water as you struggle to breathe. Within seconds, you’re lying on the floor looking as if you’re blissfully asleep.

“Y/N!” Logan runs over to shake you awake but he knows it’s no good when he sees the smashed bottle. Without wasting another minute, he runs right out the door to find Mr. Harvey leaving you to your own worst nightmare.

“Hello,” you call out walking down the empty hallway. It feels like you’re underground but you can’t be sure without finding a window so you keep walking. The first thing you notice when you enter the new room is the blood soaking your slippers. The white bunny slippers are now red and you feel like you might be sick.

“Hello,” you call out once more hoping someone will hear you.

“Hello,” someone says in a mocking tone. You spin around to find yourself standing there? Is it a mirror of some kind?

“I’m not a mirror, you idiot. I’m you,” it says carelessly throwing a knife into the air and catching it again, “but without all the weaknesses.” You want to scream but suddenly, your mouth is sewn shut. When you reach up to touch it, you feel the thread closing your lips together.

“I figured that was the easiest way to keep you from yelling. God, do you ever shut up?” The thing takes a few stops closer to you still clutching the knife in their hand.

“Sorry. That was a very dentist move of me, wasn’t it? Asking you a question knowing full-well that you can’t answer.” You must’ve sprouted roots because there’s no way you’d still be standing there if you were able to move. Carefully, the copycat lifts the knife to your mouth letting the tip of the blade run across the thick thread.

“Poor thing, huh? Not even your soulmate wants you. It’s sort of like mommy and daddy all over.”

Your body is being transferred to Mr. Harvey’s office as well as the powder you inhaled. Logan knows exactly what potion it is but there’s no cure in the records. No cure to wake you up and it’s all his fault for not storing the potions correctly. He knew he should’ve kept them under lock and key but half the stuff in his room, he wasn’t even supposed to have.

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Harvey. I never thought anyone would get hurt.” He looks down at his best friend lying on the table and he swears he’ll never be so careless with potions ever again.

“It’ll do you no good to dwell on that now. We need all hands on deck to figure out how to wake her up again.” What he doesn’t mention is the fact that he’s not sure how much time your heart has left before it stops entirely. The stress it’s being put under is nothing like Mr. Harvey has ever seen before.

“Fight, Y/N,” Logan whispers.

You want to scream at yourself for bringing up mom and dad but you can’t. The knife comes to rest on your throat so that every time, you take a breath you feel the cold blade on your skin.

“Should I be quick or slow? What do you prefer?” Once again, you try to scream but to no avail. The first cut takes you by surprise. When the copy of you brings the knife down to your chest, you get worried. Could you really kill yourself like this?

“Blink once for quick, twice for slow.” You blink once waiting for it to be over. You don’t know why you’ve given up so easily or why you not even for a second think to use your magic but you just don’t have a fight in you.

“Perfect.” The blade pierces your skin until it reaches your heart. You feel the heart beating faster in an attempt to persevere but it is futile.

“I’ve tried everything, Farah. Every solution the greenhouse has to offer and nothing works.” Three days pass with Harvey working hard to reverse the potion’s effects but nothing helps. You stay asleep and your heart continues to beat itself to death.

“Do we know who their soulmate is? We should probably inform them,” Ms. Dowling says bringing out a vague memory in Logan’s mind. He runs straight to the library hoping his theory is right.

“Is everything okay?” He looks up to find Mr. Silva standing there.

“Y/N is hurt. I’m trying to find a cure,” Logan says grabbing the book and running straight back to Mr. Harvey but this time Mr. Silva is right behind him.

“True love’s kiss!” Logan exclaims finding the fairy tale in the book from Earth. He shows it to Mr. Harvey and Ms. Dowling who scans over the fairy tale of Sleeping Beauty.

“Then we must find her soulmate,” Mr. Harvey says and while Logan knows it’s true, he also knows you haven’t found your soulmate yet. He’s about to open his mouth when Saul beats him to it.

“I’m their soulmate. We just found out a couple of days ago.” He was so scared when he found out he was your soulmate but watching you lie on that table he knows he can’t let anything happen to you. It’s the reason he leans in and places a gentle kiss on your lips. The effect is almost instantly. You open your eyes very confused and terrified out of your mind. Is this another nightmare?

“It’s okay. You’re safe,” Saul whispers holding your hand tightly. You don’t need words as you look into each other’s eyes. The love is evident even if Saul tried to run from it. Seeing you in pain like this had awoken something inside of him and he swore from that day on that he’d always protect you.

#saul silva imagine #saul silva gif #saul silva blurb #saul silva x reader #saul silva #fate the winx club #fate the winx saga #fate winx club #winx saga #winx club #fate winx #fate #fate netflix #ftws blurb #ftws imagine #ftws #winx saul silva

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captainsamwilsonbarnes · 3 years ago

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I’ll Make This Feel Like Home

I’ve been sitting on this WIP for a while, so I finally decided to finish and post it! It’s just pure self-induglent Sambucky domestic fluff, but my heart really needed it after watching those scenes of them together in Louisiana. 😍😍😍

~*~

Sam x Bucky (4.8K of pure fluff, rated T.) No applicable warnings other than TFATWS spoilers for anyone who hasn’t watched the series yet.

"That," Bucky says as he pushes back from the table and pats his stomach, "was the best goddamn meal I've ever had. Seriously, like ever. You really outdid yourself," he tells Sarah, who gives him a shy smile in return.

"Thank you, Bucky," Sarah beams, her smile growing even wider as she reaches out to pat his shoulder. "I like this one," she tells Sam. "He's a keeper."

"Yeah, he sure is," Sam grins. "I thought about returning him a couple of times, but he kinda grew on me," he winks while slipping his hand under the table and squeezing Bucky's knee.

That causes a very attractive blush to spread across Bucky's face, and Sam can't help thinking about all of the ways he could make that happen again.

Bucky gives Sam a private smile and says, "I guess you're stuck with me."

"I can live with that," Sam happily agrees.

"Will you be staying long?" Sarah asks Bucky as she stands up and starts collecting their empty plates. "Not that I'm kicking you out, I promise. We have plenty of room, and you're more than welcome to stay as long as you like."

Or forever, Sam thinks, but he keeps that to himself.

This thing with Bucky, these fond looks and lingering touches, that's not exactly new territory for them.

It's just been a while, and Sam's a little unsure of the protocol here when they've only spent a handful of days together after nearly a month of radio silence.

That wasn't Sam's choice, but Bucky was furious when Sam mentioned that he was going to turn in the shield. Sam hadn't even done it yet, but it still led to an ugly argument which ended with Bucky refusing to answer Sam's texts or phone calls after that. Things only got worse from there when the government gave the shield to Walker, but Sam didn't feel like he had much of a choice in the matter.

Sam's no fool, he knew the government wouldn't allow him to become the next Captain America. It had been a sweet gesture on Steve's part, but it left Sam with more questions than he had answers for.

After they returned from the blip, Sam ended up living in Wakanda with Bucky for a while since his previous apartment in D.C. was long gone. It was a hard truth to accept, but a lot had changed in five years. Sam knew he could go back to Delacroix and live with Sarah and the boys, but he wasn't quite ready for that yet.

Not that he didn't miss them dearly, but he wanted to take some time to adjust to this new normal before moving back home. It was a lot to process at the time, and Sam definitely didn't want to give Sarah any more reasons to worry about him.

Naturally, Shuri and T'Challa happily opened their hearts and home to him when Bucky explained Sam's situation. They were extremely gracious about it and assured Sam that he was welcome to stay as long as he wanted.

That only ended up being a few months, but it allowed Sarah to prepare for Sam's return, and for Sam to be in a much better mental state.

Truth be told, Sam's not quite sure he could have recovered as quickly as he did if it weren't for Bucky.

Bucky, who hadn't even hesitated to ask Shuri and T'Challa if Sam could stay in Wakanda with them.

Bucky, who had been nothing but sweet and charming to him the entire time Sam was there.

Bucky, who always held and comforted Sam when he needed it.

Bucky, who never judged or pitied Sam when he cried.

Bucky, who always dried Sam's tears with a gentle touch.

Bucky, who understood that anger was a perfectly valid emotion, given everything they'd been through.

Bucky, who was typically a man of few words, but happily talked Sam's ear off whenever Sam needed a distraction from his thoughts.

Bucky, who has been through his own share of personal horrors, but always put Sam's comfort and well-being before his own.

Bucky, who quickly became one of Sam's very best friends and completely stole his heart.

Their nights together in Wakanda were Sam's favorite because they would often lie on a blanket under the stars, just the two of them. They told each other things they never shared with anyone else, not even Steve, and Sam really enjoyed getting to know the real Bucky.

Their interactions always remained platonic, but Sam would be lying if he said he didn't want more. He often wondered if Bucky did too, but Sam ended up leaving before he had a chance to find out.

Back in the present, Bucky shakes his head in response to Sarah's question as he gives Sam a wistful smile.

"Nah, I wish. I've got some things to take care of back in Brooklyn, so I'm leaving tomorrow, actually. But," he adds hopefully, "I would love to come back for another visit sometime. If that's okay."

"Absolutely," Sarah nods. "You're always welcome here anytime, so don't be a stranger," she says as she leans down and kisses Bucky's cheek.

"Watch yourself, baby sister," Sam glares as he swats at her with a dish towel.

"Do that again Samuel, and I'm throwing out the rest of the beignets," Sarah threatens.

"Okay, truce," Sam relents as he holds up his hands in mock surrender. Sarah's beignets are his favorite, and he doesn't doubt that she would throw them away just to spite him.

"I better have another one, just in case he decides to stick his foot in his mouth again," Bucky tells Sarah as he reaches for the plate of leftovers.

"Oh, you think you're cute, huh?" Sam smirks as he snaps the dish towel in Bucky's direction this time.

"Not as cute as you, Samuel," Bucky drawls just before taking a bite of the fluffy pastry.

Sam's entire face flushes hotly as he looks up and meets Bucky's eyes.

Is he…flirting?

It's been a while since anyone has flirted with him, so Sam is a bit out of practice. Still, there's a mischievous twinkle in Bucky's eyes that Sam hasn't seen in months. The warmth suddenly spreads from his cheeks straight down to places that he doesn't want to think about with his little sister in the room.

"Well, at least we agree on something," Sam jokes as he plucks the half-eaten beignet out of Bucky's hand and pops it into his mouth. It's a weak reply, but it's all his brain could come up with after being caught off guard like that.

Bucky isn't even fazed, he just reaches for another beignet and eats it in two bites. "God, these are amazing," he moans.

It's pure torture for Sam, watching helplessly as Bucky licks the powdered sugar from his lips.

"Thank you," Sarah says as she places a sealed paper bag in front of Bucky. "These are for you to take home with you. They won't be quite as good as they are when they're fresh, but just heat them up in the oven for about five minutes and they'll be pretty close."

"Marry me," Bucky says dramatically as he reaches for both of Sarah's hands. "Make an honest man out of me, Sarah Wilson."

"You're sweet," Sarah giggles as she pulls her hands back and dusts them off, "but I don't feel like being turned into fish food."

"Empty threats," Bucky waves dismissively in Sam's direction. "He'll eventually learn to accept our love."

Sam almost chokes on his beer at Bucky's words. He knows it's all a joke and he's pretty sure (okay, somewhat sure) that Bucky isn't actually interested in his sister, but it still leaves a very unsettling feeling in his stomach.

Especially because Bucky can really lay on the charm when he wants to.

"I'm going to miss you," Sarah tells Bucky as she holds out her arms and wraps him up in a hug.

No, Sam is absolutely not jealous about that. He's just going to drink the rest of his beer and pretend like he doesn't want to pry them apart. (He is secretly thrilled that they get along so well, but he can obviously never let them know that. It would give them too much power.)

"I'll miss you too, sweetheart," Bucky says as he lifts Sarah right off of her feet and swings her around. "I promise I'll be back, though."

"I'm holding you to that," Sarah tells him while poking Bucky's chest.

"Please do," Bucky laughs as he sets her back down.

"Okay gentlemen," Sarah says as she continues stacking plates next to the sink, "any chance you guys might take care of the dishes so I can pry the boys away from their video game and tuck them in?"

"Of course," Bucky nods while reaching out and offering Sam a hand. "You wash, I'll dry?"

"Deal," Sam grins as he lets Bucky help him to his feet. Not that Sam needs it, but he loves that Bucky is so delightfully chivalrous.

"Don't let him trick you into doing all the work," Sarah warns Bucky as she pulls him into another hug. "And you better come down and say goodbye before you leave tomorrow."

"Yes ma'am," Bucky says as he gives Sarah one last squeeze. "Thanks again for dinner, and just for everything, really."

"Thanks for always keeping my brother safe," Sarah smiles at them both as she exits the kitchen.

"Your family is amazing," Bucky tells Sam once they're alone. "Cass and AJ are the sweetest kids, and I'm really going to miss this place."

"Don't miss it for too long then," Sam says as he claps a hand on Bucky's shoulder. "I know you have stuff to sort out in Brooklyn, but you can always come back here afterward. Maybe stay a while and make a proper vacation of it," he suggests.

"I thought we were going to take separate vacations?" Bucky teases.

"I've got Carlos and his fillet knife on speed dial, just so you know," Sam jokes as he grabs two more beers from the fridge and hands one to Bucky.

"I'm kidding," Bucky says as he accepts the bottle. Their fingers connect briefly, and Sam wishes they could live in this moment forever. No threats on their lives, no drama, just each other.

"Well I'm serious about you coming back. You up for it?" Sam asks.

"Definitely," Bucky nods before taking a sip from his beer. "Just let me tie up some loose ends in Brooklyn, then I'm all yours," he winks.

It's a common phrase, Sam realizes, but it still causes a sudden warmth to bloom in his chest.

I'm all yours.

Yeah, he could get used to that.

"Works for me," Sam says as he sets his beer down and turns his attention to the sink.

Bucky's words keep replaying in his head like a broken record: I'm all yours…I'm all yours...I'm all yours… so Sam has to occupy his hands before he does something reckless.

"Here, let me help," Bucky offers as he grabs a clean dish towel and joins Sam by the sink.

Bucky's 'help' turns out to be nothing but a distraction since he's pressed up against Sam's side, warm and solid. Sam's not really sure when Bucky started wearing cologne, but the one he's got on right now smells familiar. It's probably one of his own, Sam distantly realizes, since they both showered just before dinner.

Bucky hadn't brought much with him besides a single change of clothing, so he likely hadn't packed many toiletries.

"Are you wearing my cologne?" Sam asks out of curiosity, not that he minds in the least. Bucky usually just smells like fabric softener, which always makes Sam want to hold him close and breathe him in.

"Yeah," Bucky admits, "I hope you don't mind. I didn't bring any, so I just wanted to smell nice."

"You do," Sam says as he nudges Bucky's shoulder. What he doesn't dare mention is the fact that Bucky smells exactly like he probably would if he woke up in Sam's arms, with their combined scents mingling together. "You look nice, too," he adds in what he hopes is an appreciative tone.

Since Bucky neglected to pack anything to sleep in, he's wearing one of Sam's favorite T-shirts and a pair of his sweatpants. The shirt is a bit snug, but it clings to him in all the right places.

"Thanks," Bucky blushes as Sam hands him some plates to dry.

"You're welcome," Sam says while trying his best not to think about how much better that shirt would look on his bedroom floor.

"Do you think Sarah would share her beignet recipe with me?" Bucky asks a moment later.

"Doubtful," Sam snickers. "She's definitely taking that one to the grave with her. Hell, I don't even know it," he confesses.

"Oh," Bucky frowns. "Well, maybe she can still teach me how to make 'em even if we use a different recipe," he muses. "They're so goddamn addictive."

Shaking his head, Sam says, "they'll never be the same. You need water from the bayou to make them just right."

"Bullshit," Bucky scoffs as he gives Sam a playful shove.

"Hey, don't mock the process," Sam laughs, "but I can teach you if you really want to learn."

"Cool," Bucky grins. "I did a lot of cooking when I was in the Army. I wasn't half bad at it, actually."

"I can see that about you," Sam nods. "Especially living in Brooklyn. I bet you'll turn into one of those foodie snobs in no time."

"Nah," Bucky shakes his head, "I've never been too picky when it comes to food. My ma always taught me to eat whatever was put in front of me, so I doubt I'll ever become a snob about it."

"Sounds like she raised you right, then," Sam smiles.

"Guess so," Bucky agrees as he ducks his head shyly.

They work in companionable silence for the next few minutes, with Sam washing the dishes and then handing them over for Bucky to dry. The kitchen has a nice, wide sink, but no luxuries such as a dishwasher. That's fine with Sam, though. He's glad Sarah chose to preserve the original architecture, rather than overload the house with too many modern fixtures.

"Are there any more dishes left?" Sam asks a little while later as he's rinsing off some forks.

"Nope," Bucky says as he reaches around Sam and shuts off the tap. "All done," he adds in a low voice as he anchors his hands on Sam's hips and presses himself close.

It's so unexpected that it shocks Sam into dropping the forks back into the sink.

"Shit," he curses as soapy water splashes the front of his T-shirt.

"Sorry," Bucky laughs, clearly aware of the effect he's having on Sam.

"No you're not," Sam fires back because Bucky knows exactly what he's doing.

"No, I'm really not," Bucky purrs as he tucks his face into the curve of Sam's neck.

Sam had forgotten how sexy the scrape of stubble could feel. Sweet Jesus.

"Are you nuzzling me?" Sam tries to play it cool, but his voice betrays him by cracking slightly.

"Mmmhmm," Bucky confirms as he rests his chin on Sam's shoulder. "Just let me know if this makes you uncomfortable, and I promise I'll stop."

"Okay," Sam says a bit shakily, "did you accidentally eat some catnip?" Friendly touches are pretty common between them now, but there's absolutely nothing platonic about the way Bucky's got him pressed up against the counter.

Bucky chuckles at that while slipping his hands under Sam's shirt and trailing them over the smooth skin just above Sam's waistband. "I'm fine, Sam."

"Well something's up," Sam insists, but he doesn't pull away.

"Not yet," Bucky leers as he gives Sam's hips a squeeze. "But maybe if you play your cards right."

"Buck," Sam freezes, because that is entirely possible to misinterpret, "are you flirting with me?"

"Well, if you have to ask, then I'm obviously doing it wrong," Bucky laughs again. "I was a lot smoother back in the forties, I swear."

"You're doing fine," Sam praises as he melts into Bucky's touch. "You just caught me off guard, that's all."

"I'm full of surprises, sweetheart," Bucky whispers as he grazes his lips against Sam's neck.

Sam can't help shivering at the touch, because Bucky's lips are a warm contrast to the crisp evening breeze filtering through the open windows. The sweet scent of gardenias fills the air as Sam tries to calm his racing heart.

It's just Bucky, he thinks, which would have completely unnerved him once upon a time. Now it's a familiar comfort, like his favorite sweater, or the melodic sound of his nephews' laughter. Still, he can't seem to contain the flutter in his chest because he knows they're crossing a line that they've been cautiously avoiding for years.

"I like surprises," Sam says as he turns around and grips Bucky by the front of the T-shirt. The fabric is soft, and he can feel the heat from Bucky's skin seeping through it.

"I like you," Bucky counters as he cradles Sam's jaw with one hand. With the other, he hooks his fingers into Sam's belt loops and hauls him closer.

"I like you too," Sam admits as he drops his hands down and settles them on Bucky's waist.

"Glad we're on the same page," Bucky grins as he sweeps his thumb over Sam's cheek. "Would it be terribly old-fashioned of me to ask for permission to kiss you?"

"Yes," Sam says, eyes sparkling with delight, "but I sure hope that's not gonna stop you."

"Consider this my formal request, then," Bucky winks as he tilts Sam's face up.

"Permission granted, Sergeant," Sam murmurs just before Bucky kisses him. It's a slow, sweet drag of their lips at first, then Bucky carefully changes the angle as he cups the back of Sam's neck and deepens the kiss.

Sam lets out a whimper as he reaches up to run his fingers through Bucky's hair. It's the shortest it's ever been since Sam has known him, but he loves it like this. Bucky barely looks older than he did in the forties, and he's still every bit as handsome.

"Finally," Bucky pants shakily against Sam's mouth. "God, I've been wanting to do that for so long."

"Me too, baby," Sam replies as he wraps his arms around Bucky's neck.

"Well then, I guess we'll just have to make up for lost time," Bucky suggests as he leans in for another kiss. It's every bit as sweet as the first one but slightly less gentle as he pins Sam to the counter and rocks their hips together.

"Fuck," Sam groans as he pulls back suddenly and rubs Bucky's cheek. He can hear the TV upstairs so he knows that someone is still awake. Probably Sarah, but it could easily be the boys since it's not even that late. "As much as I really want to take this further, we can't right now. Not until we're sure that everyone's asleep."

"Sweetheart," Bucky says as he slides forward and nudges their noses together. "You don't owe me any explanations. This is your house and I would never want to make anything weird for you and your family. Especially for you, Sam."

"I know," Sam nods, "and I really appreciate that. I just wish we had some privacy, that's all."

"We will," Bucky smiles while adding, "they've gotta fall asleep sometime, right?"

"Right," Sam laughs as he kisses Bucky softly. "You're amazing, you know that? Just in case I don't tell you enough."

"Wait, does that mean I'm not as annoying as you like to pretend I am?" Bucky teases.

"No," Sam grins brightly, "you're definitely still annoying."

Bucky rolls his eyes fondly as he reaches for Sam's hand and steers him into the living room. "Well you're no picnic either, baby doll," he says finally as he drops down onto the couch and pulls Sam into his arms.

"Must be why we're perfect for each other, huh?" Sam winks as he settles onto Bucky's lap and kisses him again.

"Must be," Bucky agrees as he wraps his arms around Sam's neck and kisses him back.

"So, there's something I wanted to talk to you about," Bucky tells Sam a while later when they're curled up on the couch watching TV.

"What is it?" Sam asks as he sits up and turns to face Bucky. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, everything's fine," Bucky replies. "But I kinda broke the lease on my apartment, so that's why I'm heading back to Brooklyn. There's not much left in it, honestly, but I have to pick up the rest of my stuff and then just turn in my keys. I could use some company though if you wanna come with me?"

"Of course, baby," Sam says as he reaches out and squeezes Bucky's knee. "Oh shit, I should probably check for a last-minute flight, though."

"No need," Bucky tells him. "I, uh, kinda hoped you'd say yes, so I already got you a ticket."

"And what if I said no?" Sam challenges.

"Oh," Bucky frowns, "then guess I'd just go alone and miss you the whole time."

"Who knew you were such a drama queen?" Sam smirks while leaning in to kiss Bucky's pout away. "I'm kidding, baby; I'd love to go with you. But wait, where are you moving to then?"

"Well," Bucky blushes, "that's what I wanted to talk to you about. I used to love living in New York, but it's changed a lot since I was a kid. It's too damn loud, for one," he laughs. "That, or maybe I'm just not cut out for big city life anymore."

"So, you're leaving the city," Sam says, but it's not a question. He tried to talk Bucky out of moving there in the first place, but he figured it must have been a comfort thing. It's the only place Bucky has ever lived, so it made sense that he'd end up there, at least for a little while.

"Yeah," Bucky nods. "It's just not home to me anymore. I mean, I guess it hasn't been for the last eighty years, so I think it's time to move on."

"So where did you have in mind?" Sam asks. He doesn't want to assume anything, but he suddenly feels pretty hopeful about what Bucky may be getting at.

"Here," Bucky says while brushing his lips against Sam's. "You're home to me, so I just wanna be wherever you are, baby. I already looked up some apartment listings earlier and I found a few that looked promising. I mean, if you're cool with all of this. I don't want to make you feel pressured, or make things weird, or - "

Sam cuts him off with a kiss so intense that it leaves them both completely breathless.

"Bucky," Sam pants a moment later. "Are you kidding me? You know I hated the idea of you living all alone in Brooklyn, and I hope you know that I always want you around me."

"Always?" Bucky blushes as he shifts closer and rubs his nose against Sam's.

"Always," Sam repeats as he tilts his head and kisses Bucky again. "You're not gonna need that apartment, though."

"I won't?" Bucky says while giving Sam a teasing grin. "How come?"

"Well," Sam explains as he hauls Bucky off of the couch and leads him over to the window. From there, they have a perfect view of the backyard which is bathed in the soft glow of moonlight. "I was actually thinking about building a place for us. We own this land and there's plenty of extra room," he adds while gesturing out the window. "So I was thinking we could build an extension for ourselves, sort of like a guest house. That way, we'll have our privacy, but we can still be near Sarah and the boys. What do you think?"

"I think that sounds like a goddamn amazing plan to me," Bucky says as he turns to wrap his arms around Sam and pull him close. "I haven't known your family for even a whole day yet but I already love them almost as much as I love you," he smiles before leaning in for another kiss.

"Whoa," Sam gasps. "You love me?"

"So much," Bucky nods. "I know it's probably way too soon to say it, but - "

"No, it isn't," Sam disagrees as he gently trails his fingertips over the scruff on Bucky's jaw, "not if you really mean it."

"I've honestly never meant anything more," Bucky murmurs as he steals another kiss. This one is just a quick peck, but Sam still feels it all the way down to his toes.

"Bucky, I - "

"I don't expect you to say it back," Bucky quickly interjects before Sam can even get a word in. "I just wanted you to know how much you mean to me, sweetheart. I know I'm not good with words, and okay, most of the time I'm just not good at expressing myself in general, but - "

"Bucky," Sam tries a little more firmly this time as he rubs the back of Bucky's neck. "I love you too. I've known it since Wakanda for sure, but probably even before that, honestly. You may be a pain in my ass sometimes, but you're the only one I trust with my heart," he finishes as he tugs Bucky forward and kisses him deeply.

"Holy shit," Bucky says as he pulls back and gives Sam a hopeful look. "You love me? Like really?"

"Really," Sam nods as he reaches for Bucky's hand and drags him back over to the couch. "I know it's been a while since we've talked about it," he continues once they get settled, "but I honestly don't know where I'd even be right now if it weren't for you. I was really struggling to accept how much life had changed after the blip, but you," Sam pauses as he turns toward Bucky and scoots closer, "you were my knight in shining armor. Literally," he emphasizes as he reaches for Bucky's vibranium hand and squeezes it. "Thank you, baby. That really meant a lot to me, just in case I don't say it enough."

"Sweetheart, you of all people have nothing to thank me for," Bucky says. "You deserve the world, Sam Wilson, he whispers as he takes hold of Sam's jaw and kisses him again.

"Thank you," Sam pants between kisses. "It's not a competition, but you know you deserve nice things too, right?"

Bucky smiles softly as he leans back and grips Sam by the shoulders. "Baby, I've already got everything I could ever possibly need or want right here."

The with you part goes unspoken, but Sam hears it anyway.

"I love you," Bucky continues as he gives Sam's shoulders a reassuring squeeze. "When I escaped from HYDRA, I never dreamed that I could be happy again, or that I'd fall in love and have a shot at a normal life. Not that anything about our lives is exactly normal," he laughs.

"No, definitely not," Sam agrees, "but we make it work."

"We sure do, sugar," Bucky says as he drops a kiss on Sam's shoulder.

"So how about it?" Sam asks as he reaches for Bucky's hand and laces their fingers together. "Do you think you could be happy here in Delacroix?"

"I don't care where we live," Bucky says as he slides onto Sam's lap. "Here, New York, Wakanda, fucking Mars, even. Delacroix is amazing, but honestly, I'll be happy wherever we are as long as you're there with me," he finishes as he tilts Sam's face up for a kiss.

"You know we don't have any of those fancy sushi joints here, right? Or those hipster coffee shops that you love so much," Sam teases.

"That's okay," Bucky grins as he presses a trail of kisses up Sam's neck. "I make damn good coffee actually, and I happen to know of a fantastic place to get seafood. The owners are a little grumpy, but you learn to love 'em."

"Is that so?" Sam pretends to glare as he pokes Bucky in the ribs.

"Yes it is," Bucky huffs while trying to squirm out of Sam's grasp. "And I think the one with the hot ass might have a crush on me."

"You better be talking about me," Sam smirks as he shoves Bucky backward and crawls on top of him.

"Only you, my love," Bucky says seriously as he wraps his arms around Sam's neck.

"Good answer," Sam winks as he bends down and kisses Bucky slowly. "I love you," he adds when he pulls back and rests their foreheads together.

Bucky smiles at that, sweet and soft and so ridiculously fond as he leans in and nuzzles Sam's cheek.

"I love you more."

~*~

#Sambucky #Winterfalcon #my writing #they make me so happy #especially Bucky taking care of Sam #my baby deserves the world #😍😍😍😍😍#please ignore any glaring mistakes #I think I edited this so much that my eyes were starting to cross #yes I absolutely used a 1D lyric for the title #because that's my other main fandom #and their lyrics make amazing fic titles

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kirietown · 4 years ago

Text

With a Smile

pairing: all might x f!reader

summary: After all, he deserved to be selfish sometimes— and frankly so did you. It came with the wait, didn’t it?

content: toxic relationship, manipulative reader, 18+, size kink, fwb

[part one] [part two] [ao3]

word count: 4.1K

Even as a teenager, you had known that he was something to admire. He was as charitable as he was handsome (something you heard other girls say). ‘He’s got that look— he’s a classic in the making.’ With a quirk as strong as his, it was always expected that he’d make it into the big leagues. But you didn’t care about that; you loved something else about him that you’d never admit to today. You could focus on the physical, however, or the superficial in place of your real thoughts.

His eyes always shone with a light you only thought you could see in the sky— as cheesy as that sounded (you were never quite the poet). In your days at UA you had simply been an underclassmen to him, just another smiling face that would sputter out a simple ‘h-hello senpai’ with the same schoolgirl nerves that he had probably witnessed at least fifty times a day (or maybe not).

Though that meek attitude shaped into something else as his last weeks at UA were approaching. You were only in the year below him, now seventeen and envious of the wind that got to hug his skin, holding him in time as he leant against the trees and watched as other students jogged, or sparred one another. An ever present smile quirked on his lips with a nostalgic sense of fondness as he admired from a distance.

Always from a distance; never in the centre.

You approached him— that was always your favourite thing to say to the small amount of friends who knew about the two of you (he was never a lady’s man in spite of his charisma). Though you never mentioned the slight tremor in your fingers and the nervous expression on your face as you reached forward and gripped the bottom of his uniform jacket. Though you did always have the inclination to mention the startled expression on his face. Pretty blue eyes widened in confusion, blonde hair windswept with his bangs parted on either side of his face, and finally a slight ‘oh’ shape of his lips.

“Yagi-senpai,” you had said (with a stutter you never mentioned). “There’s a cafe just outside campus, I would like you to take me.”

Is what you told your friends you had said— the truth was irrelevant if it was meant to be kept secret.

You chose to live by that.

“Y-yagi-senpai,” you said softly. “Would you be able to assist me in unstacking chairs for graduation?” A smile replaced his shock as he looked down at your smaller frame before nodding his head enthusiastically.

In spite of how unconventional(ly pathetic) that interaction was, you found yourself growing closer to him over the course of the end of the school year. He still kept a distance however, always brushing off questions about his family or his home life, but frankly you never minded. The fleeting looks and tender eyes were only reserved for you; it didn’t matter that his secrets weren’t for anyone as long as you had his eyes.

It was his graduation day when you finally had his lips.

It was late at night and the two of you had volunteered to take down the decorations and fix up the large training area that had been used for the ceremony. He was still in his cap and gown and you had donned a silk (f/c) dress that went to your knees. Once you two had finished stacking the chairs and rolling up the streamers (which the school insisted could be reused), he slid down to the floor with his back to the wall and a dreamy expression on his face.

“Excited?” You had asked. Your own lips were in a firm line as your eyes met the airy smile etched on his lips.

“America is the land of the free, after all,” he said with a cheerful wink— and for a moment you felt what was possibly the first trickle of resentment you had ever felt for the blonde giant. Still, you bit back your tongue and admired him from afar. You let out a sigh before you moved to stand right in front of him, so close you were between his legs. You remembered how he shuffled awkwardly as if attempting to sit up straight with his back to the wall. But you could only focus on the slight pain in your knees when they bumped against the floor. You seated yourself and straddled his wide hips— his large body proportions causing your thighs to feel strained as you sat. You ignored the blush that coated both your faces as you wrapped your arms around his neck and leaned closely— you were careful to watch his expression as if looking for a sign to continue before tentatively planting a shy kiss to his cheek. You sensed his jaw clench, and for a moment you were scared until you felt his arms wrap around your waist and brought you closer.

With hesitance, you pressed your lips against his and found yourself unsure of what to do until you felt his own move against yours. He parted his lips shyly— and it had become apparent that you had taken his first kiss. For a few moments your tongues swirled together with teeth clacking until you both picked up a steady rhythm. His arms wrapped slightly tighter around your waist before he adjusted you on his knee, leaning closer into you. You were the first to pull back, ignoring the string of saliva between the two of you, and moved your head to pepper small wet kisses amongst his jaw before you descended to his neck with a final slow peck.

“I’ll wait for you, Toshinori,” and your friends always swooned when you repeated the words you never said. Their hearts on their sleeves as they gushed on about your boldness and sense of pride. But the truth was after your heated kiss with the muscled male, you had looked him dead in the eyes with a powdered blush and puffy dark lips and said:

“Please , don’t leave me behind.”

Even though you hid those words from the ears of your closest friends, you never did feel shame saying them.

The following four years were kind to you and although you weren’t dating, Toshinori kept in contact with you whilst he studied abroad. You, on the other hand, continued your studies in the medical field rather than choose to work as a sidekick, or try to join an agency. Studies were hectic, but you managed to make acquaintances and even went on a few dates. A part of you wanted to tell Toshinori in a delusional hope that he’d pack his bags and come straight home in a jealous fit— but you were too frightened to say anything in fear of his support; or worse being that he was seeing others too. Though none of your relationships lasted long nor escalated beyond heated kisses, as childish and wishful as it may have sounded; you only wanted Toshi.

It was the day after he came back that you decided to invite him over to your apartment. To say you were shocked was an understatement when you had opened your door to greet the male. He had to dunk down in order to enter— you guessed he was just a few inches over seven feet. You couldn’t help but clench your thighs together at the thought. Other than that, and the way his bangs were styled up, he looked the same. Although his grin seemed to be much wider with what you could describe as permanent smile wrinkles on his cheeks from the way the corners of lips stayed tilted up. For a moment you wished he only smiled at you.

The night was a long one as you both ate a meal you had cooked before you both found yourselves on the couch with a glass of wine in your hand. He, however, insisted on drinking only water for himself much to your amusement.

“As a hero I can’t take the risk of becoming inebriated,” he said with a small laugh, but you weren’t sure about what was so funny.

Other than that, the two of you made small talk as you caught up with one another, the wine gradually loosening you up. It wasn’t enough to make you drunk but just so much so that you inched closer and closer to him without the typical school girl blush he was used to.

“Toshi,” you said softly. Your hand trailed up his torso before moving to wrap his blue tie around your wrist. You pulled him a bit closer to your smaller form. You noticed the way he stilled. “I missed you so much.”

Rather than don the flustered expression that you expected to grace his features, he turned his head away— although you could spot a red blush dusting his face.

“Y/N,” he stated. “I’m sorry.”

Still a bit too confident from the wine, you used his tie to pull yourself closer until you were draped around his side. Your other hand turned his head to look at you in the eyes— (your) lust evident.

“What for?”

“I can never offer you stability, a future or even a family together,” he spoke honestly. “My master had to abandon her own son to protect him from the hero world, and I can’t ever picture having to do the same to you.” You felt sober then. He tightly shut his eyes and you wondered if he anticipated your tears— but they never came.

“I know exactly what I need from you Toshi, it might not be the traditional relationship but I think you should allow yourself to be selfish sometimes, and just indulge.” At the time, you felt as if you weren’t thinking clearly; you were drunken from his presence in a way you always would be.

“Not if the risk comes with your life,” he replied.

Your lips moved to graze his jaw. The muscle clenched in a way that reminded you all too much of a past where Toshi was unafraid of loving you.

“Toshi…” You whispered. “I know the risks— I always knew the risks, I just want to be able to love you in any way I can.” You weren’t sure if you were lying, but you knew you needed him in one way or another. He seemed to understand your point because his face grew impossibly more red at the sound of your sultry voice.

“I… It wouldn’t be very gentlemanly of me, to use you for just my needs and string you along in such a way.” You couldn’t help but release a slight giggle, although forced, at his words before moving to kneel next to him on the coach.

“Now you’re just grasping at straws; I don’t mind being used for your needs.” He furrowed his brows, and for a moment you felt a bit of shame pool in your stomach; he was never used to this lewd side of you. Still, he didn’t seem to share the same amusement you did, and he stood up suddenly.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “But I—“ he paused as if to collect his thoughts before turning to look you in the eye. “I respect you Y/N, and I respect you enough to tell you that you deserve someone who’ll put you first.”

How pathetic would it be of you to tell him you didn’t mind coming in second?

“Leave then,” you said firmly, unable to meet his eyes. Your own were trailed to the half empty wine bottle on the coffee table in front of you. You didn’t even look up when you heard the door of your apartment gently close shut.

You resented him in that moment because you hated feeling pathetic, and you hated the fact that you were a liar.

You wanted to come first for him, and you always have.

It was a week later when he tapped on your window. It was the dead of night but you didn’t care because he was bleeding and in a twist of events you healed him with your quirk— (which allowed you to reverse any injuries obtained within a twenty-four hour time frame). It was cliche, life surely imitating art, but you felt that in a way he was too.

You weren’t one to gloss over details or jump from one point to another, but Toshi always managed to be able to coax out the worst in you even with as bright of a smile as his. Before you knew it, your lips were on his. His hands felt hot as they traced your body through your nightgown. It wasn’t necessarily fiery nor erratically quick paced though you felt yourself heat up from his caresses. He gently pulled down your slip allowing for your breasts to be exposed to the cold night air from the open window. He didn’t seem to mind the chill. Toshinori’s large hands moved to cup your breasts whilst his mouth moved softly against yours, tongues daring to trace each other.

You disconnected your mouth and let a small whine emerge from your throat as Toshinori pinched and pulled your left nipple. Your back was to his firm chest as you remained sprawled on his lap. He paused in his pawing and moved one of his hands to cup your chin up in order to face him, albeit at an awkward angle.

“Did I hurt you?” He asked softly, a slight pant to his voice as his opposite hand moved to rub tender circles around your areola.

Rather than speak, you simply shook your head before softly gripping the hand that held your chin and moved it so that it cupped your sex through your panties. He laughed, and for once you didn’t feel ashamed of your desperation. Your gown was pulled up so that it was wrinkled around your stomach. The material was pushed down your breasts and above your navel. Your legs on either side of his thighs, spread out like a rag doll. He kissed you softly before palming you through your panties whilst his other hand returned to its pulling and kneading. You released a soft moan as his fingers moved the fabric to the side and began to gently rub your slit before he inserted two thick fingers inside your pussy. You always had an admiration for his hands, big, just like everything else about him from his smile to his—

You pushed your ass against him and felt him stir.

“Toshi.. So good… I want you inside… me…” You whined desperately, whilst grinding your backside into his hard cock, hidden underneath his spandex suit. He bucked his hips back causing you to arch forward, just a bit. Toshinori tenderly squeezed your breast and brought you closer to his chest. You could hear the sloshing sounds of your wetness as he quickened his pace. He leant down to kiss your neck as he inserted another finger which coaxed a low moan. Your walls squeezed around his girthy digits, and a grunt emerged from his chest from the sensation. You began to arch your back more as if to match his steady pace as he fucked you with his fingers. But suddenly his other hand had moved to grasp onto your hip and slide you closer as your ass met his erection.

“You’re so beautiful…” he murmured softly. “Divine…” You only ignored his words and continued to pant as his fingers hit that spot inside you, a familiar sensation of a bubble building up in your lower stomach that threatened to burst if he continued his pace and motions. A loud moan ripped as he spread his fingers almost scissor like— you felt yourself getting closer and it was then you clasped your hand around his arm, your fingers shaking as your thighs trembled with his limb continuously sending pleasure to your lower stomach.

“S-Stop…” you whined. “Too much…”

To your irritation, he listened a bit too literally and ceased his movements before hesitantly removing his fingers and coating your thighs in your slick essence.

“You didn’t need to…” You began to say but halted at the shy expression on his face; you smiled before pecking him on the lips. Your hands brushed against his chest and you were suddenly startlingly aware of the fact that you were the only one undressed. With shaky legs, you stood and faced him. Your slip tumbled down and pooled around your feet, and usually you’d be left insecure but the darkness of the room gave you the confidence you needed. You swayed, and walked towards him until you were between his legs and pressed against him. “Maybe just… get undressed, and we can move to,” you paused to trace your fingers down his cheek, “other things.” You pressed a gentle kiss to the corner of his lip before moving to sit behind him on your bed.

For a few moments he remained seated before he stood up and began to strip off his tight layer of clothing, allowing it to remain a pile by his feet before turning to face you. You tried your best to keep your eyes on his own but couldn’t help but to glance down only to dart your eyes back up again.

He was big.

As if with caution, which he seemed to approach everything with, he crawled closer to you on the bed until you were face to face. Your noses touched in a butterfly kiss. “Are you sure you want me?” He asked, and for a moment you wondered if he was an idiot.

You answered him by wrapping your arms around his neck and met him in a hungry kiss. Your tongue dominated his, though part of you knew he had given you easy control. Though he circled his strong arms around you, as if you were made of glass, before he laid you on your back. His arm moved to hold himself up, whilst the other trailed down to stroke himself. He broke the kiss with a final peck before pushing his head in between the cusp of your shoulder and neck and gave you fumbled kisses. Soon he let out a whine as your hand reached down to wrap around his shaft, you could feel its hard length as you stroked him lazily before moving your hand to his hip, and guided him closer to your core.

With a shallow breath, he edged closer until he was rubbing against your heat. With the aid of his hand he began to push into you. You bit your lip at the pain and gripped his shoulder, not daring to speak knowing that he’d stop if he thought he was hurting you. The pain continued as he fully sheathed himself inside you with a low groan of pleasure. He turned his eyes to look at yours as if for confirmation before you nodded your head and wrapped your arms tighter around his neck.

He continued to pace himself as he slowly pulled his hips back and forth, with whines and moans filling the room. Soon pleasure began to build up and you arched your back as his cock swelled inside you, but the slight tinge of pain resided.

“Toshi... Go harder… You feel so good,” you murmured into his ear to which he replied with a sensual roll of his hips. You arched your back in ecstasy which allowed him to take his unoccupied arm and wrap it under the curve of your back.

“I don’t wanna—“ he continued to pace himself as he fucked into you, “— hurt you. Let me love you like this.” A quiet moan vibrated out of his chest as his thrusts got sloppier, his arms moving to gently caress your hips as he slightly kneeled for balance. Your legs only barely managed to hook around his muscled waist as he rocked into you. A shudder went down your spine as you felt his cock convulse suggesting he was near his end— and you were as well in spite of his romantically cautious pace.

His hands squeezed around your hips before he quickly moved them to the headboard as he continued to grind his hips into you with care, a whiny whimper emerged from his throat as you felt his release sputter inside you. Sweat trickled down his skin and his pupils were dilated which brought out the bright blue of his irises. For a moment, you felt that familiar schoolgirl shyness emerge as that tender smile curled around his lips— not the one he gave the press or the public, but the one that he gave to you.

You loved that smile, but a cynical part of you dwelled on the fact that you wanted more— more than you know he’d ever give.

That night you hadn’t noticed the cracks in your headboard from the sheer power of his hands, nor did you pay any mind to the fact that he edged your cunt all night, not finding any sort of release.

Not that he could help it; he was just too soft.

You used to think you loved that about him.

From that day on, he’d come by occasionally (sometimes after weeks apart, or even months) to get ‘fixed up’ which would always result in you under him writhing from the countless waves of pleasure he’d shoot through your aching body. At first it was ecstasy, getting to see his face lose its smile as he shut his eyes and rolled his hips deep into your cunt. But as the years went by you couldn’t help but always want more. In his passions, he always held you as if you’d shatter if he brought even the slightest bit of his strength to the bedroom. (It was always the bedroom, he couldn’t bare to fuck you over a table or a couch). At first you thought it was the gentleman in him, laid with guilt at the fact that he could only indulge with you in secret. But as the years went by, you began to realize you were his escape.

On the television screen, you always watched his fights as they broadcasted. You marvelled at how his smile stayed glued to his face whilst his fists collided with villains and debris. His profession was a violent one, it kept his arms raised and teeth bared all whilst breathing an ‘I am here’ to the world. It was starkly different from how he handled you, gently, not even daring to leave a hickey or bruise on your skin. You supposed that in your apartment, wrapped up in the sheets of your bed, did he ever feel he could be a loving man.

You figured that out a few years after your first time together. You, seated on his lap with his back to your headboard, slowly and deeply, sliding your hips up and bringing them back down onto his hard cock with the aid of his firm hands. His hands had always felt warm, especially as they stroked your hips soothingly whilst his soft moans fanned your collarbone. His face was flushed against your neck as he orgasmed, filling you with his cum, but you didn’t stop grinding your hips. It was then that you felt his tears slide down your skin as he moved his arms to encompass around you, sending yourself over the edge with the realization.

You didn’t overthink it— and frankly, you hoped he hadn’t realized that it was the sound of his snivelling and the thought of his tears cascading down his pretty face that sent you over the edge and made you cum hard on his cock. It was pathetic of the both of you, but the dark side of you loved seeing him act like a bitch.

However, you stayed wrapped in his arm, unmoving, until your hands went to push back his hair and cooed half heartedly (you were still half high off of your release). You never thought you’d see him cry— especially after sex, in fact, you never thought anyone had seen him cry. You felt your walls clench again, a shudder rippling through his chest whilst you warmed his cock with your heat.

“I… Love you,” he sniffled, his arms pulled you tighter to his chest. His blonde head was still buried in your neck, his words flurrying warm air to your chest.

Years ago, you would have blushed and stammered at his confession. But you only held him close, awkwardly, as he was still buried deep inside you. Although flaccid, you could feel his warmth begin to pulse as your muscle tightened.

You didn’t blush, however, because he never did confess, but the three words he did utter (you had learned) were practically synonymous over the course of your relationship.

“I… Am sorry,” he sniffled— and to you; it was the confession you were dying to hear.

Years turned into decades and you would be lying if you said you stayed faithful to him. There was a slight guilt that weighed in on your chest but that didn’t stop you from getting fucked by strangers, and even the odd co-worker or two. It was never stable, and you blamed Toshi for that. Which was likely why you felt pangs of arousal whenever you caught his eye glaring into the love bites left by other men.

That school girl crush died years ago, but you’d be damned if you ever tried to let him go.

#all might x reader #bnha #yandere #kirietownwrites #all might smut #toshinori yagi x reader #boku no hero academia #yandere BNHA

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drarrywords · 3 years ago

Text

would you?

A soft, slow music drifted in the air and the light of the enchanted ceiling cascaded a silver, beautiful glow on the room. It was a faint luminesce of the night sky. The sight of the stars - of the constellations - was, in fact, a wonder to behold.

Harry Potter, however, wasn't focused on the music or the stars. Instead, he was rather focused on Draco Malfoy, who was, without a doubt, a sight to behold. He was wearing a beautiful, black, long, one shoulder, slit dress which accented him perfectly.

Draco's hair was curled at the ends, a few strands falling over the forehead and his eyes were captured with a black eyeliner, a powder dusted on the eyelids, archly curled lashes.

He couldn't resist.

"Pansy, can I borrow your best friend for a while?" He said when he walked over to the table, eyes fixed on Draco, who was turning the glass of wine in his hand, a small smirk on the mouth. "if you don't mind, of course."

"Of course you can, sweetheart,” Pansy said as she rose from her chair, placing a small kiss on Draco's cheek. "couldn't resist, could you, Potter?"

"Pansy –" Draco warned and directed a sharp glare towards her, which she returned with a similar intensity. "can you not –”

"No, she's right," He said while he fidgeted with the sleeve absent-mindedly, staring at the blond with earnest, expectant eyes, mouth curling into a small, proud smirk when a faint pink tint started to form on Draco's face. "I couldn't resist."

"Told you he fancied the idea of you in a black dress," Pansy winked, which caused Draco to direct yet another warning glare at her. "oh, why don't you stare fondly at Harry instead?”

"Pansy, I swear, if you don't leave right now, I'll not return your dress and of course our he fancies the idea – now, can you trouble Blaise or your best friend Ginevra instead?”

"You should continue to wear the dress when Harry Potter fancies you in it.”

“Oh, I’ll wear the dress,” Draco drawled while he sipped the wine while he peered into Harry’s eyes, which caused a wild stutter in his chest. “it’s a perfect fit, isn’t it?”

"Yes, of course, now I'll find Gin and irritate her for a while - fifteen minutes only, Potter."

"Yes, woman.”

Harry turned to Draco with a faint smile while he continued to ignore the flutter in his chest when the blond returned the smile and said, "You lost a bet, didn't you?"

"Well, yes, a bet with Pansy was a bad idea and – wait, how did you know I lost a bet?"

"Pansy, for starters, might've mentioned it once or twice when we were working on a case," He said with a sigh. "she was on about a black dress for four hours," Draco shifted slightly, curling his fingers around the soft fabric. "for what it's worth, it suits you."

“I figured you were rather pleased with the view when I caught you staring,” Draco said with a small snort. “you weren’t very subtle, Potter.”

He couldn’t be subtle when Draco Malfoy was wearing a beautiful black dress which he carried with grace and oh Godric, the light make-up, specifically the eyeliner. Perfection, indeed. “Yes, I know, Malfoy.”

“Do you, now?”

"Can we -" The brunet's voice cracked while Draco lifted a brow at him and a corner of his mouth curved upward while he placed the glass of wine on the table. "Circe fuck -"

"Graceful with your words as always, Potter." He was fine with words. Yet, right then, the words had evaporated out of his mind which, by the way, was Draco’s fault. “Of course, I have that effect on you.”

“No you don’t –” He cleared his throat, carding his fingers through the unruly hair and in an uncertain, voice, he whispered, "wait, no, right now, you do,” It elicited a laugh out of Draco “it’s a rare privilege.”

“Oh, of course.”

Harry was, however, certain he wouldn’t form proper sentences for the rest of the night if he was with Draco Malfoy. “Can we –” He inched closer to the blond. “can we dance?”

"Wait, you want to -" Draco's eyes widened and the pupils dilated, mouth caught open on the soft vowel sound. "you want to dance?" A moment. “right now, in front of the others?”

"I do," He curled his fingers at Draco with a faint smile. "would you want to?"

"Oh, of course I want to," He cast a contemptuous glance around and scowled at the cameras. "the prophet, however, is a royal pain in the arse and as much as I’d love to show off the dress or the perfect make-up, the eyeliner to be rather precise –” Draco softened. “I wouldn’t want you deal with the others.”

"Draco, I want to dance with you tonight," He said with a soft sigh. "the prophet can fuck itself, plus, it'll be factual news for once and I'd rather not focus on it when I can dance with you," A beat. "can we?"

He was convinced that the front page of the prophet would contain an absurd headline with a picture of Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter. It would cause a stir. "You're certain?"

"Yes, I want to dance with you and if the prophet wants to publish fifteen articles it can," He outstretched a hand towards the blond with a small smile, "come on."

"In that case," Draco placed a hand into his and interlaced their fingers while he rose from the chair, "I'd love to dance with you." He leaned in, mouth close the brunet's ear and whispered, "but if you step on my toes, I will light you on fire, Potter."

He chuckled with a slight shake to his head, leading Draco to the centre of the room, to a place he had chosen on purpose. A place underneath a particular constellation.

When your legs don't work like they used to before and I can't sweep you off of your feet

One song drifted to another familiar one. A song he was rather fond of. It was a song he would play on the road-trips with Draco. “Oh, it’s our favourite song.”

He twirled Draco around once, laced the fingers with Draco’s and placed the left hand on his waist in a firm, yet gentle grip. “It’s – yeah.”

‘And, darling, I will be loving you 'til we're 70 and, baby, my heart could still fall as hard at 23 and I'm thinking 'bout how’

Draco tilted his head to the ceiling, perhaps to offer a distraction, and a small, soft smile formed on his face. "On purpose?"

"We're dancing underneath the Draco constellation, of course it's on purpose."

"I'm flattered."

Harry peered into the startling grey eyes while he swirled to the music with Draco and felt a faint flutter in the chest, which wouldn’t cease. “You dance well.”

He drew Draco closer and for a few seconds, he couldn’t find the words while he swayed to the music in a slow pace. “Oh, it is?”

‘People fall in love in mysterious ways, maybe just the touch of a hand.’

Or maybe just a slow dance.

"Mhm, yes." Draco said with a short laugh while they turned to the rhythm. For once, it felt like there were less eyes on them. Like there was just one single tree in the forest.

Harry, however, had no desire to cast a glance around. Instead, he focused on Draco. On the silver eyes, the softest smile which graced his lips and the light of the stars above dancing on his pale skin.

He was enchanted, his body moving in along in tandem of it's own accord and it caused a warmth to surge through him. He felt content for once.

He felt a breath claw of his throat and the confidence returned in him while he dipped the blond to the floor in accordance with the music. He did not, however, raise him up. “Is it the right moment to mention how beautiful you look tonight?”

“It’s always the right moment to mention how beautiful I am, Potter.”

‘So honey now, take me into your loving arms and kiss me under the light of a thousand stars.’

“Godric, Draco,” He lifted the blond up with a small smile and drew him closer, "You're perfect," He raised a slightly trembling hand to Draco's face and his thumb across his cheekbone, "I could dance with you to our favourite song forever."

Draco leaned into the touch and closed his eyes for a brief second. "I wish you would."

He couldn't confess that he wanted to. Or that it wasn't for tonight. Yet, he couldn't find the words. Perhaps, it was purely platonic and he didn't want to screw it up. Not now.

He retracted his hand and continued to dance. The air which was comfortable a moment ago, turned taut.

Place your head on my beating heart, I'm thinking out loud, Maybe we found love right where we are

"Would you?"

"Would I, what?" Harry said with a small, confused frown while he slowed the pace.

"If I said I want you to dance with me forever or if I want you to kiss me under the light of the thousand ceiling stars," Draco whispered, in a soft, vulnerable voice, "would you?"

Perhaps, it was love that was stuck there in his throat, if the rambling passion he felt for him that he couldn't form words, "Draco I -"

The blond leaned closer and curled his fingers around Harry's neck, mouth an inch away from his. "Kiss me."

The brunet's gaze flickered to Draco's lips and back to his eyes. He wanted to. He had wanted to for years. Now, he had the chance - so, he placed a single finger under Draco's chin and the nervousness he was so prone to feeling washed out of him like a tidal wave, flooding from the tips of his fingers and crashing out of his mouth as it parted in the slightest way, almost invisible.

Harry enclosed his lips on Draco’s; soft yet immersive, gentle yet powerful all the same.

Harry paused, only to whisper softly against his mouth, "I would."

y'all, it's 2:30 AM and I'll pass tf out now.

Plus, I wrote it because "Anon" said I should stop writing, which I won't. Deal with it.

#drarry #drarrywords #draco malfoy #harry potter #hogwarts #drarry fanfic #drarry oneshot #gryffindor #magic #slytherin #i should be sleeping #why the fuck do i write at night #i'm never satisfied #never ask me to stop writing #i'm done

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fluffy-bunbunny · 3 years ago

Note

What is the complete storyline? Is Valentino an abusive ass in this one 2? If so, why does Angel let him around Whitey? And why does Alastor treat him the way he does?

Part 1:

Valentino took Angel Dust and made him a star.

He surrounded Angel with his cigarette smoke and promised him all the riches of hell if he worked obediently for him, he just had to say "yes" to everything and be a very submissive boy.

Drugs ran through his blood. He couldn't live without inhaling that red smoke, Angel needed it in his life, if he didn't breathe it, became nervous, depressed and hysterical.

Being close to Valentino was the only thing that made him happy and he would endure any abuse for his dose of drugs.

Angel worked hard to earn a position as his right hand man and also a position in the heart of the Moth. His life was drugs, fame and money, Valentino adored Angel and was about to confess.

Angel was sickly in love, dependent, would have done anything to make him happy... But he made a mistake that would cost him everything.

Valentino lost a lot of money, territory and fame, because of a mission that Angel failed and Valentino swore by his life that Angel was going to give him back every dollar that he lost because of his mistake.

Angel Dust was overexploited to the point of fainting, consuming more drugs every day to stay on his feet and earn Valentino's forgiveness. He cursing himself every day, every second for having defrauded in this way the one he had "saved" him from poverty and had made him a recognized star.

The debt went on and on growing. As time went by, Valentino added disproportionate interests with which he kept Angel in misery. Their relationship was totally broken and Vox entered the game.

So many years passed. Still, Angel Dust thought there would come a point where Val would forgive him and they would have that beautiful dream relationship again, that idealized relationship, for which he cried every night.

Sales began to drop, Valentino proposed as a novelty to turn Angel into a woman and reach a new audience. Angel was terrified at the idea, but he would do anything... to please Valentino.

Many experiments later, it was possible, Angel Dust would now be a woman. She would shoot straight porn for a limited time and that would boost sales. Val was beaming, happy and that made Angel happy too.

Angel was still very sore from all the experiments they did on him... Although for Val there was nothing that some sex would not solve and Angel enjoyed the few times that Valentino was kind.

Angel Dust returned to the Happy Hotel, to recover and get used to her new body.

Alastor has always been an egocentric who only thinks about himselft, but seeing Angel in his new body caused him curiosity, and he approached to find out more; he unconsciously acted as a cordial and polite man, the feminine essence made him lower his guard. Angel in his new body made him more friendly, as he always was with women, a cordial and educated man.

A drink, a few caresses, one thing led to another. It was nothing out of the ordinary, just a one night stand.

Cap 2 The recordings were going very well, but Angel felt bad, dizzy, disgusted and somewhat weak. He went to the doctor and received the horrible news: an unwanted pregnancy.

Angel was very sure it was Valentino's, because he was the first to "taste" his new body.

They tried to abort him in a thousand ways, cause for them it was only a hindrance, but Angel's body was not resisting: weak, thin and sunk in drugs... And Valentino was not going to lose his source of income.

Although it did not seem like it, after the initial shock the idea didn't seem so bad. Valentino, in his egocentricity, wanted to leave offsprings and have a "Mini-Me", he wanted something of his own blood, something made by himself and the more time passed, the more he got excited about the idea.

Angel… He was happy to make Valentino happy and he dreamed of a family, a good family, not like the one he had in human life, a family with parents who would love his children.

This new beginning brought Val and Angel back together, who began to reconcile, fantasizing about a happy and powerful family.

Even so, Angel Dust didn't stop doing porn and only added the tag “pregnant”.

The expected day arrived, after a long wait a little white-haired male baby was born in hell. Angel returned to his masculine form immediately after that.

A soft fluff surrounding his neck… And deer ears decorated his head.

Valentino didn't take the news well at all, he felt betrayed and used, exploded in anger.

He had them both killed.

Angel Dust, using all of his strength, took off running towards the Happy Hotel, with Valentino shooting to kill and with Vox's dogs hot on his heels.

He barely managed to arrive, exhausted and broken, just in time to reach Alastor's arms and ask for asylum, who didn't understand anything, but would not let Valentino, least of all Vox, were to cause problems in his hotel.

Big was his surprise when he found out that this little boy was his son, someone with whom he never had a single connection, who only had a one night stand, came to bring him his little newborn.

After the chaos, Charlie took Angel and the little one in, while Alastor made sure to guard the place without letting Valentino carry out revenge on him.

days passed and Angel thought about killing his own son if it brought him Valentino's forgiveness, but he knew it, nothing could heal such a broken relationship.

On his side, Alastor avoided getting close to Angel and the little boy, not knowing how to react and how to take on his fatherly role, watching them from afar and stalking them around the hotel.

Alastor made it clear to the pimp and his square-faced lover that if anything happened to his son's 'mother', he would destroy them without thinking.

Knowing that they couldn't kill him, but Val and Vox came up with a good plan to keep making his life miserable.

Cap 3 Final.

Val demanded that Angel return to work as soon as he could, so he would continue to exploit him and make his life miserable, knowing that in the end he wasn't in a relationship with the red demon and a deal... It's a deal: all Angel belonged to Valentino by contract.

Alastor made it clear to the pimp that if anything happened to the spider, he would eat his body for dinner.

Little by little Alastor got closer to Angel (not in a romantic way) to get to know his little one better. After some debate, he ended up being named White: on one hand a name that sounded appropriate for Alastor and on the other hand, for being a nickname for cocaine (White dust, White powder, White rock). His little one "Whitey".

(Here I make a clarification, that there was never an agreement on the name in general and Whitey's first name is Alastor Jr)

Alastor Jr White.

... But White hates it and prefers to be called Whitey, Witty, Whitie, etc)

Angel didn't want to make Alastor uncomfortable, he didn't even trust him, as he felt that it would be easier for the Lord to eat Whitey than to bear an unwanted child with someone like him.

Somewhat overprotective and without wanting to get away from his baby, he preferred to take Whitey to work, leaving him in charge of other porn actresses while he worked. Whittie was still a months old baby and he wouldn't remember or know what was going on around him.

Thus, Whitey's childhood was spent in the arms of actresses and prostitutes. Angel just came out of filming, took a shower and ran to pick up his son.

Valentino avoided Angel because he felt that if he saw him he would destroy his face with rage, but he never imagined meeting the little one.

The girls huddled together to give affection to that small and tender being, they filled him with kisses with lipstick and hugged him with the smell of cheap cologne, remembering their children they had in life. He started to be a "everyone's son" in the studio.

The pimp was curious about the situation and went to see, running into the baby. He had angry feelings when he saw him, he had waited for him for so long, he had wanted him and he had even bought things for his arrival and now he was in front of him... But It wasn't his son, yet Val had loved him for so long that the feeling couldn't go away easily.

Valentino took him in his arms and felt something inside him, White smiled for him and wagged his tail happily.

When Angel Dust finished filming, he saw Valentino surrounded by the other actresses with his baby in his arms, laughing loudly and playing with him. His heart clenched at the thought that he could hurt him... but he didn't, he looked happy and Whitey too.

Despite the fright, Angel couldn't refuse to let Valentino approach Whitie, because he would get in trouble with the pimp, so he just stayed on the sidelines, making sure that the little one didn't enrage the madman who was his boss.

As a result, Angel, Val and Whitt began to spend time together, creating a false sense of 'happy family', one where Angel would see Valentino smile daily at this new 'toy' he gave birth to for him.

The one who was not happy was Vox, who had made a baby specifically for Valentino (Bytez), to fulfill his frustrated dream of being a father, but Valentino had cruelly rejected him after becoming fond with Whittie.

On his side, Alastor promised to give his son the best possible life.

He placed high expectations on him, relying on his ego in wanting to raise him as someone faultless, Alastor wanted him to be perfect, a worthy son of him, one that people admired and feared, a powerful being like him who could dominate the masses.

Whitey was still a baby but Alastor saw a lot of potential. Knowing that Angel was taking him to his work was not to his liking, much less knowing that his son was in the hands of someone like Valentino.

When he was barely old enough to learn, Whitey passed into the hands of Alastor, who gave him tutors and teachers, molding him from a young age with a strict regimen.

Alastor's high expectations destroyed his bond with Whitie, always demanding more of him, always demanding a perfection that he couldn't achieve. In his youth, he did't know how to shoot a weapon (and when he learned he had a horrible aim) he didn't hide his feelings behind a smile like him, he was explosive and affectionate, he had a hard time controlling his inner power. Spending father and son time was a headache for both of them: always fighting, always arguing, too different to get along.

Alastor saw his son as a disappointment and even as a danger, because he had to control that his bad temper didn't cause greater havoc, controlling the power in him.

Unlike Valentino, the pimp loved to see Whitey be destructive, be messy and boisterous, be dirty and annoying. He loved taking him to fast food and limousine rides, using him as a weapon for his enemies, watching him tear people apart and bathe his white skin in blood, watching him devour his victims like a wild animal.

Val gave him the acceptance and attention that Alastor denied him since he was a child, the paternal hugs, the words of encouragement, hearing him say "I'm proud of you", "you are the king" "you can achieve what you propose".

And so was his life, between the studio and the happy hotel. Loving Angel, hating Alastor and loving his “uncle / stepfather” Valentino.

#long text #hazbin hotel alastor #Hazbin hotel Valentino #Angel dust #Fluffy Deer #3vBot #Radiodust #Valangel #oc lore

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sorryicantquitequeeryou · 3 years ago

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Just finished watching Arcane

Overall thoughts:

Complex world building with a great soundtrack, vivid colors, beautiful art style, and fluid animation. Interesting characters. Many stories colliding into one.

Now into the more interpersonal opinions and such...

⚠️ SPOILERS BELOW THIS POINT ⚠️

Powder/Jinx is by far my favorite main character. I went into the show knowing very little, other than people seem to have a preference for Vi and that Jinx is probably a villain.

Starting off with them as kids for the first few episodes made it difficult for me to get into the story right away, oddly enough. Probably because I knew that there was going to be a time skip at some point. I quickly guessed that Powder would end up as Jinx, just wasn't quite sure how. I guessed it based off of her facial expressions actually, not just the blue hair.

Powder was definitely my favorite of the kiddos right off the bat. I also had this inexplicable harsh feeling towards Jinx until I actually met her. I was worried about what her character would be. I had only seen art of her being smiley and mischievous which, for whatever reason, rubbed me the wrong way. (Even though I love other characters and villains for the same trait) Once I saw Jinx and her flashes of manic, panic, PTSD... Well I was sold. Watching her struggles and her smile appear and disappear. Her facial expressions, her emotions through trauma... I loved it all. Which is quite funny because as Powder was smiling when she got blasted off the building, I was worried that align that moment the Jinx I was dreading would form.

Vi is a good character as well, but I feel she had a lot less growth, we don't get to see into her trauma as much. It feels as though there's a wall up. We only get to see her love, responsibility, and care for her sister. Plus her anger of course. And later her fondness of "Cupcake", aka Caitlyn.

My other favorite character isn't quite a main one but I think may become one: Victor. I can't really explain why. At first I was unsure about him, but when he showed his inventive side I quickly grew attached. Little did I know he was probably going to be the first to bite the dust. Of course his limp was something more. Never choose a favorite character because they will always die. :(

Ekko is an amazing character as well! I can't wait to see what he and the Firelights can accomplish! I have high hopes for him.

#arcane #arcane caitlyn #arcane firelights #arcane powder #arcane violet #arcane vi #arcane victor #arcane jinx #arcane ekko #my post #show review

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fitzs-trained-monkey · 3 years ago

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Chapter One: Lonely Together

Jack Kline x OC

Rated: PG

~I might hate myself tomorrow

But I'm on my way tonight

Let's be lonely together

A little less lonely together~

Sent: 10:52 PM

Merry Christmas, stranger. I hope yours is as bright as new fallen snow. Stay warm.

I smiled down at my phone before clicking it off and slipping it into my pocket. I didn't know who I had sent the message to. It was just a number I had punched in at random. I didn't expect anyone to reply.

Wrapping my dark green cardigan tighter around my body, I pulled my knees in closer to my chest and pressed myself closer against the wall of the bakery. The wall was only slightly warmer than the frigid air around me. It was December 2nd and icy gales were blowing in from Lake Superior and stinging the skin of the city's occupants.

The sky hung dark, low, and flat over Copper Harbor, Michigan. Copper Harbor was an itty-bitty town at the northern most tip of the northernmost part of Michigan. You know that piece of land that's only connected to the mainland by a highway, that in-between place that really should be Canada, but isn't? That's where Copper Harbor is and that's where I was.

Copper Harbor was the sort of town where newcomers and visitors are as common as flying pigs and are treated with about as much scrutiny. It's not one of those small, friendly towns just off the highway; the ones that are pleasant to find yourself in if you've taken a wrong turn. It's quite the feat to get lost and turn up in Copper Harbor, considering its miles away from anything and everything remotely interesting, unless you're searching for Bigfoot or a drunk Canadian that took a wrong turn. Though those two things might just end up being one and the same. No, nobody came to Copper Harbor unless they had a reason. That's just the sort of place it was. And aside from the mind-numbing cold, it was exactly the sort of place I wanted to be.

The clouds were so heavy with the snow that now drifted down, dusting everything in a layer of fine white powder, it seemed that someone standing on even the lowest rooftop could reach up and touch them. The snowflakes raining down from those clouds gave the appearance of tiny shooting stars. Many would have found the sight beautiful. I didn't. I just found it cold and somewhat depressing. Some people say that shooting stars are angels, falling to the earth to bless the lives of people in need. I've never liked those sorts of stories. The stars belong in the heavens. The dust belongs on the earth. Collecting in puddles, the sparkling, sugar-like ice crystals did nothing to ease the bitter cold. I shivered and coughed, my breath fogging in front of me.

I should have frozen to death hours ago.

But I can't die. At least, not that way.

Suffering, on the other hand, I can do that to no end.

I put my head between my knees, hoping to retain what little heat my walking corpse had to offer. I struggled to remain conscious. The story of the little-match-girl was playing in my head. I'd never liked that story's ending. Hallucinations really weren't my thing, especially hallucinations about things I tried not to think about, the things I tried to burry in the farthest corners of my mind. I had to distract myself, to think about anything that would keep me awake. The problem was, there was nothing to distract me.

Pling!

My phone buzzed in my pocket with a text. I grasped it quickly, greedy for a distraction, but I paused upon seeing the number displayed upon the screen. It was that number I had texted the Merry Christmas message to. Whoever it was had texted me back. I unlocked my phone and peered at the mystery person's message.

Received: 11:18 PM

Merry Christmas to you as well!

The message read. I smiled a little, surprised that anyone would care to return my quiet Christmas wish. The screen of my phone lit up with another message.

Received: 11:19 PM

Who are you?

The question was a simple one. Though tone can often be difficult to infer over written text, the question seemed to bear no hostility, only innocent curiosity. I thought for a bit about what to say, the answer was not as simple as the question had implied.

***

Located quite literally one thousand miles away from Copper Harbor, was the small, out-of-the-way town of Lebanon, Kansas. Now, in the outskirts Lebanon there was a hill. The hill was modestly sized and carpeted with thick grass painted with a layer of frost. Although it was a rather pleasant sight for some stray hiker to find, the hill was really quite unremarkable. That is, if you ignored the hulking steel door built into the side of it that looked like the entrance to a post-apocalyptic hobbit hole. See, built under that hill there was a bunker. It looked like any ordinary bunker if one can ever describe a bunker as ordinary. But inside this ordinary looking bunker, sat something rather extraordinary and his name was Jack.

Jack Kline was quite happy where he was. Sitting with his legs crossed on a chair beside the bunker's fireplace, Jack held Sam's beloved lap-top between his knees. Sam let him borrow it on the nights he couldn't sleep. Those nights were many. Sleepless nights were one of the many side effects of being half-angel, but he didn't really mind. Jack wasn't overly fond of sleep, not like Sam or Dean who adored the few hours they got. Jack would much rather be awake because if he was asleep then he couldn't observe. He liked to observe. He loved learning. He loved taking in anything and everything going on around him, soaking it all up like a sponge with legs. He especially loved to soak up a story. Epic ones with heroes that defeat powerful villains. Jack loved stories.

So, no; Jack Kline was not overly fond of sleep. No, Jack preferred to just sit quietly and watch those epic stories as they played out in front of him on the screen of Sam's lap-top.

Currently, he was watching Star Wars: The Clone Wars. The computer had said he would like it, and the computer had been right. He had just finished season 2 and had begun on season 3. Some small voice in the back of his mind told him he should slow down and draw the series out a little longer, but Jack just couldn't find the will to do so. This story was just too good to stop. Jack shoved a hand full of popcorn in his mouth as he pressed the play button on the next episode. He had managed to sneak several bags of popcorn from the kitchen and into the secret stash in his room a few nights earlier. It was perfect, except popcorn needed to be popped and popping the kernels without attracting notice was a bit of a challenge. But he found that if he popped them during the day, when everyone was clamoring about and busy with whatever, the noise from the popping kernels wouldn't peak any suspicion. The only downside to his strategy was that it left him with cold popcorn. Though this too could be remedied via his angel powers, if he was careful about it, he could warm up the popcorn undetected.

Now, don't get the impression that Jack was being starved, or held in this bunker against his will, or something awful like that. As was mentioned before, Jack was very happy there. The Winchesters, Sam and Dean, and the angel Castiel, lived there with him and took care of him. They were his family and Jack loved them. The only reason he had a secret stash at all was because Sam was the only one in the bunker who cared about the importance of having a somewhat healthy diet. Whereas Dean let the boy eat pretty much anything he wanted and Cas- well in Cas's mind food was food and that's all there was to it. But Sam didn't like it when he caught Jack eating what he referred to as 'junk food'.

Somehow, Sam always caught him.

"That stuff’ll rot your teeth, Jack!" He'd sigh, as he'd flip on the kitchen light and catch Jack eating cereal sometime around midnight. Then he'd look at Jack with a disappointed look on his face until Jack threw the cereal away and went back to bed. Jack hated it when Sam looked at him like that, he just couldn't bear to let the Winchesters down.

But Jack loved to eat. Eating was enjoyable as it brought with it something new every time. Yet more things to absorb and to experience. Although the younger Winchester disapproved of the more sugary foods; Jack liked those a whole lot more than the salads Sam tried to get him to eat. Jack didn't like the salads or 'Rabbit Food' as Dean called it. No, Jack liked popcorn a quite a bit more.

He smiled as he brought another handful into his mouth. Yes, Jack Kline quite enjoyed eating.

Plip! Ploop!

Jack's head swiveled away from the screen to stare at the phone laying face-up on the arm rest of the chair in which he sat. The screen was alight with a text message. He picked up the phone and unlocked it. The message read:

Received: 10:52 PM

Merry Christmas, stranger. I hope yours is as bright as new fallen snow. Stay warm.

That was all. Jack was quite confused; he didn't know that number. Who had sent the text? What should he do? Should he say something back?

Curiosity and caution struggled in a match tug-of-war in his head. He wanted to know who the message had come from. He wanted to know why that person had sent it. He also wanted to know why he had a strange feeling that whoever had sent the message was horribly sad. But would the Winchesters be mad at him if he answered? Sam and Dean had given him the phone just a few days earlier.

"For emergencies," Sam had said as he laid the device in Jack's hand before resuming his packing. Jack had stared at it, rather confused as to its purpose. Castiel had been off somewhere doing something and Sam and Dean had been leaving for a hunt, leaving him alone which Dean was completely and utterly against.

"Only for emergencies," Dean had stressed, jabbing his finger in Jack's general direction as he inspected various articles of clothing before tossing them into a duffle bag. "That means don't text or call unless someone is breaking in or you're dying!"

Sam shot his older brother a warning look. Dean ignored it and pulled a pair of socks out of his dresser, sniffing them briefly before making a face and chucking them to the other side of the room. Jack looked back down at the small black rectangle in his palm.

"Okay so, only text or call in case there's an emergency. Got it." Jack clinched the thin black box between his thumb and forefinger, carefully lifting it up as if it might explode in his face. "But, one question, if something happens like-like you said, like somebody breaking in or me dying, how-how would I do that?" He asked, looking back at the two brothers. They both froze their hasty packing and pivoted to stare at him, their eyebrows raised with disbelieving question.

"What?" Dean asked the young Nephilim. Jack shrank away a little, not wanting to upset the older Winchester.

"How do I text or call you? I don't know how to do that," Jack had timidly replied. Dean just shook his head and returned to over-stuffing the duffle. Sam, however, was much more understanding.

"That's right, you-you don't, do you?" Sam asked, realizing his mistake. Jack turned his attention to the younger of the brothers, shaking his head in an answer to Sam's question.

"Unbelievable," Dean muttered, rolling his eyes. Sam shot him another glare which Dean merely shrugged off.

"Well, come on then, I'll teach you," Sam had said. Jack watched as Sam set the contacts and explained how everything worked. He showed Jack how to send a text, how to dial and answer a call, and all the other things Jack would need to know. Jack just watched him and took note of every little thing. Watching and replicating was how Jack learned best.

"Now, if I don't answer my phone, you call Dean. But if he doesn't pick up, I want you to call me again, if I still don't answer a second time, I want you to call this number right here. That's Jody Mills, she's a friend of ours and she'll help you, alright? You get all that?" Sam finished explaining and looked for Jack to confirm his understanding. Jack nodded.

"I got it!" He said, enthusiastically. Sam gave the young boy a nervous smile.

"You do? Can you repeat it back to me?" Sam asked Jack the question the same way Sam and Dean's father had always asked them.

"If something happens, call you, and if you don't answer, call Dean. If Dean doesn't answer then I call you again, but if you still don't pick up, then call Jody Mills." Jack repeated all of Sam's instructions perfectly, grinning proudly at the younger Winchester when he finished. Sam laughed a little, but nerves twinged his voice.

"Good, yeah. Okay," Sam paused, thinking things over, "You know what, Jack? If neither of us answer your call and it's really that urgent, don't bother calling me a second time. Just call Jody right away if you can't get through to either of us. Alright?"

"Alright!" Jack nodded, grinning. Sam nodded back, stiffly.

"Alright." He seemed like he wanted to say something else but didn't know how to say it.

"You two done in there, Sammy?! We gotta go!" Dean called, walking in from another room. Sam stood and looked at his brother.

"Uh, yeah. I think we're good," He took a few steps towards the stairs that lead up to the door before pausing and turning back to Jack, "We're good, right? You're gonna be okay here by yourself?" Sam asked again. Jack grinned and gave him a thumbs up.

"I'll be fine. You don't have to worry."

Sam nodded and smiled with so much nervousness it almost hurt to watch.

"Okay, good. It's good. We're good," He said, nodding and trying to reassure himself more than anyone else. Dean raised an eyebrow at his overly anxious little brother, tugging his old leather jacket on over his shoulders, but he didn't say anything. Instead, he directed his remarks at Jack.

"Hey, kid. Whatever you do, don't do anything stupid," He'd said, half glaring, "We'll be back in a few days." Then they'd left.

Now, Jack glanced back down at the phone in his hands, remembering Dean's warning about not doing anything stupid. But his curiosity regarding the sender of the message was overwhelming. It couldn't hurt to text this person back, right? Was that what Dean had meant by his warning? Did this count as something stupid? What was the worst that could happen? Deciding that the benefits outweighed the risks, he texted back.

Sent: 10:18 PM

Merry Christmas to you as well!

Jack wrote.

Sent: 10:19 PM

Who are you?

No sooner had asked his question, he began to worry that he might have sounded rude. He waited with anticipation for the mystery person to reply. He didn't have to wait long.

Received: 10:20 PM

It doesn't matter, you don't know me.

I'm just someone wanting to give you a warm holiday wish.

Jack frowned. Again, he got the distinct feeling that the person on the other side of this conversation was deeply saddened by something. He desperately wanted to know what. So, he did the thing he did best. He asked and waited to see what would happen.

***

Received: 11:21 PM

If you don't know me, why do you care?

I don't mean to be rude. I'm just curious.

Why do this?

I read the person's question once, then twice, then three times and I realized that I didn't have an answer. Why did I care? Why was I texting some random person a Christmas wish? For all I knew, this person may not even observe the holiday. I had so many of my own things to worry about I was nearly drowning in them. I didn't know this person. I had nothing to do with them. So, why did I care about their holiday season? Why was I doing this?

I told myself it was just a random act of kindness. But deep down I knew what the reason was, and even if I didn't want to think about it, I felt it in my heart. I was doing this for the same reason I did everything. So, I took a few moments and came up with a reply.

Sent: 11:25 PM

I'm doing this because I believe that no one should ever have to be alone,

especially during the holidays.

I sent my reply and remembered to keep on shivering. I could hardly feel the cold anymore, I had gone almost completely numb. But I knew if I didn't keep moving, I would surely freeze in place and be unable to move until spring came. I vaguely wondered how cold it was. I remembered having heard on someone's car radio that this was supposed to be the coldest winter Michigan had experienced in the last decade. Though winter had only just begun, it was already cold enough for the district council to be suggesting face coverings to prevent citizens from getting frostbite and losing their nose.

I sneezed. I had no such face covering. Hell! I didn't even have a jacket! Let alone a coat or anything mildly warm. All I had was my oversized green cardigan, my black Star Wars t-shirt and my black jeans. That was it. Yet here I sat, outside a bakery in well below freezing temperatures, shivering myself into next decade.

I could go to a shelter. At least there I wouldn't have to endure the bitter biting of the wind as it gushed with double its normal force through these tight, abandoned alleyways. But if I went to a shelter then there was no chance of leaving undetected, I reminded myself. No, it was better to stay here, cold and alone, than to risk human contact.

I was pulled from my thoughts by another pling from my phone. Another message from that unknown contact.

Received: 11: 27

Are you alone?

Again, the question was simple. And although the mere thought hurt like a knife twisting in a fresh wound, I looked around at the dark, trash littered alleyway I sat in, watching the scattered rags of paper flutter and tumble in the winter gales, and I looked at the brutally beautiful puddles of speckled ice gathering along my body and melting on my skin, and I examined the bleak night sky, choked starless by the drifting dreary clouds; and the utterly silent stillness of the sleeping city revealed the harsh reality of my answer.

No one was here.

Nobody cared.

Not even the stars would keep me company. Because the stars never cared who I was.

So, with no reason to keep the truth hidden. I answered the question honestly.

Sent: 11: 29 PM

Yes.

Sent: 11: 30 PM

I am alone.

I was completely and utterly alone.

***

Received: 10: 30 PM

I am alone.

Once again Jack got the distinct impression that these words carried a heavy burden. It made him frown. What could he do to help a person he didn't even know? He wanted to ask this person if they had any friends, but something about those words told him the answer. When this person had said they were alone, Jack got the feeling they weren't just talking about the current moment. But maybe that's what this person needed. Maybe they needed a friend.

Sent: 10: 32 PM

Well, I'll be your friend and talk to you. There, now you're not alone anymore!

Jack smiled as he sent the text. The reply didn't take long.

Received: 10: 33 PM

Thank you.

You don't have waste your time on me but thank you.

It didn't take any special powers to read in between the lines this time, anyone could see the sadness in those words. Though Jack wasn't sure if it was his powers causing that strange feeling or if he was just imagining things.

Sent: 10:34 PM

I don't mind. Really!

Besides, I don't have anyone to talk to either.

Received: 10: 35 PM

Well, in that case, we can be lonely together!

Jack grinned. He'd made himself a friend. He couldn't wait to get to know them.

***

Received: 11: 36 PM

Since we're friends now, what's your name?

I smiled down at my new mystery friend's message. There was something about the words that made them seem innocent and earnest. It couldn't hurt to give my name, right? It’s not like he could find me. After all, I'm supposed to be dead.

Sent: 11: 37 PM

My name is Martina.

I sent my name and waited for the response. It came quickly.

Received: 11: 38 PM

I like your name Martina!

It's very pretty.

I flinched as I read the text. Something about seeing my name written in the text brought me back to a conversation with a different person a long time ago. It was a painful memory, and I didn't want to see it anymore. I didn't want another reminder of the still bleeding wounds in my heart. I remembered why I didn't let anyone call me that name anymore.

Sent: 11: 39 PM

Thank you.

But I would prefer you call me Marty.

I didn't want to be so sensitive to things like this, but I just couldn't help it.

Received: 11: 40 PM

Alright! I like Marty too.

It's a fun name.

I smiled; grateful they didn't ask why it was so important that they called me by a nickname.

Sent: 11: 41 PM

Thanks for understanding.

So, what's your name?

Received: 11: 42 PM

My name is Jack!

I grinned to myself. I'd made me a friend. I just couldn't wait to get to know him.

Sent: 11: 43 PM

Heya, Jack!

It’s nice to meet you!

I think this is the beginning of a wonderful friendship.

Received: 11: 44 PM

I agree, Marty. We are going to be great friends!

Sent: 11: 45 PM

So, what's your favorite movie?

And just like that, we talked until the sun came up. And suddenly, for the first time in quite a while, I wasn't completely alone.

***

"Hey, uh, Jack? We're back!"

Sam's voice drifted in from just outside Jack's bedroom door. Jack was surprised. He hadn't heard the brothers come in which, for him, was quite peculiar.

The door creaked open and Jack hastily attempted to pretend like he hadn't been using the phone.

He failed.

Miserably.

The device slipped from his hand and he fumbled to catch it before it smashed against the grey, polished concrete floor. He let out a sigh of relief as he snatched it just in time.

Sam peered around the door, checking in on Jack, who was now hanging halfway off his bed and clutching the phone. Scrambling to sit upright, Jack gave Sam a half-panicked smile.

"Hi Sam!" He waved a greeting, shoving his phone behind his back. Sam raised his eyebrows in a questioning expression and stepped into the room, shutting the door behind him. He folded his arms and leaned back on his heels.

"Hey Jack," Sam seemed a little distracted, "Have you seen Cas?" He asked. Jack shook his head vigorously.

"He's not back yet," He answered. Sam nodded and started to leave before stopping and turning back. Only now seeming to notice Jack's odd behavior. Sam gestured at the phone hidden behind the boys back,

"So, what were you doing in here just now?" Jack's eyes flew wide as quarters and his gaze shifted rapidly around the room, focusing on anywhere but Sam. His mind was working overtime trying to find a viable excuse.

"Uhhhh...Nothing!" Jack tried; his brain had gone blank. Sam raised an eyebrow.

"You sure about that?" Sam leaned forward a little, narrowing his eyes. Jack leaned back to match; his face scrunched up with the guilt he was trying very hard to hide. Everyone in the bunker knew how terrible Jack was at lying. He might be able to pass a few simple fibs by a stranger, but his family saw through him like he was made of glass. He couldn't deceive them. But that didn't stop him from trying, however.

"Yes..." Jack said slowly, his eyebrows pulling together in a rather sad attempt at looking sincere.

"Jack, what were you doing?" Sam asked more sternly. Jack looked at his feet and didn't answer. His shoulders moved up and down in a shrug.

"Do I have to go get Dean?" Sam pressed. Now Jack's head shot up. He stretched his hands out in a pleading gesture.

"No, no! Don't tell Dean!" Jack begged. Sam's expression shifted into one of concern.

"If you tell me, I won't tell Dean." Sam agreed, moving to sit on the bed beside Jack who shifted to give him some space. Sam waited patiently for the young Nephilim to speak. Jack kept his head down and rubbed his hands together nervously as he tried to think of how he should explain himself.

"Well, last night I was watching Netflix when I got this text from somebody wishing me a merry Christmas-" He started.

"Someone we know?" Sam asked, interrupting. Jack shook his head and continued.

"I asked them why they would do that, and they said it was because they thought that nobody should be alone this time of year. So, I asked if they were alone and they said, yes ─" Jack looked the younger Winchester in the eyes ─

"I don't know why but I just got this- this feeling, and they sounded just so sad, and now we're friends! But Dean said not to do anything stupid, and now I'm worried that I did! Are you mad?" Jack finished, worry coloring his features. Sam blinked. Once again astounded by the size of the half-angel's heart, he shook his head.

"No, Jack. I'm not mad," He said, softly.

"Really?"

"Really. I think you did a good thing. Everyone needs a friend." Sam patted Jack's shoulder and smiled. Jack looked down, grinning to himself as pride filled his chest.

Sam waited a moment before getting up from the bed. Stretching his back out and groaning a bit as he stood. It had been almost 48 hours since he last slept, and he was more than ready for a long nap. His hand rested on the doorknob and he paused a moment before turning back around.

"Hey, uh, Jack. Just one more thing. Do you by chance know this person's name?" Sam asked. Jack looked up briefly before looking back at the floor again, trying to hide the embarrassment creeping up to stain his cheeks.

"It's, uh, it's Marty," He replied. Sam nodded and moved to leave again but he stopped. His eyebrows pulled down with confusion before he turned back.

"And uh, is that a boy's name or a girl's name? Do you know?" Jack turned his head a bit to the side and picked at a thread in his jeans.

"Does it matter?" He questioned back. Truthfully, it didn't. Sam wouldn't make Jack stop if he didn't want to. But to say that the boy's current evasive behavior didn't pique his interest, would be a lie. Though, the kid’s flushed cheeks told him quite a bit about the answer.

"It doesn't matter," Sam said, shrugging, "I'm just curious is all." The tall man watched the boy's reaction. Jack nodded and shifted as if uncomfortable.

"Marty's a girl." He answered, trying to force his voice into sounding nonchalant. And failing.

"Okay, cool." Sam nodded, turning around again, and reaching for the handle. Jack's head whipped around.

"Wait, Sam!"

Sam looked over his shoulder.

"Hmm?"

"Don't. Tell. Dean!" Jack stressed. Urgency was evident in his voice. Sam huffed a laugh.

"Okay, Jack." With that, Sam pulled open the door and walked out letting the heavy steel swing shut behind him. Behind the door, Jack sighed with relief. He'd dodged a bullet with that one.

Walking a ways down the hall, Sam got to Dean's room where his older brother was now unpacking. The younger brother leaned on the door frame and expelled the laughter he'd been holding on to since Jack’s room. Dean turned around, holding a pistol and a pair of weeks old and hopelessly blood caked socks in his hands, he faced Sam with a questioning look.

"What's got you so giggly all of a sudden?" The older of the brother's asked.

Dean glanced at the pair of socks in his hand. He grimaced at the stench and held them further away from his face, trying not to breathe. It didn't work. The socks odor was so pungent, Dean could smell them through his mouth. There was no hope of washing them. Nope, those things would have to be burned. Though, taking another whiff of them, Dean wasn't sure that even incinerating the socks would do him much good now. The stomach-turning stink would be branded into his memory forever. Sam straightened up, shaking his head of shoulder length hair.

"It's just something Jack said." Sam smiled and laughed again before taking notice of the unholy stench wafting off the socks. He coughed. "Dude, those stink. Bad!"

"Yeah, it's a sad day, Sammy." Dean nodded solemnly. Sam covered his nose.

"Why?"

"These were my second luckiest pair of socks."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"Well, they're not anymore," Sam pointed out. Now, they were just rancid.

"I think we should give em' a Viking funeral, something to honor their service. I mean, I remember one time when I wore these things for two weeks straight!" Dean reminisced, grinning. Sam looked mildly disturbed.

"That's, uh... nice... But, uh, is there somewhere we could put them before the funeral? Because they, uh, they reek." Sam was trying hard not to gag and couldn't understand how Dean could be holding them and remain unaffected. Dean smirked.

"You wanna go put em' somewhere?" He asked, waving the socks into Sam's face. Sam leaned away.

"Ah! God! No! Put those things somewhere! Please!" He choked out. Dean just grinned and moved to the other side of the room. Grabbing a cardboard box from off the shelf, he shoved the socks in there and sealed the lid. The stench quickly began to dissipate.

"Better?"

"Yeah, thanks."

"We're gonna have to burn that box too."

"Yup." Sam still felt a little sick but at least the socks were gone.

"So, what was it Jack said that you thought was so funny?" The older brother asked.

"Oh, uh, nothing. It was nothing," Sam said. But laughter began to creep up on him again. Dean rolled his eyes and went back to pulling more dirty clothing from the duffle bag.

"Are ya gonna stand there or are ya gonna spill?" Dean pushed. Sam sobered up again.

"Well, I'm not supposed to tell you," He said.

Dean shook his head, mildly annoyed. He knew Sam was going to tell him whatever juicy information he had gotten, just like he always did when he got that sly look on his face. Sam could be a bit of a schoolgirl that way. Except, of course, when it came to the important things, the things Dean was supposed to know. Those things Sam always kept to himself.

"Well, Sammy, if you ain’t gonna spill─" he used the gun in his hand to gesture from Sam to the duffle bag─ "get workin'."

The younger Winchester moved to the bag and started unpacking, grinning his face off all the while. Dean knew his little brother was waiting for him to ask about the thing with Jack again, so he said nothing. He just waited for Sam to look over to him eagerly, which is exactly what Sam did.

"So get this!" Sam started.

'Here it comes.' Dean predicted internally. Sam kept starring.

'Yatzee.' Dean thought. He knew Sam like the back of his hand. Actually, he probably knew his brother better than that.

"Apparently, Jack got a text from some random person last night wishing him merry Christmas. And, well, you know Jack! So he─" Dean stopped his brother mid-sentence.

"What's her name?" He interrupted. Sam looked confused.

"I didn't say anything about a girl," Sam trailed off. Dean sighed and shook his head.

"Geez, Sammy! If you love drama so much, you should go be an actor. You ain't foolin' anybody. We both know where this is goin' so just cut to the chase!" Dean sighed, opening a trunk and tossing in the gun he'd been holding along with several knives. His small outburst had startled his younger brother, but Dean didn't really care. Sam wasn't the only one who hadn't slept in 48 hours. Sleep was calling and Dean wanted nothing more than to answer. Sam frowned.

"Marty. The girl's name is Marty," Sam stated, sounding rather put out that Dean had guessed at his not-so-cleaver ploy. The older if the pair turned to the younger with a perplexed expression.

"Wait, wait. Marty?" He clarified. Amused disbelief written all over his features.

"Marty," Sam confirmed.

"Marty?"

"Yeah. Marty."

"Like the zebra in Madagascar, Marty?" Dean asked, grinning. Sam nodded.

"Yeah, like that. But remember, you didn't hear anything from me!" He answered, smiling as well. Dean laughed as he turned his attention back to the mess of clothing and weapons surrounding him on the floor.

"Yeah, whatever, drama queen." Dean rolled his eyes and kept working. The room was silent for a moment before the older Winchester burst out laughing again. He couldn't help himself; he found the subject hilarious.

"Ah, man. Marty! Now there's a name!" He exclaimed as he started folding the few clean clothing items laying in the pile. "What? Did her parents just take one look at her and say: 'Look at our beautiful baby! Let's name her Marty!'" Dean scoffed.

Sam snorted and shook his head at his older brother's bad joke. Then he leaned his head back and yawned.

"Man, I think we need some sleep," Sam sighed. Dean smirked.

"Is it your bedtime already?" He taunted, expecting a playful retort. But this time, Sam didn't argue. He just nodded.

"Yeah, I think it is." Though worried about his little brother, Dean held his playful smirk in place perfectly, just like he had been doing for so many years.

"Well, you go ahead and hit the sack. I'll finish up here." He said, easily. Even though he was just as tired and Sam was, he would finish out like always. Sam raised an eyebrow.

"You sure?"

"Yeah, o'course. There's not much left anyway." That was a lie and they both knew it, but Sam took the offer of sleep while it was on the table.

"Thanks, Dean."

"You're welcome, Sammy."

Sam patted his older brother on the arm as he stood and left the room. Traveling down the corridor he got to his bedroom and was out as soon as his head hit the pillow.

Meanwhile, Dean mouthed the strange name of Jack's mystery girl and chuckled about it to himself. Sitting on the floor in his room as he continued folding the rest of the clean clothes, cleaning out all the weapons and putting everything back in its place. The chore took him two more hours to complete but when it was done, he stretched himself out and laid back on his bed.

"Marty. Now, that's hilarious." Dean snickered to himself as he drifted off to sleep.

~I might hate myself tomorrow.

But I'm on my way tonight.

Let's be lonely together.

A little less lonely together~

Lyrics from: Lonely Together by Jasmine Thompson

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lethesomething · 4 years ago

Text

The ghost and the witch

I am still dealing with the emotional gut punch that is the ending of Ghost of Tsushima, so have a very indulgent… fluff piece? My proofreaders have told me I can’t call it a comfort fic, so let’s go with ‘soft fic with canon levels of angst’ instead.

Tags: Jin Sakai x Reader, fluff, soft, comfort (?), angst, ridiculously poetic descriptions of nature, ludicrous levels of symbolism, so much pining

You scoop the dry green dust into the pouch, carefully checking the weight on a tiny brass scale. With a small wooden spoon, you stir the dust into the clay powder and dried grass already present, checking the contents of the pouch one final time before closing it up and using a few quick stitches to secure it.

"There." You add the pouch to the pile and hold out the order. "One bag of stomach salts for the Fushikawa boy, and five wound ointments. That should keep you going for a while longer."

The Ghost, sitting in seiza on the opposite side of the table, bows his head as he takes them.

"Thank you."

He looks tired, sweat and mud mixing with caked blood on his brow. You're fairly sure it's not his, but that knowledge does not soothe you as much as you'd like. There are hard lines in that face, drawn by sacrifice and pain, etched in stubbornness and unwavering, never-ending pursuit.

"It would be better if you rested, lord Sakai."

He looks up. His eyes are clear and focused, crisp as the winds blowing up the northern cliffs of the island.

"Please, call me Jin."

"My apologies," you say, "force of habit."

"I don't recall you ever calling me 'lord' when we were young," he grumbles.

"That's because you wanted it too much back then," you grin. "But either way. Jin. Please take a rest. Your body cannot keep this up, no matter how tight your resolve is. You need actual sleep. You can stay the night if you want. You'll be safe here."

His gaze drops down and his brow knots, as if he's thinking over a new concept, something so foreign to him that it leads to confusion. Then he gets up. "The boy."

You're not about to argue. He's the most stubborn man you've ever met. With a sigh you follow him to the door of your house. "Then come back."

His retreating form stops briefly. The wind twirls leaves around his silhouette, outlined against the moss-covered trees. It's late in the afternoon, and light comes down the canopy like droplets, skittering from branch to branch until it falls to the ground in ever smaller pools. Shadows rule here, hiding his face, obscuring even the horse trotting to his hand. "I'll see what I can do," he says, and then he's off.

----

Rain beats like hooves on the roof, mercifully muffled by the thick layers of thatch and greenery that shield your abode from prying eyes. Still, for a short moment your heart stops when you hear the screen door softly slide open, and just as quickly, slide shut. He stands there, slick with rain and glowing faintly orange in the light coming from the fire. "Excuse my interruption," he says.

You shake your head. "Welcome back." Embers fall off a log in the fire, popping and crackling. The rain drums above you. "Have you eaten?"

"A little," he mumbles, too stubborn to admit to hunger, but not composed enough to keep his eyes from wandering over the shelves for supplies you may have.

Movement comes to you in a sudden rush. "Sit down, I have some millet porridge leftover."

"You don't have to-"

You wave away his concern. "And I have water in the hearth, I'll draw you a bath."

"That's really not necessary," he starts saying, but he stops when you turn and raise an eyebrow at him.

"Yes it is."

For a long moment he halts, as if to take stock of the dirt, the sweat, the blood, the horse hair dampened by the rain but not washed away fully. He watches the fire, breathes in the smell of herbs that fills the very air inside this house and looks towards you, bustling over a pot of warm food. He nods. "Alright," he concedes, and gets comfortable on the floor. "Thank you."

---

Steam rises, curling and dancing in intricate patterns toward the rafters. Jin rests his back against bamboo planks and rolls his neck. The tub is just big enough to submerge his lower half in warm, fragrant water. Whatever it is you’ve put in there smells nice. Calming. He takes a cloth and rinses it, before he wipes it on his face and shoulders, rubbing away what feels like years of grime and fatigue.

You’re tending to the fire, your form similar, but somehow more graceful than what it was. Your hair is longer, the skin on your hands rougher, but the years have not taken much else from you. Certainly the bright flame behind those eyes is still present, unrelenting and unyielding in the face of everything.

You look up. “Did you want me to do your back?”

He blinks. “Uhhh.”

And then you smile, and that hasn’t changed either. Your lips curl up in a way that could be read as polite or mischievous, depending on the outlook. He’s always been fond of it.

“Please,” he says.

-- -

You sit on a stool by the bath and knead the heated skin on his shoulders between your fingers, the pads of your thumbs running small circles on his neck. His back is a patchwork of colours, from dark purple bruises to blues and reds and yellows.

You try to avoid the more painful looking blotches while you make your way down, but he does not protest at your touch. He’s silent, save for an occasional sigh and a roll of the neck.

He’s grown, you notice. There is a dignity and a will to him that he lacked when he was younger. You’re well aware of what he’s doing, the lives he chooses to take, and those he chooses to save. You know of the enemies he’s made. Part of you is very proud of him. Another fears for his wellbeing at every turn. The path he’s chosen is not an easy one to walk.

“How long has it been since you last washed your hair,” you ask into the silence that sits on top of the rumbles of fire and the splash of water.

“I’m not letting you do that,” he says lowly.

“Can I at least pick out the leaves?”

He chuckles. “If that’s what you want.” He leans back against the side of the tub and lets his head fall towards your knees. “Next you’ll ask me if you can shave me as well.”

“Would you let me,” you say, tugging at the cord that holds his bun together.

He grins. “I just might.”

He closes his eyes and a curtain of black falls across your lap. You take a silver comb, one of your few treasures, and start gently tugging at the knots, unraveling the work of the sea and the wind.

---

Jin leans back and closes his eyes. Your comb runs across his scalp in languid, repeating motions, like waves lapping at a beach. He times his breathing to their rhythm and sits there, relishing in the soft intimacy of your hands.

There is comfort in the motions of your fingers running across his head. The smell of camellia’s is faint but nostalgic as you comb out the strands and oil them. It’s been a long time since he felt this warm, this content.

“Can I ask you something,” he says.

“Go ahead.”

“Why did you leave?”

Your hands pause for a second, but do not falter. Your fingers continue their gentle motion, starting at the scalp and gliding down to part the hair, followed by the comb.

“I suppose they never told you.” He feels a weight to those words, but can’t quite make it out.

“I have always wondered,” he says. “I didn’t really understand what happened. One day you were just gone.”

“Jin.”

The weight shifts. There is a pause, a silence in which your fingers keep moving and steam fills the void between the two of you. The rain outside has stopped, he notices, and then you take a breath.

“We were close,” you say. “Close enough for people to notice.” Your voice gains a raspy edge, as if it is difficult to speak. “I was not good enough. Not for you.”

“That’s-”

But you continue before he can form the sentence. “It was decided that it would be best that I move north, so as not to needlessly distract you from your studies.”

He swallows. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I didn’t know.”

“That was, perhaps, for the best,” you say softly, and your fingers start gathering his hair. “You were not in a position to do anything about it.” You collect the strands in the palm of one hand, smoothing up any stragglers with the other.

“The last I heard was that you were to marry one of clan Terushima’s retainers, but you didn’t.”

“I did not,” you hum behind him, as you coil his hair and tie it with a thin piece of string. “I’m sure he was nice enough, but I was never going to be some random man’s wife. I decided on a different path.”

You tap his shoulder and Jin sits up, takes in the herbs drying from the ceiling, the shelves of jars and powders. The pebbles, the statues, the trinkets. “You did,” he says, and he watches as you wipe down the comb and carefully fold it in embroidered silk, a piece of an old kimono he vaguely remembers, and store it in a box on the shelves.

“Do you regret it?” he asks.

You shake your head and carefully put away the oil. You rinse your hands in a bowl of water and dry them thoroughly. You set your shoulders before turning to him. “No path is easy to walk, Jin. Especially if you follow what you feel is right,” you say, finally. “Some roads are smoother than others, but we all crash into the walls and thorns confining us eventually. Whether you pull back from the edge or push through is up to you. We all do what we must.”

“We do,” Jin says quietly. His eyes feel heavy now. The fragrant water hanging thick in the air seems to call out, beckoning his senses deeper into the mist. When he looks up again, you are standing by his side, a towel in your hands.

“And you must really rest, so get out of there while I pick up some more firewood in the shed.”

---

The birdsong of early morning filters through the blankets of vegetation that swaddle your house. The light will take a little longer to get here, traveling all the way from the top of the forest canopy like honey oozing off a spoon.

You get up from a nest of fabric and straighten your clothes, combing your hair with a wooden pick before tying it back.

The Ghost lies on a mat in the corner, chest slowly rising and falling.

You poke the dying embers in the fire, sparking them back to life. There are many things to do: clothes to darn, balms to brew, but for now you are content to sit here and listen to soft breaths as you watch the sparks rekindle, adding branches to a fire that is sure to burn you if you continue to let it grow.

---

Jin Sakai adjusts the strap of his glove, tightening it. There is a dull ache in his chest that he didn’t notice before today. It has come to the foreground now that many of his other stings and pains have found relief.

His breath is deeper, his head is clear. The deep, gnawing exhaustion that turned his every movement into a deliberate act, a decision to go on despite the waves crashing down, is shallow now. It tugs at his feet like mud, enough to annoy, but not to trip him, certainly not enough to stop him.

You’re leaning against the door style, arms folded. Your lips are curled, smiling, but your eyes are not.

He sighs. The sun dapples you with blossoms of light, crowns you in golden glory. Slowly, his hand reaches up, fingers tracing the line of your jaw.

You blink rapidly up at him. “Jin?”

A sudden gust of wind whirls around you, tugging pieces of thatch off the roof and blowing strands of hair into your face, obscuring your vision.

He leans in and softly, briefly, places his lips on your forehead. “Thank you,” he whispers. “For everything.”

#jin sakai x reader #fanfic #fluff short #ghost of tsushima

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