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sweaterkittensahoy · 4 years ago

Note

I don't really fancy established relationships but i love drawn out onesided pining, so maybe something about seeing Lestrade at work at the station or at a crime scene, being the right mix of disheveled & professional

(You and I are very different people; but I will do my very best because a good pining is a fun time)

Mycroft stands at the edge of the scene and twitches when the first few raindrops hit his collar. He opens his umbrella without thinking and lifts it to protect him as his gaze falls back to the scene.

Or, Lestrade on the scene, to be more correct.

He's standing several dozen meters away, lit up by the high-powered mobile lights from forensics. His shirt is in a state, wrinkled and creased. This is his third scene in nineteen hours, Mycroft knows, because this is the third scene he has been to as well. Someone is targeting informants to some of Mycroft's lower colleagues, and they're moving swiftly. Mycroft's people, led by Anthea, are working the angles they have. Sherlock is buried in information to find the angles they do not see. Lestrade is doing what he does the very best: being the boots on the ground.

Mycroft watches Lestrade yawn hugely, then turn and say something to a tech that makes the tired man flash him a brief, amused smile. Lestrade scrubs a hand over his hair, then looks up, squinting as the rain hits his face. It's nothing more than a light misting, truly, but Mycroft steps forward anyway, pleased at the people who nod at him in recognition. Lestrade had been insistent that his people know Mycroft on sight so he could move as easily as needed at these particular scenes, and Mycroft appreciates as always how well Lestrade understands what people need.

"Detective Inspector," Mycroft says when he's a few meters away. Out of Lestrade's personal space but close enough to be easily heard.

Lestrade holds up a finger. "Two ticks," he says, flashing Mycroft a quick look to see his agreeing nod.

Mycroft watches Lestrade walk over to Donovan and have a brief conversation. The tension in her shoulders loosens minutely, and she flicks Lestrade on the chest in a friendly fashion that makes him grin.

Oh, that grin, Mycroft thinks. Such a dangerous weapon on the wrong man. Possibly even more dangerous on the right one.

Lestrade squats down to look at what Anderson is photographing, then he's back on his feet, working his way across the scene to the constables keeping watch at the tape. He says a few words, hands three cigarettes to one of them, laughs quietly at some reply, then leaves them to their work.

Mycroft is somehow certain the constable only requested a single cigarette, but Lestrade would never hand over one when he has several. It is yet another sign of the goodness of his heart. The goodness of the man.

"Mycroft," Lestrade says when he finishes his circuit and comes to a stop in front of Mycroft, hands jammed in the pockets of his trousers, his coat pushed back off his hips due to the stance. It makes him one very lovely masculine line from the top of his head to the tips of his shoes. The mist is just starting to flatten his hair, but the water makes it glimmer, and Mycroft cannot believe how devastating the mere existence of this man is to his being.

"I was going to offer you a bit of protection," Mycroft says, tipping his umbrella slightly forward. "But I am not sure you'll feel its use now that you've gotten damp."

Lestrade takes his hands out of his pockets and shakes his coat by its lapels. Water droplets fly off to the sides. "Waterproof," he says, "so I'm pretty dry overall. But I wouldn't say no to a little head protection while we compare notes."

"Certainly," Mycroft says. He steps forward at the same time as Greg, and they meet perfectly centered under Mycroft's umbrella. For a moment, all Mycroft can catalogue is the warmth that radiates from Greg's torso, the tiny cut on his chin where he nicked himself shaving, the scent of bitter, burned coffee that clings to his collar.

"Same as the others," Lestrade says, reaching up and pushing his hair backwards through his fingers. It makes it stick up more.

Mycroft gets a brief hint of mint and lavender shampoo mixed with the smell of new rain, and oh, that's new. The addition of the water to that smell that Mycroft has known for what feels like a very long time. This is what Lestrade would smell like in the shower, Mycroft thinks, and then blinks the thought away. "Stabbed through the back of the neck with signs of torture pre-death?" Mycroft asks to keep his mind focused on the present.

Lestrade sighs deeply, and there's sadness in his eyes. He feels every death he investigates, Mycroft knows, but he also carries that weight with a grace that Mycroft has very rarely seen. It is cousin to the grace Lestrade has that has him taking a moment to cheer his team. To give three cigarettes to a random constable. A relation to the grace Lestrade showed Sherlock and then Mycroft the day they all met.

Mycroft has been unquestionably and foolishly in love for a very long time. There is no other way to be in the face of a grace so casual given by a man so effortlessly beautiful.

"Yeah," Lestrade says. "How's it going on your side of things?"

"No updates, I'm afraid. And nothing from Sherlock."

Lestrade quirks a smile, then a small, dry laugh. "So, he has nothing, or he's hared off and doing something stupid."

"I would hope Dr. Watson would inform us if that were happening, but he is...occasionally unreliable."

Lestrade smiles at Mycroft, wide and amused, the flash of happiness in his eyes making Mycroft feel like he can't breathe at all. "John's entirely reliable. He will always be by Sherlock's side when he's being a fucking berk."

Mycroft huffs a laugh. There's warm annoyance and fondness in Lestarde's tone. Signs of friendship and care. Of sincere concern and affection. "I cannot argue against your accurate description."

The rain suddenly comes down harder, switching from mist to a proper downpour. There's shouts of displeasure from the scene techs, all rushing to try and preserve what they can. Mycroft is not surprised that Lestrade does not dart away to help. He is a man with a keen sense of when he's useful versus when he's not, and he will only be in the way as the techs rush with precise teamwork to cover the scene in sheeting.

"Shit," Lestrade mutters, pulling his coat around him and tying it closed. "I know we haven't found fuck-all at the other scenes, but the possibility we just lost something is going to hit the team right in morale."

"You will overcome it," Mycroft says. "Your people knows you will not blame them."

Lestrade looks at Mycroft, gaze flittering over his face. Mycroft stays still, allowing his face to stay open and readable. There's a shift to Lestarde's gaze when their eyes meet. From curious to pleased, and then from pleased to...Mycroft isn't quite sure.

Or, he is sure but he fears that to put a name to what he's seeing will mean it will go away.

Lestrade takes a half-step forward, just enough that they're truly close together under the protection of Mycroft's umbrella. "What do you see when you stand here and watch me?" he asks.

Mycroft takes a moment to answer. His heart is thundering in his chest louder than the rain hitting the umbrella just above their heads. "Everything," he finally says because it's the truest answer.

Lestrade nods slowly. He glances over his shoulder and takes in the scene. "Scene's basically useless now," he says. "But I need to check a few more things. When I'm done," Lestrade turns to look at Mycroft again, "me and you, let's get a pint. Warm ourselves up a bit and get a breather. Been a rough couple of days."

Lestrade's face tells Mycroft everything. It's not just a pint. Not just a chance to wind down with someone who understands the strain of being in charge. It's exactly what Mycroft saw and was afraid to name. Hope. Interest. Curiosity. Warmth.

"I'll wait in my car," Mycroft says. He tips the umbrella towards Greg. "Please make use of this."

Greg takes the umbrella. He gives Mycroft one more warm look, the hint of a smile, and then a sharp nod. "Ta," he says and walks away.

The way his shoulders and back straighten as he makes his way back to Donovan makes Mycroft feel warm even as the rain drenches him. He'd relaxed with Mycroft, comfortable to show a bit more of himself.

Mycroft walks briskly to his car, ignoring Anthea's amused look when she sees how wet he is. She shifts her umbrella so it covers them both.

"Any change, Sir?" Anthea asks.

Mycroft snorts at the utter flatness of her tone. Anthea cuts him an amused look. "Not in regards to leads," he says and lets her read on his face that, yes, there has been one change.

"Shall I fetch your spare suit from the boot?"

Mycroft glances over his shoulder. Greg has left the umbrella with Donovan and is making his way around without it. Were he a Renaissance painting, Mycroft thinks, his grace would glow around him like a lantern. "I am sure the heat in the car will be adequate," he says. He will never have Greg's grace, but he is very curious to try it on in some small way. They'll both be disheveled and damp when they sit down for their pint. It warms Mycroft to think of it.

"Very good," Anthea says with a blank look that laughs at his romantic fancy as she opens the door. "I assume we are waiting for the Detective Inspector to join us."

"Yes," Mycroft says. "Thank you."

#mystrade #greg lestrade #mycroft holmes #ask #answer #get together #sort of #i hope this is enough pining!#anthea

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sodalitefully · 4 years ago

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It’s hazardous to breathe... [GNR Mad Max AU, pt. 1]

This is the first half of a AU inspired by the movie Mad Max: Fury Road that @smokeandmirrorz and I came up with after he posted some awesome art for a Mad Max AU! This oneshot very loosely follows the plot of the movie, it may make less sense if you haven’t seen the film. I split it into two parts so it would be more readable on tumblr, the second part is here and the whole fic is also on AO3.

*Contains mpreg, character death, and plenty of unpleasant things from the Mad Max universe, including implied/referenced sexual violence, some regular violence/gore (more so in the second part), and Immortan Joe.*

----

It wasn't often that the wives were brought outside their chamber. Less often still that Steven got to be present when they were – so he considered himself lucky to be in the same room when the Immortan's only surviving wife emerged from the biodome to watch Immortan Joe send off his top Imperator on a mission to recruit more valuable full-lives after the untimely deaths of his other two wives.

It was a little known truth that Steven and Slash had history. 'Little known,' because if the Immortan caught wind that the two had become close when Slash was first brought to the Citadel and Steven was just a War Pup, he would be toast. As little as they'd talked in the years since then, Steven still considered Slash... if not a friend, at least an acquaintance. And that's more than he could say about his fellow War Boys.

Being allowed in the same room as Slash was the first step to reigniting their friendship. Now, if only Slash would acknowledge him...

"Steven." Slash's voice was barely loud enough to hear.

"Yes?" Steven perked up, encouraged that Slash hadn't forgotten about him after all.

"I need you to do something for me." Steven nodded eagerly. "I need you to go to Imperator Stradlin, and tell him to come visit me as soon as possible. Can you do that?"

"Of course. Anything for the Immortan!"

It wasn't for the Immortan, but Steven didn't need to know that.

"One more thing – It's top secret. You can't say a word to anyone else, alright?"

Getting to the wive's chamber wasn't hard for Izzy: all he had to do was convince the guards he was on official business, and then once he was inside the vault, the soundproof walls would take care of the rest. All the same, he did not have a good feeling about this "meeting." Whatever was going on, it was going to be trouble...

The thick vault door swung open, revealing a scene straight out of a dream, so serene it seemed impossible that it could exist in the same world as things like gas wars, and tumors, and the Wasteland.

Sunlight streamed through huge semi-opaque windows and illuminated the smooth sandstone walls. Green plants and relics of the old world surrounded a pool of crystal-clear water. And in the center of it all, clothed in the purest white, was the Immortan's most prized treasure:

"Slash... the Desired."

"Imperator." The wife looked him dead in the eye; his hair was restrained in a ponytail and draped with the same white fabric as the rest of his body. It was the first time Izzy had ever seen Slash's face completely clear of dark curls, and the first time he'd seen him with enough clothing to cover the rest of his skin.

“Why did you ask me to come here? Does Joe want something from me?”

Slash’s mouth twitched into a frown at the name, but he responded in a carefully level tone:

“I have a proposition for you.”

Izzy raised an eyebrow. What could a wife possibly have to offer him? Besides the obvious, of course, and that... that was more trouble than it was worth.

“I can’t stay here any longer,” Slash explained.

“You’re crazy if you think he’ll just let you leave,” Izzy replied with a startled laugh. It was inconceivable, but Slash was looking at him with complete sincerity.

“He won’t. But you want to leave too.”

“Do I?” He did, but Slash definitely wasn’t supposed to know that.

“Please, you hate it here, it’s obvious. You want to leave, and I want you to take me with you."

“Fucking hell – don't you think I would have left by now if I could? And why would I help you anyway? How do I know you're not just testing my loyalty to the Immortan?"

"Don't be ridiculous. Me, doing favors for Joe?"

"Alright, fine. Then what if I betray you? I could be rewarded for... keeping the Immortan's property safe."

"What if I tell everyone you took advantage of the Immortan's absence to take his one and only wife for a test drive?"

"Fuck. You're not as pure as we've been led to believe, are you?"

Slash snorted. "Not by half."

"But that doesn't change anything. The Immortan would rip my throat out with his horse teeth for trying to steal one of his breeders –"

“Don’t call me that!” Slash snapped.

For a moment, Izzy was reminded of a younger Slash, fresh from the Wasteland and ready to bite at anything that got too close.

But Slash quickly composed himself, trying and not entirely succeeding to recapture an air of calm assertiveness. "Look, just... Just think about it, alright? We have a chance, I know we do, and really... How much more of this do you think you can take?"

Izzy sighed. "I'll think about it," he conceded.

"Thank you."

Slash did his best to hide his disappointment, and Izzy wasn't about to stick around and make things worse by trying to console him. He turned around to leave the wives' sanctum, but hesitated before he reached the doorway.

"Slash... What really happened to the other Wives?"

"One... One miscarried. The Immortan wasn’t happy about that. The other tried to..." his lips faltered at the worst profanity in the Citadel, "... abort her pregnancy, it didn't end well. The Organic Mechanic couldn't do anything but give her something for the pain. They give us a serum, sometimes, to help us sleep. I gave her my dose."

The scouting party brought back a feral! they said. Full-life and raving mad, driving an Interceptor, can you believe it?

No, Izzy couldn't believe it. Couldn't believe that Axl Rose, MFP legend turned Road Warrior, could get taken down by a pack of half-dead War Boys. But the proof was in front of him, shivering in a cage, starving and in dire need of a shave.

"...I-Izzy?"

His voice was exactly the same as it always was, the respirator that Izzy cobbled together a lifetime ago couldn't hide the low timber that sometimes still appeared in his dreams.

He'd made a mistake when he thought he could play it safe at the Citadel. He should have listened when Axl told him they were better off on their own. The Citadel was a shrine to depravity, and he wouldn't let Axl become another one of its victims – he needed to get them out of the tower walls and far away as soon as possible. It would be a challenge to escape unnoticed... but Izzy knew the perfect distraction.

"I'll make a deal with you, Slash."

Slash didn't have the decency to look shocked when Izzy barged into the biodome uninvited – or the decency to put on the thin white shirt that lay discarded on the floor.

Actually, Izzy was the one looking shocked when his eyes fell on Slash’s bare belly and his carefully planned proposition died in his throat.

“What’s the deal?” Slash asked, but Izzy was more concerned with his unfortunate new realization:

“You didn’t tell me you were pregnant! What were you thinking, asking me to help you? The Immortan is going to shred me to pieces!”

“He’d shred you anyway, this won’t change anything,” Slash gritted out. Pregnant or not, there was no way he was about to let Izzy back out, not now. “What’s the deal, Stradlin?”

Izzy hated to be caught off guard, but he could use this to their advantage. Joe would never risk hurting a potential heir, making Slash an even better shield than before. And once he and Axl split off, there was no way Joe would waste time and resources going after a twice-disgraced Imperator and a feral bloodbag before he got his pregnant wife back, giving them a valuable head start – if it came to that.

"I'll take you with me on my next supply run. Ten days from now. We'll go to the Buzzards' territory, trade guzzoline for another vehicle. Then we part ways, got it? I'll get you out of here but I'm not babysitting you or your sprog for the rest of my life."

"You don't want to get caught with me, you mean. Stopping to deal with the Buzzards will give the Immortan time to catch up to us. I'm fucked on my own."

Izzy didn't respond, and tried to look like it didn't matter to him whether Slash took his offer.

"Fine. If they catch up... At least I'll die historic on the Fury Road," Slash said with a sardonic smile. "But I have a request – I need you to find me a driver. Someone who doesn't serve the Citadel, someone no one will notice is missing."

"There is no one like that."

"Really? All those people down there, and none of them can operate a car?"

"If they could, they wouldn't be there."

"There must be someone," Slash insisted. Izzy sighed.

"I'll see what I can do in ten days. But what the hell do you need them for?"

"Well... I can't drive."

On his third visit, Izzy had spent enough time in the biodome to say that stepping inside the pristine vault always made him feel like a dirty rag, used to wipe away sweat and grime then left out to stiffen in the dusty waste.

But if he was a dirty rag, then Duff was roadkill. He was a half-life, one of the Wretched who clung to the sides of the Citadel like barnacles, bathing in dust while the Immortan bathed in Mother's Milk. He was lanky – no, skeletal, nothing but sunburned skin and bone. He carried the Wasteland with him wherever he went, tracking dust with each step. Izzy bit down on the irrational urge to warn him not to touch anything in the vault.

The black leather collar around his neck marked him as a former denizen of Gas Town, one who had likely outlived his usefulness if his rickety prosthetic leg and the cluster of nasty tumors half-hidden by his hair had anything to say about it. Clearly, he was in no shape to labor in the refinery. Rumor had it that The People Eater was a cannibal – as his name suggested – but evidently Duff had escaped that fate, perhaps because he had no meat on his bones to speak of, and instead sought out clean water, abundant food, and fresh air at the Citadel. Hah.

Slash stared at them over his shoulder, wide-eyed and seated in the shallow pool in the center of the room. Tiny bottles lined the edge of the pool, and the scent of flowers wafted in the air.

"A bath? Now, really?"

"It might be the last chance I get," Slash countered, but he rose from the water, the beads on his skin already drying in the inescapable desert heat. Izzy averted his eyes as Slash wrapped a length of gauzy white cloth around his waist, tugged a loose shirt over his head, and bent forward to twist another cloth around his damp hair. Then, finally, he turned to face his guests. "Is this...?"

"This is Duff, the Wretched. Not a War Boy. He came from Gas Town, so he can drive."

"Good." Duff was staring at Slash like a mirage, but Slash knew how to get on a person's good side: "Do you want some water, Duff?"

"How the fuck did you get in here?!" In a heartbeat, Izzy's handgun was aimed at the War Boy's head. He saw movement out of the corner of his eye. "Slash, get away from him."

"No! You can't kill Steven!"

"He knows too much, he's a liability. Kill him and let's go," Axl advised.

"No! Stradlin, who even is this guy?" Slash demanded, but once again, he received no explanation.

"Slash, what's going on, where are you going? Please don't leave me!"

"Steven, I –"

"Take me with you! I can help!"

"Slash, I'm serious. Step away." Izzy inched closer, his gun unwavering. War Boys were unpredictable, Kami-crazy. You never knew what they might do when backed into a corner.

But Slash was crazier – he pushed Steven back, placing himself between Izzy and his target. Izzy recognized the steely glint in his eyes before Slash even spoke: "He's coming with us."

They were curled up in the hold of the War Rig, surrounded by food and supplies that would never make it to Gas Town like they were supposed to. Duff was happily munching away at a carrot, and Slash was sitting with his legs curled up to his chest.

"Are you scared?" Duff asked.

"... Yes," Slash admitted, barely audible over the roaring engine. "Are you?"

"No."

"Why not? If we get caught, you'll be punished too, for helping me. And he doesn't care about taking you alive."

Duff shrugged. "It doesn't really matter, does it? I've got a few months left, at best."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. I've had my whole life to come to terms with it. Well, half-life."

It was a terribly morbid joke, but Slash still laughed.

“So... You’re not afraid of anything, then?”

“Well, I don’t know – When Izzy brought me to you, I was scared. It was like he’d taken me out of the real world and dropped me in a fantasy. I thought if I touched anything, I’d destroy it; if I spoke, I’d break the spell and wake up in the Wasteland, half dead with a crow pecking at my tongue. I thought if I got too close to you, I'd pass on my illness, and if I looked at you too long, I'd go mad and start believing in things like beauty and health and the goodness of humanity."

Slash could have laughed at the momentous gap between Duff's perception of the biodome and his own. Instead, when Duff finished his recollection, Slash crawled across the middle of the hold and pressed himself against Duff's side.

Duff tried to scoot away, but Slash entangled him with the soft touch of fine cloth and uncalloused hands. He wrapped his arms around Duff’s thin torso and laid his head on his shoulder.

“No, don't go. You don't have to be scared, Duff... You're the cleanest person to touch me in a long time."

Hesitantly, Duff reached up and let his good hand rest on Slash’s back. Slash’s hair brushed against his collar, even softer than his clothes, and when Duff breathed deeply he could still make out the sweet scent that filled the room when they first met.

For a moment, Duff let himself get lost in the fantasy world that still surrounded Slash, even in the hold of the War Rig, miles from the Citadel. He could forget about the danger they were in, the cruelty they’d experienced, and even the ticking time bombs in his own flesh.

“Do you think your baby will survive?”

“I don’t know.” Slash didn’t sound optimistic, he toyed with his sleeve and avoided Duff’s gaze.

“I’ve never seen a completely healthy baby before, I didn’t think it was possible. But then I saw you, and you’re perfect, so maybe...”

Slash scoffed.

“The Immortan is toxic. He taints everything: the water, the people... and me. If I was ever perfect, I’m sure as hell not anymore, and neither is this baby.”

Duff hugged Slash closer, and slid a hand down to his belly.

“We’ll see.”

----

[part 2]

#title from paradise city #this fic is so much longer than my usual omg #sodafics #gnr fanfic #gnr #guns n roses #guns and roses #slash #saul hudson #steven adler #izzy stradlin #duff mckagan #axl rose #mad max #mad max au #sorry to whoever follows the mad max tag and did not want to see this...

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yuta1forme · 4 years ago

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light & shadow pt. 1 | yuta

summary: standing in line for doyoung’s book signing, yuta wonders if he has ever acted normally around you

author’s note: i had no idea how else to split this story into a readable format so this will be a two (maybe three) part series! as always let me know if you would like to be tagged in the future parts!

taglist: @sweet-rintarou

prologue: [21:26]

genre: fluff, friends to lovers, college!au (this part)

pairing: yuta x reader

length: 1.7K

There are certain fundamental truths Yuta knows about the universe - the sun always rises in the east, milk goes before cereal and that Nakamoto Yuta does not blush.

“Nakamoto Yuta, do I have permission to flirt with you in Japanese?”, the translation app reads out in its robotic voice. He whips his head around to face you as if the words had left your mouth and not the phone held in your hand. And then he feels it. That unfamiliar heat rising to his neck and cheeks. One look at the amused grin on your face and he knows that you have noticed too. If there is one thing that has not changed in all eleven years of him knowing you, it’s that he should always expect the unexpected from himself when he is around you.

Even right now, hearing you gush about your attractive new coworker, Yuta feels an unfamiliar knot of form in the pit of his stomach. He suspects that it is the protectiveness he feels towards you that is making him feel so strangely antagonistic towards this man he has never met. But there is a niggling feeling at the back of his mind that tells him that that’s not the only reason why.

You always had a way of getting a reaction out of him that no one else could, always had him feeling emotions that he didn’t know he could feel. His relationship with you, while not better or worse than the relationship he had with any of his other friends, was certainly different. It always had been.

In freshman year, equipped with only a translation app on his phone, Yuta left his hometown of Osaka for Seoul. He had been offered a full-ride sports scholarship by Sooman University. He would play for the school’s soccer team and pursue, to his parents’ relief, a more “practical” degree in Business Management.

He would be playing with the team where some of his favourite soccer players had first gotten their start before moving to the Japanese league. It was a dream come true. Well, almost.

He had just never imagined it would be quite this...lonely.

Over his first month in the city, he could count the number of people he had spoken to on one hand. The first was his roommate with whom his conversations were limited to “hello” and “good morning”. The second and third were two middle-aged cafeteria ladies, who would coo over him and give him an additional helping whenever they saw that he was down. The younger of the two looked so much like his aunt, that it made his heart long for his family back in Osaka.

The fourth and final person was Mr. Jung Yunho, the Student Affairs Counsellor - an energetic man in his early thirties who had lived in Japan for most of his adult life. He had sense that something was amiss and had tried to pry into what was bothering Yuta right from their first meeting. After about three weeks of beating around the bush, Yuta had finally, begrudgingly, confided in him about his homesickness and his trouble communicating in Korean. Mr Jung had listened intently through it all, occasionally patting his shoulder to comfort him.

“You must feel very lonely, Yuta”, the older man had told him, resting one hand on his shoulder, eyes shining with sincerity.

It was lonely. He didn’t have a single person he could call a friend. Everyone he had met thus far seemed so busy, living a life far too fast paced to notice the quiet foreign student at the back of the lecture hall. He wondered if anyone in his classes would even notice if he stopped attending lectures. The only time he felt like he belonged somewhere was when he was playing soccer with the team, but even then he wondered whether he could call his teammates, his friends.

“Let’s start with helping you communicate first, shall we?”, Mr Jung had said, interrupting his self effacing train of thought.

“I’ll put you in touch with someone who can help tutor you in Korean. A Korean Literature student who’s been working with some other foreign students as well. I have a gut feeling you two will become great friends!”

That was how Yuta had come to know you. He clicked on your kakaotalk profile picture and zoomed in to your beaming face. You had one of those warm, welcoming faces. A face that one would trust immediately. Your face gave the impression that smiling was your resting face. The laugh lines on either side of your mouth and the crinkles beside your eyes were further proof of that.

Yuta had sent you a short, impersonal message introducing himself as the student Mr. Jung wanted you to tutor. He had not wanted to get his hopes up. Having been all by himself in a foreign country for the past month, being dependent on someone felt strange to him.

Still, before he went to bed that night he found himself refreshing his messages, hoping for a notification from you. As his luck would have it, you hadn’t replied even the following morning. Yuta had swallowed the lump forming in his throat, pushing any disappointment out of his mind.

You made the decision to move, all on your own, to this country far away from your friends and family, where you don’t even speak the native language. You have to face the consequences on your own too. Y/N is not obligated to help you. No one is. This is your own battle, for you to fight on your own.

With those thoughts in mind, he had busied himself with getting ready for the first match of the season against the neighbouring university.

At half-time, Sooman University was trailing behind Seoul University with a score of 3-1. With the centre forward benched because of a foul, things weren’t looking up for the team. Yuta had made several attempts to score a goal throughout the game but had been stopped by the right-back, Park Minsoo, on Seoul University’s team. He was much taller than Yuta and had a larger build, which he used to his advantage.

If there was one thing he absolutely hated, it was foul play. Yuta’s teammates had tried signalling to the referee that Park had been playing dirty, but the referee, infamous for being biased towards the Seoul University team, had brushed off their concern.

After having collided with him several times over the last half, Yuta was getting impatient. He knew this wouldn’t end well for him but he had let his anger get the best of him. After another foul-worthy tackle from Park, Yuta used his side to shove the man out of his way with all his energy. Perhaps it was the momentum with which Yuta had crashed into him or pure dramatics, Park landed on his back howling in anger.

The referee blew his whistle to signal a pause and the players from both teams began fighting amongst each either, trying to put the blame on the opposing team’s player. The situation with Park must have been grave because the Seoul team’s coach and manager hurried on to the pitch as well. Yuta’s team captain stepped forward to defend Yuta from the wrath of the other side. But ofcourse, being Japanese, Yuta barely understood a word being spoken. There was no way he would be able to dig himself out of this.

The thought of being benched for the rest of the semester crept into his mind. The fear of losing his scholarship made his legs tremble and he instantly regretted not heeding his older sister’s lifelong advice to him to be more gentle.

Then you appeared. Like an angel, only instead of white robes and a halo made of pure light, you wore a blinding neon green visor and an equally garish hot pink t-shirt bearing the Korean Literature Department’s logo. He saw you hop down the bleachers and squeeze through half a dozen sweaty soccer players, to thrust yourself in between Yuta and the opposing team’s coach. You explained somewhat emphatically to the referee that Yuta was a foreigner who barely spoke Korean and that any missteps on his part were purely a misunderstanding because of the language barrier. The man didn’t seem convinced, grumbling and gesturing animatedly at the two of you, egged on further by the other coach’s growing impatience.

Yuta wished he could understand what was being said. He tried to hang on to every word being spoken, but the adrenaline from the tackle and the heightened atmosphere made it even harder for him to concentrate. He picked up a few words here and there. A mention of a foul. Then someone yelling out the word suspension, which made him clench his fist so hard he thought he would pop a vein in his arm.

But he understood the last words to come out of your mouth, perfectly well.

“Please let my friend off the hook this one time? I apologise on his behalf”.

Friend. No, he definitely had not misheard that. You had called him your friend.

You had yanked Yuta forward by the arm, pushing his head down into a deep bow. Yuta took the hint and apologised, somewhat robotically, to Park and his coach. He was not bothered by the condescending smirk on Park’s face or the dirty looks that were thrown his way by the rest of the Seoul team as he allowed himself to be dragged off the field by you.

You dragged him quickly to the empty booths near the back of the stadium, sat him down and handed him a bottle of Gatorade.

“I saw your text. I’m really sorry I didn’t reply any earlier. But to be fair I had wished you good luck with your game but I doubt you saw my message considering you were down here getting shoved around by that asshole Park”, you had started rambling while Yuta chugged the drink.

Then he did something that he would cringe about for years to come. He should have known right then, on day one, that he could never act like his usual self around you.

He had shot up out of the seat, stepped forward and pulled you right into his arms, lifting you a couple of inches up in the air due to the sheer force. Through shaky breaths, he had whispered out a barely audible thank you to you. To his relief, you didn’t fight him off.

After a few seconds, you broke the silence and embrace.

“Hey, I know I just saved your ass but you’re kind of really stinky from the sweat”, you had said in between giggles.

He had dropped you back down and grinned somewhat apologetically at you in response.

After that day, he was no longer alone.

#yuta #nakamoto yuta #yuta fluff #yuta scenarios #yuta college au #nct #nct 127 #nct scenarios #nct fluff #nct friends to lovers #nct college au #yuta friends to lovers #moonrise

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sigillaria-svt · 4 years ago

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More Than Enough (University AU)

Pairing: Dance Major!Lee Chan/Dino x Advertising Major!Reader

Word Count: 4,747

Warning: None

Genres: fluff, slice of life, University AU, schoolmates, Upperclassman/Friend!Vernon (minor appearance)

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Synopsis: All your life in university, you’ve focused on making sure that outputs were sent and tests were passed. You’ve never really had the time to go out with friends a lot with all the demands of your program. One night, you had to stay late with your classmates to finish a project at school. You decide to take a nap in one of the dance studios, thinking that no one would be able to disturb your sleep there. However, the practice room is not as empty as you thought it would be.

You type away at your laptop as you sit with the rest of your group at one of the study hubs in your building. It was during this specific time of the semester that your department would allow certain rooms to be usable 24/7 to help students pass the necessary requirements for the finals period. It was almost midnight when you decided to take a break from all the work. Although you were barely done, you knew you had to take a nap if you wanted to ensure that your report was at least readable. While your other members were in charge of the graphical and artistic side, you were in charge of the technical side of the report.

“I’ll be off in the nap room if you need me. If I don’t come back in an hour, please wake me up.” You say as you close the laptop and head over to the basement of your building.

The nap room isn’t literally a room that was specifically made for students to sleep in, but it’s an old and barely used dance room. Ever since the renovation of the building a few years ago, dance majors have been using the bigger and brighter dance rooms on the 2nd and 3rd floors for practice. The old dance room is cold, dark, and to be honest, is on the verge of falling apart with a few broken floor tiles and blurry glass. The school decided to keep it to renovate it into a different room, but due to mismanagement, it never really happened and it just stayed there for years as a technically functional, but unused room.

It was a horrible place to practice in, but a perfect place to nap in.

When you and your friends discovered it when you were freshmen, you ended up using it as a secret space whenever you just wanted to take a break. Two years later, all of you now call it the nap room so that other students wouldn’t know that you were secretly using it. Usually, the main door would be locked, but there’s another door at the back of the room with a broken lock that leads to the back of the building. You enter through that back door and take your usual spot behind some cabinets. You pull out the camping bag that you’ve always kept at the side and snooze off.

Your sleep was mostly peaceful and uninterrupted. However, it is broken by the sound of feet on the wooden floorboards.

Initially, you thought it was one of your groupmates coming over to wake you up. However, no face nor voice makes itself known to you, only the sound of feet, alternating between light and heavy steps. You aren’t entirely sure what to make of it--for sure, there are at least one or two ghost stories that you heard from your upperclassmen throughout your student life, but you weren’t one to believe in the supernatural. Despite trying to rationalize your way through it, you couldn’t help but think that perhaps there really was something else going on.

You muster up the courage to slowly get yourself out of the sleeping bag with as little sound as possible, keeping yourself low as you try to peak from the side of the cabinet. From your position, you see a single person dancing in the dim light of a single cellphone flashlight. He seems to be dancing to the music from his earphones.

It baffles you why he would be practicing at this place and at this hour. Last time you knew, no dancer would want to use this room unless they absolutely had to. You wanted to get out and leave him to his business, but you didn’t want to freak him out either.

You plan on getting back to your sleeping bag, but the man ends his dance, taking off his earphones along with it. He collapses to the floor, breathing heavily as sweat falls down his face. Now that he has his ears open, you knew you had to be even more careful than before. With as little noise as you could, you slowly crawled backward, but the old creaky floorboards were not in your favor this time. As you put your weight on your knee in moving back, a sharp noise fills the room and the man immediately turns his head in your direction.

You meet him eye to eye, both of you equally shocked at the sight of one another.

“Ahhh!” He props himself up and moves back a few spaces. His hand shoots up to his mouth, scared that someone might hear him from the outside. “My goodness! Wah!”

“H-Hello.” You say with a small wave.

“Who--what, what are you doing over there?” He whispers, tiredness immediately replaced by adrenaline.

“I know, it’s a bit of a shocker, but I was taking a nap here at the back.” You say, putting both of your hands up. “Midterms week, you know how it is.”

He gets up and briskly walks to you, looking over the cabinet to see the empty sleeping bag by your feet.

“Are you even allowed to sleep here?”

“Who knows? No one outside my group has ever found out, well, except until now.” You get up as well, finally seeing how tall he actually was. “Shouldn’t I be asking the same question? Are you even allowed to practice here? Didn’t the department give you guys that fancier room upstairs?”

He shrugs. “Midterms week, you know how it is.”

You can’t help but smile a bit at his remark. “I should probably go back up. Keep doing whatever it is that you’re doing.”

Just as you were about to make your way out, he blocks your way with his arm.

“Wait, while you’re here I’m going to need your help.” He says with a slightly louder voice. “You’re the only one who knows I’m here, so I’m going to need your help.”

“What for?”

“Alright, here’s the thing. I want you to tell me how my dancing is, I feel like something is missing, but I don’t know what it is.” He goes over to pluck the earphone jack from his phone. “I’ll let you listen to the song, it won’t take long, I promise.”

Taken aback by his sudden burst of energy, you take a few steps backward. “I’m not a dancer, I don’t really think I’m in the position to say anything.”

“What’s your major?”

“Advertising...” You reluctantly reply.

“Then you’ve got a good eye. That’s more than enough. Better to have feedback from an audience of one than an audience of none, am I right?” He calls you over to listen to the music playing on his phone. “Please? If you do help me, I promise to dance to whatever you want me to if you need it for one of your projects.”

You wonder what kind of situation he could be in that he would need the advice of a stranger, but you were too carried away by his compliment and proposal to say no. Shaking your head, you walk to him and put your ear next to the speaker of the phone. With his energy, you thought that it would be some strong EDM or hip hop song, but you were surprised to hear a softer and slower song.

After the song ends, he moves back enough for you to have a good view of him.

“I know it’s dark, but think of it as dramatic effect.” He says, putting himself into the starting position. “Can you play the song back to the start for me?”

You agree, increasing the volume to its maximum capacity. Instantly, you see him switch into performer mode. His entire expression changes as his body move fluidly in contemporary dance. As you listen to the song, you can see how much work he put into visualizing its story into a dance. Although you didn’t want to admit it, the dim light surely did create the dramatic effect that the song calls for.

He ends the piece with a pose and holds it for a few seconds before completely converting back to the ordinary college student he was before. “So, what do you think?”

“To me, it looks pretty good. I enjoyed watching you and I think your dance synced very well with the song. However, like, I don’t know if you’ll get what I mean but...” Your tilt your head from side to side, trying to shake your brain for the best way to explain it. “You weren’t? Your dance got the song, but you didn’t?”

He slowly nods, crossing his arms over his chest. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Oh man, I’m so sorry, I don’t really have a better way of explaining it.” You say, guilty that you may have said something that didn’t really sit well with him.

“No, I get what you mean, kind of. I just want to know what part.” He shifts his weight on one of his legs, deep in thought.

“I don’t know, up to you to find out, I guess.” You shrug, handing him back his phone. “It’s just what I think, so you probably shouldn’t think too much of it.”

“No, it’s good. You got me thinking at least, thanks.” He says, taking his phone and putting it in one of his pockets. “I’ll just sleep it out and think about it more in the morning.”

“Now that I’ve told you what I think, I assume that your offer to become a dancer is now set?” You say, making sure that you seal the deal. Although it seems like nothing to him, you knew that this could be important for one of your outputs one day. You take out your own phone and open the notepad. “I’m going to need your contact details.”

“Is this your way of hitting on me?” He says playfully, followed by his own high-energy laughter. “Nah, I’m just kidding, hand it over.”

He takes your phone and types in a few lines before handing it back to you. You check it one more time to check if he didn’t put in some nonsense information.

Lee Chan, 3rd Year Dance Major

[email protected]

Messenger: @LeeChan_1999 (please message me here)

“I’ll see you around!” He says, picking up the rest of his things before disappearing out the back door.

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The next few days go by in a flash. After spending a few sleepless nights, you and your group successfully pass your project with higher than expected grades. Now it’s the short silent period after the hectic midterms week where everyone just goes to classes, but without much really happening except for a few reminders and some feedback on recent outputs.

You sit at the round park table at the small park at the side of your building, watching students spend time with their friends while they still can for the short rest period. Across you, one of your upperclassmen and close friends, Hansol, types out something on his laptop.

You take a sip from the fruit drink you got from one of the stalls. “Still doing that paper you were cramming at the last minute?”

“Isn’t it fine though?” He says, looking up at his laptop. “I’d rather pass a finished but late paper than an incomplete mess. I’ll be done in a few minutes. Once I email it to our professor, we can go over to the movies with the rest of the guys.”

“Alright, go do your thing.”

You cross your legs and scroll through your phone. You had to meet up with your friends in around half an hour at the cinema nearby. Although you were used to Hansol pushing things to the last minute, you just wanted to hurry and get out of the campus.

You put down your phone and lie down on the bench, looking up at the canopy above you. The weather is just perfect to laze around and have fun. You knew that everything was going to get busy again starting next week, but you didn’t want to burn yourself out.

“Hey.”

Your view of the canopy and internal train of thought is broken by the face of Lee Chan--who you and your friends now like to call the Midnight Dancer--just above your face.

You jolt back, putting your hands up defensively. “Hey..?”

You sit up, looking at him as he takes a seat next to you. “I finally get what you mean!” Chan says, putting his hands on his knees. “I did a few adjustments to the dance, and guess what? I aced the performance, got enough good marks to last me until graduation.”

It takes you a few moments before realizing what he was talking about. “Oh, you mean for that dance you did?”

“Yeah! You don’t know how thankful I am for what you said. People always comment on the steps or the songs, but it’s the first time someone told me about getting the song myself.” He crosses his arms and shrugs. “Weird and absurd, but effective. By the way, I never really got to know your name. I’ve always referred to you as ‘that one girl from advertising’ when I tell my friends about it.”

“I’m glad it helped you out I guess. My friends always tell me that my thoughts don’t really make any sense.” You reply. “Oh, and my name is y/n. Easy to remember, I hope.”

“Good to finally have a name for the nameless character. Nice to meet you for the second time, y/n.” He leans his elbow on the table beside him. “Anyway, what are you up to?”

You look over to Hansol, then back to Chan. “We’re going out for a movie, getting off some steam after the midterm week. Want to come along?”

Chan’s mouth forms an ‘o’ as he raises his eyebrows. “Are you two... you know? I mean, I’m not really a big fan of being ‘that’ guy during a date.”

“Wait, it’s not what you think,” Your eyes grow big, flustered at the comment. Although you were 100% sure that you saw Hansol as a friend, bringing up the subject made you shy. “We’re going out with other friends, like a big group of friends.”

You see the corner of Chan’s mouth tilt up ever so slightly in amusement. "Alright, alright. I’d be happy to come along.” He takes out his phone and checks the time. “Just give me a few minutes to get my stuff at the dorm. Fifteen minutes, I think?”

You look over at Hansol, who still seems to be typing without a break. “Sure, I think that’ll be more than enough.”

“Alright, wait for me.” He says one last time before quickly disappearing over the corner.

“So that’s the Midnight Dancer you guys have been talking about?” Hansol says, his eyes still focusing on his laptop screen. “I didn’t think that the story was actually serious.”

“Does it really sound like something I’d make up?”

This time, Hansol looks up from his laptop. “I mean... it kind of does.” He types in a few more lines before clicking away at something. “I’ll send this off real quick.”

Fifteen minutes later, Chan arrives at your table, just as he said. This time, he’s carrying a backpack with him. “Alright, let’s go?”

“What’s the backpack for?”

“I’ve got a rehearsal tonight. Thought I’d drop by after the movie. If you’ve still got time to waste, you can sit in and watch.” He says, putting his hands through the slings of his bag.

“Don’t tell me you’re going to make me give you absurd feedback again?”

“I’m sorry, was it obvious?” He lets out a big laugh, giving a wide smile afterward. “Nah, you can really just watch this time.”

“Alright, why not.”

The three of you make your way to the theatre, meeting your four other friends. Despite meeting them for the first time, Chan easily blends into the group. Although he’s loud and friendly, he puts care into his words and actions. In the movie theatre, the two of you sit beside each other. You laugh at the small snarky comments he says at the side, grateful for the small breaks in silence. Although he says it quietly enough not to disturb the people around him, your laughter may have been louder than you wanted it to be. This earns you a few nudges from your friends, but you manage to keep a hold of it for the rest of the movie.

Once outside, the two of you can’t stop talking about the movie. You never really had to worry about running out of things to talk about because Chan always had something to say about everything. Even on your way to his rehearsal, both of you ended up talking about anything and everything. To be honest, you found the conversations more fun than the movie you were watching.

Eventually, when you had to go home, all you thought about was the lightheartedness you felt when being with him. You think of it as the buzz you feel when making a new friend who you know you’d click with for sure.

Little do you know, you’re already looking forward to the next time you’d randomly bump into him.

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Just as you thought, the following week was leading back into the cycle of busy schedules. It was one project after another. You weren’t really one to complain--you had great friends that helped out well in whatever you were tasked with, but you miss having a person that you could just freely talk to.

Somehow, you end up looking for him in the random figure at a crowd, or the loud and distant laughter at the lounge. Even your friends were starting to see that you were always somehow checking out the periphery.

When you do happen to come across him, you find yourself unnaturally excited.

You and your classmates are currently gathered at the student lounge, waiting for the multimedia room to be open so that you could begin your presentations for a class. You decide to move a couple of meters away from the big group, reviewing all the things you had to say for class later on.

You are looking out at the parking lot, memorizing and spacing out at the same time. Yet, when you spot a familiar head of brown hair, your mind immediately trails away from your presentation.

After two weeks, you finally got to see him again.

Well, about a hundred meters away, that is.

As if he had known you were staring at him all along, he turns his head toward you and gives you a wide smile as he crosses the parking lot. You give a small wave in return.

You would have wanted to have a small talk with him, but he turns over at one entryway and makes his way up the stairs, presumably to one of his classes.

You didn’t really have much time to think of it. Just as Chan disappeared, the doors to the multimedia room open, all of your classmates flowing into it as the previous class makes their way out.

“Y/N, let’s go!” You hear one of your classmates call out.

“Ah, yeah. Coming.” You say, turning back with your eyes still lingering for a few seconds on the staircase.

Ever since then, you’ve been starting to meet him a bit more often. Usually, it would just be the small smiles and eye contact from across the hall. Sometimes, you’d get to walk across each other in the hallway and exchange a few greetings. However, he always seems like he’s in a rush to get somewhere. Although you knew that he has his own life to live, you were curious about how he was doing. After all, he was the kind of guy that practiced in the middle of the night in an abandoned dance room, then he has probably done other similar things.

You didn’t know you were starting to think a bit too much about it when Hansol actually pointed it out.

At one of the cafes outside school, you and Hansol just finished a small consultation session for a project you were doing. With all the schoolwork he has to do, it was a bit hard to find the time to sit with him, so you had to run to the cafe for a quick minute while your group mates continue drafting the project at the campus.

“Why don’t you just go ahead and send him a message? You have his contact details, right?” Hansol says out of the blue, making you almost spit out your drink.

“Who?”

“Come on, you know who I’m talking about.” He grabs a piece of tissue and hands it over to you. “Lee Chan. From what I hear, it seems like he’s a pretty good dancer. You talk about him a lot.”

You take the tissue and wipe your mouth with it. Of all the times, Hansol actually brings this up now. “I do not--you know what, maybe I do. I mean, I can, but...”

“You still have that deal with him where you could use him as a dancer for your project right? I think it would be good if you could use a dancer concept for the promotional video.” Hansol leans his arms on the table and nods. “I don’t think the other groups would think to go as far as to find a dancer to promote an imaginary sportswear brand, so maybe it’ll earn you some extra points.”

You feel a small drop of cold sweat break out. All this time, Hansol was talking about the project, not your growing affection for the hardworking dance student.

“Ah, you mean that?” You shrug, trying it play it off. “Alright, sure, why not? I’ll have to tell my groupmates about it first, though.”

“Oh, absolutely. Hitting two birds with one stone, right?”

“What?”

“Nothing. Go ahead and contact him. Is there anything else you want to talk about?” He asks, giving a small comforting smile.

You check the time on your laptop. “I’d love to talk, but I think I need to get back to my group mates. I promised I’d be there by 10:30 tonight.”

“Doing one of your late-night projects again?”

“The woes of an advertising major.” You say below your breath as you hurry to put your laptop back in your bag. “Thanks for the time. Don’t cram too much this time.”

When you get back to the room your friends were staying in, you tell them about the advice Hansol told you. They seemed to be completely fine with it, so you sent a message over to Chan. It was late into the night, so you were worried if he would even respond. During normal class days, the rooms would only be open up until midnight, so you knew you had to finish the draft if you wanted to pass it on time by tomorrow.

After a few minutes, he responds.

“Sure, I’m down. I’m over at the secret dance room if you want to talk about it.”

You quickly relay the news to your groupmates, and they make their adjustments to the output. Elated, you made your way downstairs. Now that the proposal was done, all you had to do was make the promotional video within the week. More than anything, you’re happy to be able to talk to him again, even if it was just going to be about school stuff.

From outside the back door, you could hear the same intense footsteps, dancing to their own music. You open the door, seeing Chan dancing away in the dark room. When he sees you, he gives you a small nod and takes off his earphones.

“Hey, still practicing late into the night in secret?” You say, remembering the first time you saw him.

“Same goes for you. Still making outputs late into the night, but not in secret?” He says with a laugh. “Let’s talk outside, I could need a breath of fresh air.”

Both of you find a spot on one of the benches surrounding a large tree.

“So, what’s the concept about?” He asks with a bit of tiredness in his voice.

You give him all the details of the video. You planned it to be short and impactful, heavily relying on whatever dance Chan could perform to make the output stand out. For the entire time, Chan listens silently, nodding from time to time. Once you were done, he gives his comments for the first time.

“Sounds pretty good. Let me know when you have the song decided and I’ll think of something.” He says, a little less energy this time.

The both of you sit in silence for a few moments, the late-night breeze flowing between both of you. Either you’ve been observing him too much, or Chan has been very obvious about it, but you notice that he’s not really as upbeat as he was before.

“How’s life going on?” You break the silence, hoping that he’d open up to you at least a little bit. “You don’t seem pretty good.”

“Well, it hasn’t been going as well as I thought it would be.” He says, trying to lift his tone, but failing terribly. “I don’t know. Would you care to listen?”

“Of course.”

That’s when he brings out a topic that you never thought he would talk about. On most days, he had to work at a part-time job and would only really have to practice at night. He always felt that something was lacking with the way he danced, which is why he would always practice in secret at the dance room downstairs in fear of judgment. On top of that, he works hard to do performances for the dance group he’s in. He lets it all out, all the insecurity and burnout that comes along with all the responsibilities that he’s taken on.

“I’m sorry, I’m talking too much. You should get back to your project.”

“No, it’s alright. There’s nothing to be sorry about. We’re done for the day anyway.” You take in a deep breath. You keep your eyes straight, looking at the row of trees in front of you. “How long have you been doing this?”

“I don’t know, perhaps since the start of my freshman year? I’m actually surprised that we only met now when I’ve been using the dance room for years. Apparently, it’s because we always use it at different times.” He leans back and puts his hands in the pocket of his hoodie. “Thanks for listening, anyway. Doesn’t really change my situation, but at least it makes things lighter.”

“Sure, anytime. I really don’t think you should be keeping your burdens all to yourself. It can get pretty lonely.” You say. You turn your head to look at him, finding out that he had been looking at you all this time. “What is it?”

“Does it ever occur to you that there are people who you are just meant to meet?” He says in a low voice. “Thank you for being that person.”

You feel your face heat up despite the cold temperature. You weren’t exactly sure how to take his words. He looks at you for a little longer before getting up and returning back to his normal, energy-filled self.

“Well, anyway. Let’s head back before the monitors come by and see us hanging out beyond the closing time.” He says, offering his hand to help you up.

You take the offer, and he helps you up. Instead of letting it go, he keeps your hand in his. This time, you really aren’t able to hide the redness forming over your face. All you hope is that it wouldn’t be too obvious under the moonlight. He lets out a small chuckle before bursting out in his usual reverberating laughter.

“Come on, let’s go.” You say, walking in front of him to keep him from seeing your face. He moves along with you, hand still linked with yours.

“Seeing you flustered never gets old.” He says between his laughs.

For someone with a lot of words, his actions were more than enough to make you understand. Just this was enough to make you happy, enough to make you believe that there really are people you are meant to meet. - END -

#seventeen x reader #svt x reader #dino x reader #lee chan x reader #seventeen #svt fic #seventeen fanfic #svt fanfic #seventeen fic #lee chan #chwe hansol #vernon

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champion-leon-imagines · 3 years ago

Text

Chronicles of Galar - Prologue 1: Taiko Hirebayashi

Some Info beforehand. This is going a pretty long fic with several chapters. But the chapters are somewhat different than normal fanfictions. Because they are just in chronological order but some of them are not actually connected to each other and some may have a greater timeskip than others. Imagine it like a readable diary of your adventures with just the mention worthy adventures added. But be careful, because this story is like a HELL OF A TOOTHROTTING-FLUFF fic. The main pairing is of course You x Leon. A side Pairing is Taiko(OC) x Raihan and a mentioned Pairing is Leiko(OC) x Piers Although, you won’t have to deal much with Leiko. But Taiko will get a bigger role since she becomes your best friend. Oh and if you wanna look for the Fic and it’s parts, make sure to follow the tag: Chronicles of Galar. Now enough Chatting, here is the introduction of the first character: My lovely tsun Taiko! And don’t forget: This is NOT proof read. English is NOT my first language. So please be gentle with mistakes.

[Prologue: Taiko Hirebayashi]

[9 years before the timeline in sword / shield]

“Taiko, honey. Don't run too far away from the camp. The wild area is teeming with Pokemon. ”, a woman, around her late 20s to early 30s with purple hair that was tied in a pigtail, spoke in a warning tone. She wore glasses and petted a Flareon, her loyal partner Pokemon. "Yes, mommy.", a 9-year old girl with fiery red hair replied cheekily. "And stop using this word, please. Did you learn that here in Galar? Please just call me mother. ”, she corrected her daughter. Ever since the holiday in Galar began, the child seemed to have increasingly adopted the linguistic peculiarities of the inhabitants of this region. "Okay, mother.", Taiko muttered and rolled her eyes in slight annoyance. She didn't thought it was that bad, because she loved everything in Galar. Much more than at her home in Ecruteak City, in Johto. Her mother was one of the dancing geishas at Ho-Oh's temple, which was why Taiko was promised an Eevee for her 10th birthday as a starter Pokemon. Like all geishas, she should learn the art of meditation dance one day, in order to command the awe of the holy phoenix pokemon. But now they were here, in Galar, enjoying a few days of vacation.

Taiko quickly got bored, however. In her tent, she started to felt shut in. Her toys were only entertaining for a short period of time. She wanted to explore the wild area and see Pokemon! No matter how much her mother told her not to.

The young redhead sneaked out of the tent, while her parents were talking to an employee of the Pokemon Rangers, because a wild Dynamax Pokemon attacked the Lake of outrage nearby. Therefore, a warning was issued to all traveling coaches and tourists to stay away from this lake in any case.

If that didn't sound like an adventure ..

Without even thinking about it, the girl simply ran through the wild area. Lake of outrage was relatively in the middle of the area and her parents' camp was quite far to the south, at a popular campground for out-of-towners. Because there were only weak Pokemon running around, which did not pose any danger to hikers.

So Taiko just had to walk south, right? ... But she didn't knew where the south was.

The extroverted redhead remembered her days in the scouts camp, which had taken place near Cianwood City. She remembered that moss grows on the northern side of trees because they are often in the shade due to the rays of the sun on the other side and the moss can spread there. So Taiko examined the surrounding trees and based on the position of the moss, she quickly knew where north was. She nodded proudly and then strutted north, full of energy.

Meanwhile in another part of the wild area.

“Pokeball, go!” an 11 year old boy with dark skin, casual clothes and a red headband that hid most of his hair, shouted. The pokeball hit a small, white spherical pokemon, which was vaguely reminiscent of a slug. The dragon pokemon Goomy. The ball wobbled three times before stopping and trapping the Pokemon. "YES!" the boy smirked and put himself in a victory pose, which, of course, nobody could see because he was alone. Shortly afterwards, he took his Rotom smartphone out of his pocket and took a picture of himself and his latest catch. Then he opened a social media page that was similar to Facebook.

'Look, I caught a Goomy! The dragon tamer Raihan has struck again! : D Soon nobody can stop me, so take a good look @Leon! I will be champion before you!'

With a grin, Raihan tapped 'Publish' and waited for the many likes from his friends and “fans”, as he liked to call his followers. It took less than 5 minutes before his best friend and rival had already made a like and comment.

'Wow, congratulations @Raihan! This Pokemon is totally rare! Unfortunately I haven't seen one yet. But don't be too early! Who will be champion first is still to be decided! '

Raihan grinned and replied, in his cheeky way. 'You have to find the stadium for our decisive fight first! XD I have enough time to train my Pokemon. '

The young man put his smartphone back in his pocket, he knew that Leon never accepted his provocations and therefore it was a waste of time to wait for an answer. “Come on, Vibrava. Let's see if we can find more cool Pokemon! ”He said to his partner Pokemon. The green, dragonfly-like Pokemon nodded eagerly and flew over the area, while Raihan grinned and followed his companion. He just loved looking for Pokemon in the wild area.

Back to Taiko. The young redhead was already regretting her spontaneous ideas and had to admit: she was lost.

This part of the wild area was so heavily overgrown by dense forest that hardly any sunlight penetrated through the thicket and consequently the moss grew on all sides of the trees. So it was impossible for her to determine in which direction she had to go.

"...MUM? DAD? DO YOU HEAR ME? ”And then she gave up and called desperately for her parents. Why the hell was she always so .. stubborn and had to give in to her curiosity?

The girl fell on her knees and began to cry. She was just too spontaneous and didn't think about the consequences. Now she was here in an unknown area, far away from her parents and who knows what else was lurking in the dark thicket?

A bush near her began to jiggle and that frightened the little girl. She stopped her emotional outburst and looked frightened at the bush. She crawled a few feet back from her almost sitting position and shivered as the rustling increased. Taiko swallowed lightly, trying not to make a sound to attract the attention of this unknown creature in the bush.

Suddenly a small, white rabbit pokemon rolled out with some somersaults. It had a kind of red fur in the shape of a plaster on its nose and its long ears wiggled and twitched as it straightened up and looked around. Taiko looked at the little Pokemon, which noticed her now too. It looked back. Neither of them moved for a few moments until Taiko blinked several times.

"How cute ..", she beamed and crawled forward on all fours. The little Pokemon stopped and tilted its head slightly as it watched the humans movements. "Scor? Scorbunny!" the little creature said. Taiko knew that Pokemon could only say their name, so now she knew the species. So that was a Scorbunny! She had never seen it before. Was it a regional Pokemon from Galar?

"Mmm, I think I have some candy somewhere …" the redhead mumbled. At least the situation calmed her down enough to forget about her outbreak minutes before ... She searched her pockets and actually found some fruit gums made from red haban berries. A very sweet type of berry that was perfect for sweets. Taiko smiled and offered the Pokemon some fruit gums. "Little one? You're are hungry, aren't you? ”She asked.

Scorbunny bounced closer and sniffed the girl's hand. Probably a first approach as to whether it could trust the person. As it took a fruit gum on its paws, it sniffed the gelatine again and stuffed it into its mouth. Taiko giggled as the Scorbunny gleefully chewed the fruit gum and then happily hopped up. "Scor! Scor Scor Bun?"

Taiko didn't knew what the Pokemon was trying to tell her, but from it's hopping around and staring at the fruit gums, it was obvious. It wanted more candy. The redhead smiled and gave Scorbunny a few more fruit gums. This time the Pokemon was braver and patted Taiko's hand with its paws before pounding on the fruit gums. Taiko had to laugh gently when Scorbunny let 5 fruit gums disappear into it's mouth at once and chewed contentedly. "You remind me of me." Taiko giggled.

Scorbunny finished snacking and as a token of gratitude, leaned it with its head on her arm and cuddled up to her. Taiko blinked slightly in surprise. Who could have guessed that wild Pokémon would approach humans so quickly? So obviously love goes through the stomach. Taiko smiled again and ruffled Scorbunnys fur behind it's ears. The Pokemon let out a satisfied purr and closed its eyes.

After a while, the Pokemon hopped onto her lap. This action surprised Taiko and she put both hands around the Pokemon. "It's so trusting .. it definitely belongs to someone ..", the redhead sighed, disappointed. She would have liked to keep the Scorbunny to herself. The two lingered like this for a few minutes until Taiko noticed that she was still in a quandary. She still didn't know how to get back to her parents. And the Pokemon was certainly not a sign back.

Slowly, the girl got up and let Scorbunny on the floor. “Go, your trainer is probably already worried about you.“ Taiko smiled and gave it a few last fruit gums before she continued on her way.

For the next 10 minutes she already missed Scorbunny .. She sighed softly to herself and stopped to lean against a tree. "Scorbunny ..." Taiko's eyes widened when she heard the Pokemon's call and turned around. Scorbunny was a few meters away from her. Taiko didn't even think for a second that it might be another Pokemon. It MUST be the same ..

When the Pokemon saw the girl kneel down, it ran into her arms and snuggled against the redhead's chest. Taiko straightened up and hugged the Pokemon. "You probably missed me too ..?", She asked and as if Scorbunny wanted to answer, it's nose nudged her fist when she raised her hand in front of it. Taiko smiled. "Then let's find a way back together." Scorbunny nodded and climbed onto her shoulder, where it made itself comfortable.

Taiko went on for a while, she didn't know how long, but it was already getting dark. Her parents were probably worried ... Then suddenly a huge lake was before her. Scorbunny sniffed the new surroundings and then tensed up with a menacing growl. The redhead swallowed at this cautious behavior. "The Lake of Outrage ...", she realized then. She wanted to run in the other direction when suddenly a giant Pangoro blocked her way. Apparently she had invaded it's territory because it looked angry. And aggressive.

The redhead stepped back, startled, and tripped over a thick branch. She fell on her bum and held her aching foot after she fell on it with her weight and cried out in pain. Pangoro seemed angry at the noise and stepped closer. It's dangerous threatening gesture made the girl's blood run cold. Scorbunny growled loudly and jumped in front of the girl as if it wanted to fight Pangoro.

"No..! This is an evolved Pokemon ...! It's too strong .. ” Taiko warned, but Scorbunny tried to attack with a double kick and jumped on the evolved Panda Pokemon. Pangoro held up Scorbunnys leg with one paw and tossed it back so that it landed in the mud next to the girl. "Scorbunny!" Taiko shouted distraught and took Scorbunny in her arms when Pangoro came closer and raised his paw for a blow. The redhead closed her eyes tightly and tears ran down her cheeks. "I don't want to die yet ..."

"Vibrava, dragon rush!", a boy's voice penetrated her ears and Taiko looked up when something enveloped in a blue aura slammed into the menacing Panda Pokemon from above in full speed. Pangoro was staggered by the recoil and Raihan jumped in front of Taiko, ordering his Vibrava to make further attacks. "Super power, now!"Raihan ordered, causing Vibrava to launch a wave of attacks on the Pangoro. The fighting Pokemon appeared to be extremely robust and put up with all attacks. "Damn it, well then we have no other choice. Vibrava, use sandstorm! "Raihan shouted. Then he turned to the girl behind him. "Cover your mouth and nose!"

Taiko nodded and pushed the scarf, that her mother had given her over, half over her face. Vibrava created a dense sandstorm that made the entire area so opaque that you couldn't see anything. It was only when Taiko felt someone put a hand on her shoulder that she recognized the outlines of the boy, who helped her. "Let's get out of here before the storm subsides," he said. Taiko tried to get up, but a strong pain in her leg made her fall back to the ground.

"Ouch .."

"Hey, are you okay?" Raihan asked, holding her to keep her from falling again.

"I must have broken my leg when I tripped earlier .. I can't step .." the redhead sighed in frustration. Raihan blinked for a moment and saw his Vibrava land on his shoulder. He knew the sandstorm wouldn't hold up the enemy Pokemon much longer. An idea occurred to him without further ado and he turned his back on the girl while he knelt down. “Climb on my back. I'll carry you. ", He said.

"T-I can't ask that of you ..", Taiko mumbled and shook her head vigorously.

“Come on, my tent is not far from here and the storm won't hold back Pangogo for long. We have to get out of here. ”, the young trainer explained and Taiko probably had no other choice. She sighed and climbed onto his back, the Scorbunny clinging on her shirt and holding onto her as the boy carried her away from the lake.

It really didn't take long, a maximum of 10 minutes, until the boy reached his tent and gently laid the young girl on his sleeping bag.

"Here we are. Uhm. What's your name anyway? ”The boy then asked with a smile.

"T-Taiko and what's your name?"

"Raihan. Are you a Gym Challenger too? " Raihan asked and saw how the Scorbunny had snuggled up with her and was sleeping. The redhead shook her head. “I'm not from here and I'm only 9 .. My parents and I are only here for vacation. I live in Johto. “, She then explained.

“Then why were you alone at Lake of outrage? It's not an approved campsite at all. On the contrary, it is strictly forbidden for travelers to enter here.“

"Uhm .. well .. I was curious because I was bored in the tent and .. then I somehow got lost ..", the redhead explained, embarrassed, and tugged on a strand of red hair. Raihan just looked at her before he laughed. This reaction offended Taiko now that she thought he was making fun of her situation.

"Hey, that's not funny, I was really scared!" She said with a pout and turned away with slightly flushed cheeks. Raihan wiped a tear of laughter from his face and grinned slightly before winking at her. "Sorry, I didn't laugh at you. Just .. I've done so much nonsense too. When I was 5, my father was camping here with me too and I saw a Trapinch and followed it to Lake of outrage too. My father had to save me from a wild Gyarados in the water. And I was just thinking that I was having a deja vu when I saved you, ”he admitted with a laugh.

Taiko blinked slightly.

"Uhm ..", she just wasn't quite sure what to say to that. "Thank you for the rescue ..", she said quietly, but still slightly offended, and turned her head away from him.

"You are welcome. But let's take care of your leg first. ", Raihan said and got a first aid kit from the corner of his stuff. Taiko lingered as quiet as a mouse, a rarity with her otherwise extroverted personality, when Raihan exposed the leg by lifting her pants up the affected leg and pulling down her socks to inspect the damage. “That looks bad. No wonder you can't walk. ", He said and took a rag that he moistened with a kind of disinfectant spray. "That could burn a bit now," he warned her.

The redhead bit her lip and squeaked softly as he placed the rag on the wound on her leg. Raihan smiled and praised her for how bravely she got through this action. She even had to laugh a little when he confessed that he had screamed like crazy when he was injured and his father wanted to treat him with the stuff too. She didn't know why, but somehow Taiko didn't feel so helpless anymore.

She watched spellbound as he expertly cleaned the wound and treated it with a bandage. "You don't seem to be doing this for the first time," she said then. Raihan blinked and then looked up at her as he kneeled in front of her to put his foot on his lap.

"Yeah. I have a clumsy best friend. His injury rate is pretty high when he's got lost. I don't even know how often I've been bandaged his falls and grazes. ", Raihan said thoughtfully and Taiko giggled. “Sounds like me. I am also at risk of injury. A miracle it was only the leg. ", She sighed. Raihan smiled and put her leg down again.

“You would certainly get along well. He exudes the same positive energy as you. ", Raihan said, whereupon Taiko went a little red in the face. However, she didn't know why. "I exude positive energy?" She asked.

"Sure, of course. You can see that just by how Scorbunny has taken you to its heart! I thought to myself that it wasn't yours when you said you were only 9 and not from here. So it's a wild Pokemon, but it behaves like you've been training it for years. ", The boy remarked, whereupon the girl's cheeks turned even darker. "Uhm .. I'll take that as a compliment .." she whispered, slightly embarrassed. "It was one." Raihan winked and was amused by the shy behavior of the girl. At the lake she had behaved differently. Then there was a short silence between the two of them until Raihan reached for his smartphone. For once, he wasn't interested in his social media activities. “Which campsite are you at? In the east or in the south? ”He asked.

"Uhm .. south?"

"All right." Raihan smiled and started dialing a number.

"Who are you calling?"

“Mr. Pascal. He is practically the lessor of the campsite. Your parents surely miss you. So I'll give him our coordinates so that someone can come and pick you up. Because I can't carry you the way to the campsite. ”At this comment the redhead blushed again and turned away slightly. “Your last name would still be helpful to find your parents more easily. "..Hirabayashi."

Raihan called and talked to Pascal for a few minutes until he had passed on all the informations. About the aggressiveness of the Pokemon at Lake of outrage, about the injured girl and also their whereabouts. Then he thanked him and hung up. “They can't send a rescue team out until tomorrow morning because they'd have problems finding us and transporting you. I told them that you can spend the night with me in the tent and that you are safe. ", Raihan said. "Uhm .. but you only have one sleeping bag." Taiko spoke. "But that doesn't matter .. I can sleep on the floor."

Raihan sighed.

“There is no way of letting a girl sleep on the floor. You sleep in my sleeping bag, I sleep on the floor. " He said.

"Never."

"Well, then we'll both sleep on the floor if you don't give in." Raihan shrugged his shoulders, whereupon Taiko rolled his eyes. "Then give in.", She said and shrugged her shoulders. Raihan grinned slightly and folded his arms behind his neck.

"Only if you sleep in my sleeping bag." Was the devious answer. "To what extent is that giving in for YOU?" Taiko asked now and crossed her arms in front of her chest. The two just looked at each other for a few moments before Raihan sighed in defeat. "Well, let's make a compromise.", He said, which made Taiko sit up and take notice. “It gets darn cold here at night anyway. If we cuddle up a little ... together, we can both sleep in the sleeping bag and the body heat prevents us from half-freezing to death. "

His suggestion made Taiko look shocked. He wasn't really serious, was it? She didn't know this boy at all. But now that he said it, it was actually quite fresh. "..."

"You can of course also become a living Vanillite if you prefer that.", Raihan said and spread out the sleeping bag. "Okay, okay. It's only for one night. ", She gave in, whereupon Raihan had to laugh again.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

The next morning, Taiko's parents and some of the wild area staff members went to the location of forest that Raihan had described for them. It wasn't long before they found the tent, which was guarded by a Duraludon. “This is Raihan’s tent. It has to be. " Pascal remaked, before Taikos parents ran to the tent. "Taiko ?!"

Taiko blinked, she was still half asleep when she yawned and snuggled into something warm. This warmth moved slightly, from which the redhead woke up. She wiped away the sleep on her eyes and then saw how she was snuggled up against Raihan, her legs tangled and his arms pressed her to his chest.

The girl quickly broke away from him and Raihan woke up too. "Woah?"

The redhead ignored him and let her mother hug her tightly.

"What kind of things are you doing?" Her mother scolded her. "I'm sorry .. really .." the girl apologized and was then pulled into a hug by her father. "Never do that again," he said then. "You're hurt, aren't you? I'll carry you back. ", He said then and wanted to pick her up. "Wait, dad ..!" Taiko stopped him and then turned to Raihan. She made a beckoning hand gesture that signaled him to come closer. "Thanks again for everything, Raihan. I hope to see you again. ", She smiled and hugged him goodbye. Raihan smiled and hugged back. “Well, if you ever want to visit Galar again, you are always welcome. Until then, I'm champion and you can visit me in my palace. ”He laughed. "The champion lives in a palace?" Taiko asked and her eyes widened greatly.

"I dunno, but definitely!", Raihan laughed then, whereupon Taiko had to laugh too. "Well, see you at some point, hopefully. And take care of yourself, you risk-of-injury. ", He said teasingly.

Taiko was then carried back to the campsite and was even allowed to keep Scorbunny.

And what should she say?

5 years later, she set foot in Galar again after her divorced mother wanted to start a new life over there and Taiko seized the opportunity and followed her to see the cute boy from back then again.

#Chronicles of Galar #Leon #leon pokemon #pokemon leon #pkmn leon #champion leon #raihan #pokemon raihan #gym leader raihan #raihan pokemon #Leon x Reader #Pokemon #pokemon sword and shield #pokemon shsw

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shishi-tls · 5 years ago

Text

Kanroji Mitsuri’s Secrecy

I’M DONE WITH THIS, FINALLY, BANZAI.

Okay, here’s my surprise (and Christmas present) for everyone. This is chapter 3 of the second novel of Kimetsu no Yaiba (Kataha no Chō). Each chapter’s the story of one character, so it’s not like you missed part 1 and 2 of Mitsuri’s story.

I apologize it took double the time I thought it would take me, I honestly thought about giving up many times ohohoho. But hey, here you have it.

This is a mid-quality translation, I do believe it’s readable, but there’re some parts I didn’t give too much thought and left them as short or simple sentences. I tried, okay?

This is a fantranslation, there could be mistranslations. Read at your own risk.

Also, typos, grammatical errors, whatever there is, just leave a relpy and I’ll try to fix it as soon as possible.

Last thing: if you want to put this up on another website or translate it to another language you’re free to do so, BUT LET ME KNOW, OK?

One Winged Butterfly

Chapter 3: Kanroji Mitsuri’s Secrecy

1.-

The first time I met her I thought ‘wow, such a pretty girl’.

Pure white skin and clear violet eyes; stunningly beautiful and delicate; kind and doesn’t discriminate anyone.

But, can create things like poison to kill Demons.

Strong and intelligent, cute, brave… a lovely girl.

I would be very happy if we could be friends. We are both girls, so there should be a lot of things we could talk about…

That’s why, when I heard about it, my head went blank and couldn’t think about anything.

“Kochō-sama’s parents were killed right before her eyes, and on top of that her sister Kanae-sama too… dying in such a way…”

Ah….

I didn’t know.

Shinobu-chan. I didn’t know.

“Well you see, I joined the Demon Slayer Corps to find a gentleman who would marry me for life. For a girl, it’s actually better someone who’s stronger than themselves, no? We want to be protected. Hey, Shinobu-chan, don’t you think so?”

If I’d known, I’d never said that.

Such a frivolous reason.

If I had known Shinobu-chan’s past, I wouldn’t have been able to say it.

Ah, how stupid of me.

When I told her that, how did she feel?

She was a little startled, but then she answered with the smiling face she always has.

‘I see… Who knows. I’m sure Kanroji-san will find someone wonderful’.

It must have been really unpleasant and annoying, right?

Did she think she didn’t want to be together with such a simpleton?

Hey, Shinobu-chan…

I’m.

You see, I…

2.-

“Kanroji-san’s acting weird?”

Kochō Shinobu tilted her head to the side at her coworker who came so suddenly.

They’re currently inside her office at the Butterfly Estate, where she –as the Insect Pillar– lives. This is a place where poison effective against Demons is developed and Slayers are treated or nursed after being wounded in battle. Therefore, most visitors are wounded people.

However, her coworker Iguro Obanai came here without a single scratch and as soon as they met, he started to talk anxiously about the Love Pillar, Kanroji Mitsuri, with a serious face.

“In what way is she acting weird?”

“Everything, she’s weird all around. You haven’t noticed?”

Iguro makes that question and looks at her as if accusing her for something.

As some sort of signal, the snake wrapped around Iguro’s neck sticks out its long tongue. It’s Kaburamaru, the Snake Pillar’s beloved snake.

“Hmm, well…”

Shinobu with the tip of her index finger softly traces around her upper lip. She tries to remember Kanroji’s behavior in the last Pillar meeting, however…

“Nothing in particular”.

“Just where do you have your eyes attached to?” Are those stupidly big eyes of yours blind? Or maybe just decoratives?”

After some nagging, Iguro made a big sigh.

Shinobu stopped herself from speaking her thoughts out loud ‘unlike you, I don’t exchange letters with her frequently’ and just smiled and apologized.

“Oh my, I’m very sorry”.

Even though it’s daytime and Demons can’t move around, each Pillar should be very busy as they shoulder a lot of heavy responsibilities. However, he pushed all of those aside and came here, so he isn’t doing this just for show or on a whim. Despite his appearance, Iguro cares about his colleagues more than others.

“It’s fine if they’re things you saw from your own scope, so could you please tell me what’s so strange about Kanroji-san?”

Once Shinobu asked again, Iguro nodded with an obedient look.

And then…

“Just fifty”.

“Yes?”

“Normally, she would eat a hundred of those dango sticks, but she only had fifty. You hear me? Just fifty. That Kanroji. Her favorite dangos.”

“……”

Being stared fixedly by his bloodshot eyes right in front of her, Shinobu unconsciously stepped back. Contrary to her, Iguro leaned forward.

“Moreover, she replies coldly to my letters. Her letters are awfully plain and seem to be written to a stranger. Why? It’s weird. Anything and everything is weird.”

“Aoi, Iguro-san’s already leaving.”

Shinobu turned her back to Iguro, walked to the room’s door and said “Iguro-san, the exit is over there.”

“It’s not just that”.

Despite Shinobu’s sarcasm, Iguro kept talking.

“In the last Pillar meeting, Kanroji didn’t even try to look at the eyes of any Pillar. And not only the Pillars’, Oyakata-sama’s too.”

Shinobu turned around with a surprised face.

Every Pillar respects and loves dearly Oyakata-sama –Ubuyashiki Kagaya– from the bottom of their hearts. Mitsuri’s not the exception, she also cares about Oyakata-sama. As far as Shinobu knows, Mitsuri has never opposed his will and would even put him above everything else. It was certainly strange for someone like her to avert her eyes from Oyakata-sama .

“And after that, Tokitō picked up a handkerchief she had dropped, but when he tried to talk to her she jumped high enough to reach the roof and ran away.”

“Yes, that seems strange”.

If Mitsuri was herself, her heart would have throbbed and expressed her gratitude honestly by saying ‘thank you, Muichirō-kun’.

“Was it then when you first noticed something strange on her behavior?”

“No, she was already acting weird 12 days before that.”

Shinobu was full of retorts at him answering immediately and with such detail, but that aside, this meant Mitsuri has been like this for nearly half a month.

By all means, this was worrisome.

“There could be something wrong with her health. I’ll try to ask her indirectly, you think about something too. Got that, Kochō?”

After voicing everything he wanted to say and seeing Shinobu nod, he left the Estate. Shinobu, left alone in the examination room, sat down on the chair. There was no need for him to go all the way to visit her, he could’ve just wrote a letter and sent it with a crow. It’s quite charming that Iguro cares about Mitsuri to that extent, but…

“Good grief. When it comes to Kanroji-san, Iguro-san immediately becomes unreliable.”

Relaxing her body, Shinobu let out a short sigh. It came to her mind the cute face of the only other Pillar of her same gender, Kanroji Mitsuri.

“Shinobu-chan, Shinobu-chan.”

She’s older than her, but has an innocent smile and becomes attached to others just like a kitty would. Thinking about the face that had crossed her mind, Shinobu gently narrowed her eyes.

Outside the windows, the wind blew against the cherry blossom trees and shaked its branches, now with only leaves left on them.

3.-

A thin and soft katana ran in a moonless night, almost as if it was alive.

“Breath of Love, First Style: Shivers of First Love!”

A greatly bended sword cuts a huge Demon up to pieces at lightning speed, its head rolled over the ground.

Mitsuri exhaled slightly, for some reason she felt her body heavier than usual and her katana wasn’t cutting as sharp as it should. It was distressing, her head was like in a haze.

“Thank you… thank you very much!”

The couple she had saved was thanking her, the man was bowing his head over and over again while the shivering woman asked her

“Are… are you okay?”

“Huh? What do you mean?”

“Well… You’re hurt…”

“Oh, no, I’m not…”

Mitsuri noticed the woman was looking at one of her cheeks and wiped it with the back of her left hand. There was blood on it. Seeing this, she finally understood she’d been injured.

“For our sake… because you protected us…”

“We’re really grateful, thank you so much…”

The woman apologized while crying and the man lowered his head once more. Mitsuri waved both of her hands flustered.

“Ah! Don’t worry about it! This is nothing at all, nothing! I’m sorry for making you frightened. But, I’m happy you’re both okay.”

Mitsuri smiled at them and the man was suddenly moved to tears.

“To tell you the truth, my wife’s actually pregnant.”

“Uh… really? You’re having a baby?”

Surprised, Mitsuri looks at the woman who finally shows a smile. Her cheeks which were wet with tears shyly transformed into a smile.

“Yes, the due date should be in around 3 months.”

Her belly did seem plump.

“I see, congratulations. Take care of your body.”

“We owe you our lives, thank you very much.”

The man says his thanks again and afterwards, the couple cuddled close together and disappeared into the night.

Mitsuri, while watching them until they were out of sight, lifted her hand to her chest.

Thump thump, her heart pounded.

If that Demon’s attack had cut that woman’s belly instead of my cheek…

As soon as she imagined it, she found herself terrified.

That Demon wasn’t weak, but it wasn’t very strong too. If I had been myself, I’d have saved them without getting a single scratch.

(And everything would have ended well, without that pregnant woman making such a face…)

The wet night wind caressed her cheeks. Mitsuri gently ran her fingers over the wound.

There was almost no pain.

But she couldn’t help but feel like something very important was falling and spilling over from that opened wound.

4.-

“Sigh…”

Finishing her night round and exposed to the brilliant sunlight, Mitsuri dragged her heavy body through the city.

She went in her favorite restaurant and ordered some tempura rice bowl, cold soba with dipping sauce, grilled fish with rice and miso soup.

It seemed quite a lot to eat as a breakfast, but for Mitsuri this amount was like a tenth of what she would usually eat.

Shortly thereafter, tea was brought to her and she sipped it absentmindedly.

She gave a sigh again.

Since that time she became eager in disciplining herself and made sure to not have any superficial feelings towards anyone.

In short, she sealed away her love. She’d to give up finding someone who would marry her for life and committed herself to forbid her heart to flutter every day.

However, it seemed like someone was mocking her because things that would make her heart flutter happened one after another.

(I wonder why… it’s only at times like this… )

The timing was so bad that brought Misturi to the verge of tears. The last Pillar meeting was specially the worst.

That day she and the Flame Pillar, Rengoku Kyōjurō, ended up at the same place by looking for a shelter from the rain and he told her “You’re going to catch a cold! Put this on, Kanroji!!”, covering her with his haori. She also saw an unexpected side of the Rock Pillar, Himejima Gyōmei, saying “Namu. Cats are cute…” while carrying in his arms a kitten. Then, she met by accident with the Wind Pillar, Shinazugawa Sanemi, just when he was feeding a stray puppy. On top of that, she spotted the Water Pillar, Tomioka Giyū, taking a nap in the open corridor and waking up with a sudden jerk. Moreover, she tripped but Uzui catched her in his arms before falling to the ground telling her “be careful, don’t go tripping so plainly.” And finally, Iguro inviting her to a newly opened udon shop.

Mitsuri was depressed because she had to suppress her heart from throbbing every time, but she just couldn’t help it.

… In the end,

“Mitsuri, is something troubling you? If you don’t mind, you can talk to me.”

(I even made Oyakata-sama worry… and when I was leaving, Muichirō tried to tell me something but I just ran away.)

This is the worst.

I got too nervous around Shinobu and couldn’t even look at her face.

(What… am I doing?)

And the final blow: she got hurt while fighting an enemy who wasn’t even part of the Twelve Demon Moons.

Mitsuri dropped her shoulders dejected and restlessly ate her tempura rice bowl brought by the waitress.

(Is it really okay to keep on like this?)

Thinking absentmindedly, she dropped the tempura she had picked with her chopsticks into the bowl. Inside of it there was still more than two thirds of rice left. She should be hungry, but she didn’t feel like eating. In fact, everything she tried to eat was tasteless and felt like chewing sand. She hadn’t felt like this since her first marriage interview was broken off.

“Kanroji-san, your body shape is the same as other people, but you’ve eight times more muscles than them. In other words, your muscle density is quite high.”

The one who told her this was none other than Shinobu.

“That’s why, you have to eat a lot. People who have more muscles have a higher basal metabolic rate. So please, do at least eat eight times more than a regular human does.”

“But, for a girl… to eat that much, um… won’t people be disgusted? won’t I be disliked?”

“You don’t have to forcibly stick with someone who would stop you from taking the nourishment you need. You should just do this to that kind of people.”

Saying that and keeping that lovely smile of hers, she made as though she was hitting someone with her fists.

“Right?”

“Geez, Shinobu-chan…”

Mitsuri had no idea how much those words and smile had saved her.

A few days after this exchange with Shinobu, Mitsuri went with Iguro to have some lunch. She timidly ordered what she wanted to eat. Iguro, who ate the least among the pillars, only asked for tea and something small to eat. In spite of Mitsuri’s fears, Iguro did not reproach Mitsuri for her gluttony, on the contrary, he insisted her ‘eat this too’ and ordered more food.

He was also the one who casually gave her those long striped socks without asking for anything in return when she was too embarrassed to use her uniform, which showed too much skin, and wasn’t able to burn it right in front of the tailor like Shinobu had done.

“Kanroji, so you were here after all.”

Mitsuri lifted her head in surprise at the sound of a familiar voice and saw the very face of the one she was thinking about just now.

She was taken aback by this.

“I, Iguro-san!? Why’re you here!?”

“I was looking for you to talk about something.”

As if it was the most natural thing to do, Iguro took the seat in front of Mitsuri and, for some reason, frowned deeply.

“Kanroji, what happened? That…”

“Uh?”, without thinking, she looked down at her rice bowl flustered.

“Did I drop some rice?”

Or was she eating sloppily? Oh no, did she have food on her face?

Mitsuri was getting really nervous, however Iguro had questioned her because of something entirely different.

His next words were colder than ice.

“Why is there a wound on your cheek?”

“Ah! This? This is from yesterday’s night round… I got careless and…”

As soon as she replied in a flurry, Iguro’s eyes became immediately slanted.

Iguro was rather a cool-headed coworker, but seeing him for the first time making such a grim face made her break out in a cold sweat.

(He’s angry. He must be disappointed with me getting injured when I wasn’t even fighting one of the Twelve Moons. What should I do? Is he fed up with me?)

While Mitsuri was earnestly trying to make herself as small as possible, Iguro suddenly jumped to his feet.

“Where is it?”

“Uwaa!”

Mitsuri could only shrug her shoulders as a reflex.

“Where’s that trash.”

“Eh?”

“The trash that ruined your rosy cheeks.”

“Eh…ah, well…”

Mitsuri was about to answer him she had already beaten it, but Iguro interrupted her groaning with deep hatred.

“That trash deserves certain death. I’ll go now and cut him into small pieces.”

Mitsuri stopped him in a hurry as he was already trying to leave the shop.

“W, Wait, Iguro-san! It’s already gone. Umm… You see, I cut its neck that same night… so…”

“…”

Finally coming to his senses, Iguro stopped his bloodlust and went back to sit in front of Mitsuri again. Then, he covered his forehead with a hand and apologized.

“Sorry.”

And muttered a few words very embarrassed.

“Me of all people…losing my mind in anger.”

“…Iguro-san.”

(So, you were not angry with me…)

On the contrary, he was really worried about her.

She felt her heart slowly getting warmer.

Come to think of it, Iguro has been kind to her ever since she joined the Corps, he would help her whenever she was troubled with something. He, who would awkwardly address her

—Kanroji.

“There’s something troubling you, no?”

“Eh?…”

“If you’re okay with me, I’d like you to tell me.”

“Iguro-san…”

“I want to help you, Kanroji.”

“!”

Her chest tightened and her heart made a loud noise at his sincere voice and serious gaze, but at that instant, Shinobu’s face came to her mind.

“…!! I can’t!”

“Kanroji?”

Mitsuri jumped to her feet and Iguro looked up at her dumbfounded. She couldn’t look at him in the eyes.

“I, I just remembered I have some stuff to do! Sorry. I’m leaving, okay?

Coming up somehow with those words, she thrust her money at the shopkeeper and almost tripped rushing out the shop.

(I’m sorry, Iguro-san! I’m so sorry.)

Even though you are worried about me.

Even though you want to help me.

But, that will only make my heart leap for him…

If that happened, instead of getting help, I would just get stuck in an awful situation. I can’t always rely on him.

She left the shop as if she was running away from it.

Several buildings away, she finally calmed down.

(This is something I have to do alone. I can’t rely on Iguro-san forever.)

She slapped her cheeks with both hands with energy.

However, the haze in her head wasn’t cleared in the least.

And then, a few days later—

“Haaaah….”

Mitsuri’s condition, instead of improving, only got worse day by day. It felt like she was extremely suffocated and her body was as heavy as lead. Maybe this was the reason behind not being able to use the Breath of Love properly. It was clear it has weakened.

(I really wonder what’s wrong with me…)

Can I keep on as a Pillar like this?

In the end, I’ve only been feeling miserable and got a message from Shinobu to boot.

Please, come to the Butterfly Estate whenever it suits you.

Mitsuri would normally be happy with this kind of invitation, but this time it only troubled her even more.

(What would Shinobu-chan want from me?)

It’ll be too awkward to see her now… but I can't’ ignore her.

Just when she had started to walk heavily towards the Butterfly Estate, she heard an “ah!” coming from behind her.

“The Demon hunter… sis*?” (nee-chan*)

She turned back at the perplexed voice.

“Yeah, I thought so! It’s sis!”

Some time ago, Mitsuri had saved a boy and his mother from a Demon. Today that boy was standing in front of her, with a smile in his tanned face.

“I’m glad. I’ve been looking you forever, sis.”

“Me?”

Mitsuri blinked her eyes.

“What is it? Some advice? Is something troubling you?”

“…”

Suddenly, the boy’s behaviour changed and became aware of his surroundings. Lowering his voice he told her:

“Actually, the restaurant where my mom works is close by.”

It seems he doesn’t want her mother to know about whatever he wants to tell me.

“Mom will get mad if she hears this.”

A mere child just talked as if he were a grown up man.

“Oh my….”

Holding back a laugh, Mitsuri decided to take him to her favorite teahouse which was some distance away from there.

Sitting right outside the teahouse, the boy happily stuffed his mouth with dangos.

“Have you been well? You’re all grown up! You’re a lot taller now.”

“I’m like 15cm taller since that time.”

“15cm. Boys surely grow up fast.”

Mitsuri smiled with a wide grin. She had a younger brother around the same age as this boy and couldn’t help but see him in this child.

“So? What did you want to talk with me?”

The boy gulped down the dangos and slowly opened his mouth.

“Y’know, I want to be a carpenter.”

“Oh, that’s good. Are you good at making things?”

“Yeah, kind of. My deceased dad was a carpenter.”

“Oh…”

She wasn’t sure how to reply.

However, the boy was attentive to her and kept talking.

“It’s okay, my dad died 3 years ago already.”

He fixed his deep dark eyes on the sky.

“He got swept away by the river and drowned when he was building a bridge. He was a skillful carpenter, but he was a poor swimmer.”

“So that’s what happened…”

Mitsuri lightly bit her lower lip and looked at the boy’s tanned face.

Her mind strongly recalled his mother when she saved both, holding his son with large tears running down her face. Even now she remembered vividly how she kowtowed, bowing her head over and over again.

“Thank you so much for saving my son. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.”

Now that she’d heard what had happened to the father, that memory became a heartrending one.

“Because of that accident my mom won’t let me become a carpenter, it makes her remember about father. She says she wants me to become an apprentice and live in a haberdashery or kimono shop… but, I don’t want to become one of those. I want to be a carpenter.”

The boy tightened his grip of his hand and continued.

“I’m keeping it a secret from mom, I’m planning to become an apprentice of a boss who was an acquaintance of my father’s. Everything’s been arranged.”

“… Why are you telling this to me?”

Mitsuri asked him confused. They boy hesitated at first but then answered brusquely.

“‘Cuz, sis, you were super cool when you saved me and mom.”

“Eh…”

She was extremely puzzled. At that time, she had just joined the Corps and was a lower ranked Slayer who only had her strength to boast, but wasn’t competent at all. She got cut all over and it took her a lot of time to chop off the Demon’s head. Anyways, she had been desperate. She hadn’t been in a state in which she should receive some flattery or even be called cool.

“But, y’know, I was really weak then! Like, I could only reach a lame victory and… I wasn’t cool in the sligh-”

“You were cool!!”

The boy shouted, cutting off her words.

“You fought with everything you got, for us, for complete strangers. Despite being a woman, you went so far as getting all battered… sis, you were cooler than anyone.”

The boy’s honest words pierced her heart.

Maybe because of his excitement, the boy’s earlobes were turning red as the sunset.

“Seeing you like that it made me think. I want to be like that too, doing what I really I want and be of help to others. I don’t want to give up or regret anything. That’s why, it doesn’t matter how much my mom cries for it, I’m going to become a carpenter and show everyone I can make a bridge that surpasses my father’s.”

“…”

“I was looking for you forever because I wanted to tell only sis about this. Okay then, thanks for the dangos.”

Saying that, they boy ran off. There wasn’t even time to call him out.

His back grew smaller and smaller until he dissapeared in the crowd.

“…”

Mitsuri stared in a daze at the spot she last saw him…

5.-

“Kanroji-sama, thank you for visiting us. Shinobu-sama’s waiting for you.”

After arriving at the Butterfly Estate, Kanzaki Aoi guided her to the training area with a troubled face. Mitsuri tilted her head while trembling.

(Why at the training area?)

Just as the name implies, that place is a dojo where injured soldiers go through a training regiment to boost their recovery process and also where Shinobu trains herself and her Tsuguko.

Mitsuri had visited the Butterly Estate before, but this was the first time she was called to the training grounds.

With a worried face, Aoi left her alone and she timidly opened the sliding door to the dojo.

“Umm… Shinobu-chan?”

“Hello, Kanroji-san.”

And there she was, at the center of the vast dojo. She was sitting with two bamboo swords at her side. However, she wasn’t smiling as usual.

With a frosty look, she grabbed both swords, stood up and tossed one of the swords to Mitsuri.

(…Eh?)

She caught it with her hand reflexively.

Shinobu, still stone-faced asked her.

“Could I ask you for a match?”

Despite making a request, it seemed that Shinobu had no intention of listening to her answer as she readied her bamboo sword and pointed it towards Mitsuri.

“Eh?… Wha- Eh? Shinobu-chan?”

While Mitsuri was confused and not able to understand the situation, Shinobu gave her a sidelong glance and rushed in without making a sound. In the blink of an eye, she closed the distance between them and knocked the sword in Mitsuri’s hands off.

The low pitched sound of the sword hitting the floor resounded in the dojo.

“Just now—”

Shinobu glanced sharply at Mitsuri who stood still and dumbfounded.

“You don’t even have half of your strength. If you were yourself, it wouldn’t have mattered how low your guard was, you’d have dodged that easily.”

“…Ah… Um…”

Shinobu’s voice had a strict tone, almost as if she was reproaching her. Mitsuri became flustered.

“It looks like you can’t use the Breath of Love properly.”

“Th- that’s… Um…”

What she said was exactly correct and made Mitsuri more and more dispirited.

Shinobu let out a soundless sigh and lowered her sword. She directed a chilly look to Mitsuri’s body.

“You look pale and your cheeks are hollow. You haven’t been eating enough to keep your muscles healthy, have you?

“!!”

“I’m not strong as a swordswoman, however Kanroji-san’s different. What makes you an excellent swordswoman is your talent to use a longsword as it pleases you without worries, your incredible flexibility, the strength you got by birth and, above everything else, your overwhelming honesty.

Mitsuri fell completely silent.

“Kanroji-san.”

Shinobu addressed her emotionlessly.

“Why are you trying to make yourself weaker?”

Her heart jumped from the shock.

She fearfully looked at Shinobu, who was already looking back at her.

Mitsuri gulped, but the sound of it felt like another person had done it.

If she was going to talk, now was the moment.

But—

(No… I can’t say it…. I just can’t.)

If she said it frankly, it would just hurt Shinobu. She would make her remember unpleasant and sad things—

No, wrong. In truth, she was scared of saying it. Mitsuri was deceiving herself by thinking it was all for Shinobu’s sake, when it actually was for her own. She was too afraid of being hated by her precious friend if she confessed, of destroying their friendship and losing a friend.

Mitsuri casted her eyes downwards to avoid Shinobu’s eyes and squeezed her hands.

(What should I do… Something else, I could tell her another rea-)

At the instant she thought that, a voice sounded in her ears.

— You were cool!!

Ah…

Mitsuri lifted her head energetically.

That boy told her she was cooler than anyone when she was still a novice. She had felt a huge relief and was happy they were alive.

She’d thought she finally found a place where it was fine to stay, aside from her family.

Thank you.

It was actually Mitsuri the one who wanted to say those words.

(I can’t….I mustn’t tell lies.)

If I do it, I won’t be able to stay here anymore.

I won’t be able to face Shinobu ever again.

(I have to tell her properly… my feelings.)

She shut her eyes tightly, then opened them and looked directly at Shinobu’s eyes.

“—Shinobu-chan, I…”

Just by saying those few words, her mouth went dry. She knew she was speaking in a shrill voice.

“I… heard it…. from the Kakushi….about Shinobu-chan.”

“….”

Shinobu’d been watching her, still with a cold expression. Even now, there couldn’t be seen any change in her emotions.

If she really had complete control of her emotions, just how much training did she go through to reach that?

A girl whose parents were slaughtered by Demons right before her eyes and whose beloved sister was snatched away too.

The pain and sorrow almost made Mitsuri’s heart falter, but she eagerly fought them back.

“… I, was embarrassed at my reason to join the Corps… to find someone special and love… I felt sorry for Shinobu-chan. I thought I shouldn’t be like this, I needed to pull myself together… But,”

Sealing away her love made her surprisingly weak. The connection between her heart and the Breath of Love was deeper than she’d thought.

“I finally got it now. I can’t do that. I have to become stronger being myself. If not, I won’t be able to protect anyone.”

She became afraid of being hated by those precious to her and as a result she neglected those she was supposed to protect. She unreasonably weakened the power and strength given to her by birth and tried to live in falsehood. All when she’d supposedly decided to live somewhere where lies were not needed and use this power granted by her parents to save as many people as she could…

“This is me! This is Kanroji Mitsuri!! My heart leaps for many kinds of people, I eat a lot and I’m really strong! … But… I, I—”

“…..”

“Shinobu-chan… I really love you, okay?”

Saying that and before she could close her mouth, Shinobu’s pure white throat started to move slightly.

“Aside from me, there’re a lot of members in the Corps who had their parents snatched away from them by Demons.”

Mitsuri’s heart throbbed in pain at her calm voice.

“Aoi, Sumi, Kiyo and Naho too. Their families were killed by Demons and had nowhere else to go, so they live here with me.

Mitsuri was hanging her head again, but a soft voice reached her hears.

“However, me and those girls would never be jealous of your situation or loath you because of your reasons for joining the Corps. But, well, I was surprised at first when I heard it.”

“Eh?…”

Mitsuri heard a giggle slip out in the last sentence, she lifted her head in surprise and saw Shinobu with a smile playing on her lips. Their eyes met.

With Shinobu’s cold expression gone, Mitsuri was warmly wrapped in with her usual gentle smile.

“Everyone here harbors hatred and grief, and despite licking each other’s wound, we can’t move forward. For us, Kanroji-san’s cheerfulness and smile is what always saves us.”

“Shinobu… chan…”

In Shinobu’s eyes, she could see herself ready to burst into tears.

Her deep violet eyes looked the same as the first time they met, they were the most beautiful thing in the world.

“So, please, don’t do things like lying to yourself. I really like you as you are.”

Unable to endure it, she clinged to Shinobu who was way smaller than herself. Lukewarm tears were shedded one after another.

“Shinobu-chanShinobu-chanShinobu-chan!!!”

“I’m sorry for testing you like that.”

“No, it’s fine! Really fine… I was being stupid.”

Still clinging to her Mitsuri shook her head, tickling Shinobu and making her laugh.

“Please, from now on you have to eat properly, okay?”

“Yeah, I will! I’ll eat a lot. And get stronger!”

“Iguro-san was worried too.”

And added a few more words in a whisper.

‘To the point of being a little overprotective.’

“Yeah, I’ll apologize to him too. And to Muichirō-kun…

Wahhhh.

Mitsuri cried like a child and Shinobu softly patted her back with her small hand, in the same way one would do it to a baby.

Then, she murmured.

“—To tell you the truth, I was always jealous. Jealous of your constitution.”

“Eh?”

“If I too had muscles like you, if I was taller… Then…”

“Shinobu… chan?”

“I said too much, please forget it.”

She muttered in her arms.

What was she going to say after ‘then’?

Mitsuri felt like the words left unsaid were full of feelings strong enough to be heartbreaking, feelings which would rather burn down everything.

The only swordsman who can’t cut off a Demon’s head among all the Pillars.

The body she was holding now felt so fleeting, or rather it was like a child’s, that it made her cry loudly once more.

She promised herself again.

That she’d live without making lies.

That she’d kill as many Demons as possible.

And she’d protect as many smiles and happiness as she could.

So that she can live proudly with her cherished friends in this precious place—.

6.-

“Kanroji-san, why did you join the Demon Slayer Corps?”

“Uh? Me?”

In the corridor of Tecchikawahara’s mansion, Kamado Tanjirō asked her a question.

This boy, who joined the Corps to turn her sister back to a human, had fiery red eyes. They were really pretty.

He was looking at her straight into her eyes, it almost made her shrink back.

“It’s kinda embarrassing… Oh, what should I do. You wanna hear?”

Mitsuri fidgeted.

Nezuko, who through her Demon Blood Arts had shrunk her boy to the size of a child, looked up at her curiously. Mitsuri gently brushed her black hair.

“You see…”

— Kanroji Mitsuri continued her story with a smile in her face.

FIN

TL:SoMeBoDY kILL ME

#kimetsu no yaiba #kimetsu #demon slayer #one winged butterfly #kataha no cho #translations #Kanroji Mitsuri #iguro obanai #kochou shinobu #pillars #love pillar #snake pillar #insect pillar #hashira

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works-of-fanfiction · 5 years ago

Text

Keep Me Company [Steve Rogers x Reader]

Summary: The reader is convinced to go on a double blind date by her co-worker. Throughout the evening, it becomes clear that someone other than her date, has peaked her interest.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Warnings: Some swearing.

Word count: 4.7k

A/N: I haven’t written in over a year so this isn’t the best! This idea kinda sucks and turned out to be a lot longer than I wanted it to be, but I hope someone likes it regardless 🖤

———————-

[Reader’s POV]

“I’ve told you before, I’m really not interested in dating anyone right now,” I reiterated, shaking my head at my coworker, Ivy. She’d somehow managed to get herself roped into a blind date, and she’d spent the past week desperately asking every female at work to go with her.

“Please, Y/N! My cousin organised this and my date is bringing a friend. I can’t show up alone, it’ll be so awkward,” She’d now invited herself to sit at my desk, and I sighed out of annoyance as I closed my laptop and looked over at her, “Please? You’ll be my lifesaver.” She batted her eyelashes at me like a child begging their parents for an expensive toy. I mulled over it for a moment, and not a single scenario in my mind resulted in a good outcome. Has anything good ever come out of a blind date? To me they just seem super uncomfortable for everyone involved, with at least one party praying for the clock to move faster and for the ordeal to end. I didn’t really want to go, but the image of Ivy arriving alone to be faced by two strangers gave me a major wave of secondhand embarrassment. I knew I wouldn’t want to go through that, so I couldn’t let her walk into that either.

“Alright, alright. I’ll go with you, but you owe me one! Big time,” I gave in. She rose from the chair and grinned at me, heading towards the door.

“I’ll go and forward the reservation details to you. My date is called Steve, and you’ll be meeting his friend, Sam. Oh, I’m so excited!” She clasped her hands together and did a little dance on her tiptoes before disappearing out of my office. I groaned, catching my head in my hands. What have I gotten myself into?

—————-

As instructed by an extremely antsy Ivy, I arrived at the restaurant at 7.30pm on the dot. She was waiting outside for me when my taxi pulled up, and I could instantly see how nervous she was as she leaned against the restaurant window, bouncing her knee. “Y/N! You’re here! I thought you might bail on me,” she said, her voice shaking slightly. Ivy was always filled with so much energy, but with the added nerves she was even more jumpy than usual and couldn’t keep still for a second.

“So, do you have any idea what these guys look like?” I asked, hugging myself to try my best to stay warm. I didn’t understand why we couldn’t just wait inside, but Ivy insisted we greet them properly as soon as they arrived.

“I have an idea of what Steve looks like, but my cousin really wouldn’t let me see his picture for longer than five seconds,” she replied, her teeth chattering a little from the cold breeze hitting us both. A black car soon pulled up outside and Ivy straightened, brushing herself down, “This must be them. How do I look?”

“You look great. Just relax,” I offered her a small smile as we watched the car doors open. I looked away for a moment and rolled my eyes at the whole ordeal. There was Ivy, standing there like an excited schoolgirl and playing with her hair like her hands were glued to her head. Then there was me, lazily dressed at best and already feeling the urge to check the time. Again, why did I agree to this?

“You must be Ivy, and Y/N,” a voice said. I snapped back and turned to face them properly. I could literally hear the breath getting caught in Ivy’s throat as a quiet squeak came out of her mouth. But I couldn’t blame her, as I blinked heavily to try and make sense of the two men standing before us. I knew the names Steve and Sam sounded familiar, but I didn’t realise we were literally going for dinner with two of the Avengers. Immediately, my ‘couldn’t care less’ attitude towards the evening shifted, and the pressure was on. I’d agreed to a blind date, a blind double date, and I was paired with Sam Wilson, Falcon himself. No matter how the evening went, I knew I had to at least make a good impression. I couldn’t embarrass myself in front of an Avenger.

“I’m Y/N,” I stated, mostly aiming my smile at Sam, but feeling the stare of both men on me. I waited for Ivy to introduce herself after me, but she stayed silent. I gave her a little nudge and she still didn’t say anything, so I put my arm around her shoulder for encouragement, “and this is Ivy, who I think needs a drink! Should we go inside, Ives?” I patted her back in a final attempt to get her to speak.

She cleared her throat, eventually opening her mouth to answer, “of course,” she turned to Steve and held out her hand to shake his, “sorry I uh - dry mouth,” she lied as he shook her hand awkwardly. I didn’t know whether to cringe or burst into laughter, so instead I just led everybody into the restaurant and got us seated at our table.

I didn’t know what to expect of the night ahead. Ivy was already a nervous wreck and she’d barely introduced herself to our company for the evening. I kind of felt sorry for her. I mean, her cousin could’ve pre-warned her that her date was someone as high-profile as Captain America! I think any girl would faint at the sight of him sitting across from them at a restaurant. Even I couldn’t take my eyes off of him and he wasn’t even my date to gawk at.

We quickly ordered drinks and read our food menus in silence. I could feel Ivy’s foot dancing under the table, so I reached over and placed my hand on her knee to calm her down. She looked at me and mouthed an apology. I couldn’t believe how nervous she was, she looked pale white like she was going to throw up any second. “How about we get a sharing appetiser to start? They sound really good,” Sam suggested, lifting his menu and pointing at one of the pictures. Thank God for him breaking the silence, because I felt like I could scream out of sheer awkwardness.

“Dough balls, chicken wings, tempura shrimp, mozzarella sticks... it doesn’t take much more convincing for me!” I enthused, reading the rest of the selection. I glanced up to see Steve looking at me, a wide smile on his face that reached his eyes. I felt my cheeks heat up, and I could’ve quite literally slapped myself for getting so excited over Captain America smiling at me. I didn’t want to turn into a giddy, fidgety teenager. We already had one of those at the table.

“What do you think, Ivy?” Steve asked her. She nodded in agreement, and everything in me wanted to grab her by the shoulders and shake her. Why was she being so weird?

“Um, would you mind ordering the appetiser for us? I’m just going to go wash my hands. Ivy, come with me,” I stood up and grabbed her arm, almost dragging her out of her chair and towards the bathroom. Once inside, she stood in the mirror, vigorously scrubbing her hands and glaring at her own reflection.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me, Y/N! I just can’t speak, the words won’t come out!” She panicked, pretty much splashing water everywhere. I leaned against the counter with my arms folded, trying to think of what I could say to her to improve this situation.

“I know this is not exactly ideal -“

“Ideal?! This is a nightmare! I thought my cousin was just going to set me up with some loser she knew from work. I didn’t know it would be Steve fucking Rogers! I’ve made myself look like such an idiot,” she frantically dried her hands with a paper towel, her pale face growing redder by the second. I grabbed her wrists and took the paper towel from her, tossing it in the bin beside me.

“Listen,” I started, keeping my grip on her wrists and making her look me in the eyes, “You’re not the only one who is nervous, and I too thought it was just going to be a couple of loser guys wanting some company. Neither of us expected bloody Captain America and Falcon to show up, but here we are. Just don’t take it so seriously. Try and have fun, be yourself!” I internally cringed at how cliché I sounded, but if I wanted this night to be painless, I had to snap Ivy out of her weird mood in any way I could.

“Y - You’re right. You’re right! Just be myself,” Ivy repeated, more to herself than to me. I quickly washed my hands and we went back out there, re-joining the guys at the table where the drinks had now arrived.

I sat down and couldn’t help but notice the extravagant drink that was placed in front of Steve. It was bright orange in colour, with grapefruit slices on the rim and a neon green umbrella wedged in the top of it. I couldn’t help but quietly giggle at the sight of this muscular mountain of a man, drinking something that looked like it belonged on a beach in Hawaii in the hand of a bikini-clad model. “Aren’t we going to address the elephant in the room?” I laughed, putting down my menu.

“Do you mean that literal elephant ornament over there, or the tropical vomit that Steve is drinking?” Sam joked, picking up the cocktail, “Have you ever seen a liquid that colour?”

“Hey!” Steve grabbed the glass, cautiously placing it back down, “it just tastes better, okay? I didn’t know it would come with its own accessories,” he gestured to the grapefruit decorating the glass.

“I wouldn’t complain Steve, it’s the best part,” I added. He picked one of the slices from the glass and held it in front of my face.

“For you, m’lady,” he mocked in a posh accent. I glanced at everybody at the table and Sam was flashing his cheeky grin, whilst Ivy’s expression was a little less readable. I couldn’t tell if she was still just riddled with nerves, or if my interaction with Steve was bothering her. Either way, I leaned forward and took a bite out of the grapefruit, holding my hands underneath my chin as the juice dribbled everywhere.

“Oh damn,” I mumbled, still chewing the fruit. I grabbed a napkin and attempted to clean my sticky hands. Steve was chuckling quietly, as he went to take a sip of his no-doubt delicious cocktail, “that was messier than I thought.”

“That was a weird mixture of amusing, erotic, and disgusting,” Sam laughed. It felt as if we were all just staring at Ivy, waiting for her to join in, but all she could offer was a shy smile before she buried her head back into her menu to choose a main course. Sam looked at me from across the table with an inquisitive expression, gesturing towards her with his eyes. I just shrugged, glancing back over at Steve who just so happened to look at me at the same time. As we made eye contact, a light fluttering feeling invaded my stomach, and I didn’t know whether to just allow myself to feel it or to feel bad for wishing I could swap seats with Ivy. Don’t get me wrong, Sam was a great guy, but something about Steve was turning my insides to mush, and I hadn’t even been in his company for more than twenty minutes.

Our appetiser soon arrived, and we each ordered our main courses before we dug in. I kept trying to give Ivy subtle nudges and hints so she’d join in more, but she was still pretty quiet. She was trying her best, but it was clear that Steve was close to giving up on making conversation with her. “So, Ivy, Y/N,” Steve started, wiping the sides of his mouth with a napkin, “what do you both do?” I slowly chewed on a piece of shrimp, with Ivy looking at me as if she was waiting for me to do the talking. I signalled to her that my mouth was full, hopefully giving her a little push to answer the question.

“Y/N is one of the HR executives, and I uh - I work on the same floor in IT,” Ivy shakily explained, her voice quiet but it was better than stone cold silence.

“IT, huh? Well you could teach me how to get along better with technology,” Steve said to Ivy. She just looked down at her plate and mumbled something I couldn’t even hear. Sam shot me another one of his confused looks, and I really wished I knew what to say to get Ivy to speak up a bit more, or at least attempt to create a nice atmosphere for the rest of us.

Regardless of the slightly awkward atmosphere, we continued to eat and make conversation where we could. Steve and Sam asked a lot of questions, which I was too scared to return at first. What do you ask an Avenger? I don’t want to sound like an interviewer asking them everything about their lives and how they’ve quite literally saved the world multiple times. Throughout the conversation I learned that I have a lot more in common with Steve than I would’ve anticipated. I don’t know what that says about my character, given that Steve has lived more of his life in the early half of the 20th Century. Sam poked fun at me for some of my interests, calling me an old woman, but I soon silenced him when I threw a mozzarella stick at him which covered his cheek in breadcrumbs.

I tried to concentrate on Sam, in hopes that it would somehow force Ivy to actually pay attention to her date and make more effort. However, I couldn’t stop my eyes from wandering back over to Steve, where he sat with a warm smile on his face as he tried his best to get Ivy to communicate. He’d been asking us both questions all evening, but he was really only getting answers from me. I was really enjoying their company, and Sam made me laugh until my stomach hurt, but something inside of me wished I was sitting across from Steve. He was being the perfect gentleman, and his occasional compliments made my cheeks feel like they were on fire from all the blushing I must’ve been doing. At one point, Sam even told us to ‘get a room’ and if I wasn’t so busy trying to silently calm myself down, I probably would’ve had a sarcastic reply ready.

—————

We split the bill equally, and the guys quickly went to the bathroom before we left, so Ivy and I waited outside. “Steve’s really nice,” I stated, trying to fill the silence between us. I could understand her shyness in front of Sam and Steve, but she didn’t need to be so strange around me.

“He seems to really like you,” she muttered, folding her arms and sighing. I couldn’t tell how she was feeling, but she was really starting to bug me.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, trying my best not to sound irritated. She’d hardly said more than ten words all night, and I was running out of ways to cover for her and make conversation on her behalf. She looked at me with a frown, keeping her arms tightly folded across her chest, “what? You can’t be mad at me for talking to Steve, you didn’t exactly make this night easy for him.”

“You knew I was nervous! You couldn’t just sit and talk to Sam, you had to get all chatty with Steve and make me look stupid.”

“I made you look stupid?! Don’t you realise I spent most of the evening starting conversations for you? I had to bring up topics I knew you liked to get you to speak, and even that didn’t work. You can’t blame me here.”

I leaned against a nearby lamppost, resisting the urge to roll my eyes at the stupidity I was being forced to listen to. Ivy continued to rant at me about how I’d ruined her evening by getting along so well with Steve, and how I probably planned to ‘steal her date’ all along. “I did you a favour by agreeing to come to this. It’s not my fault that you sat there in silence most of the time. We all tried our best, you know we did,” I retorted. She stood there glaring at me, probably searching for something else she could say to try and justify her nonsense.

Suddenly, the restaurant doors swung open and out stepped Sam and Steve. “Do you ladies wanna go grab dessert somewhere?” Steve asked, his tone a little hesitant. I couldn’t blame him, I’d be hesitant too after spending almost two hours sitting opposite the human equivalent of a brick wall. I glanced at Ivy who was still stood with her arms folded, scowling like an upset toddler.

“I’m not feeling so good. I’m just going to head home. It was nice to meet you both,” Ivy said to them, without even bothering to make eye contact, “see you at work Y/N,” she murmured, before walking off down the street and disappearing around the corner.

“Do you think I should’ve gone with her?” Steve asked, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Usually I would say yes, but in this case, I don’t think you’re inclined to do anything,” Sam said honestly, placing a hand on Steve’s shoulder. He pulled the car keys out of his pocket and unlocked the car, walking around to the driver’s side, “enjoy your dessert!” He called over, winking.

“Wait, where are you going?” I asked, a sudden wave of nerves hitting me as I realised what he was implying.

“It doesn’t take a fool to know where he’s not wanted,” he replied, pushing out his bottom lip jokingly.

“Sam! Don’t say that,” I walked around to the driver’s side and he placed a hand on my arm, smiling down at me.

“Now I’ve never seen Steve have a crush, but I’d say you’re pretty close,” he said quietly, probably so Steve couldn’t hear. I glanced over at the Super Soldier pacing the pavement and whistling to himself, and the all-too-familiar fluttery feeling returned to my stomach, “but don’t let him have too much dessert, he’s a superhero remember.”

“Sam, you don’t have to leave.”

“I had a great time tonight, despite the uh - well despite Ivy,” we both laughed and I couldn’t suppress the huge grin that spread across my face, “I’m sure I’ll see you around at the Avengers HQ sometime.”

“Now you’re planning way too far ahead,” I slapped his arm playfully, before thanking him for making the date bearable at least.

“See you later old man!” He shouted over to Steve as I walked back around to join him. Steve just snickered and shook his head, waving off his friend as Sam got into the car and drove away. I stood beside him, my heart pounding as I tried to figure out how I ended up here. As bad as I feel to admit it, I guess I only have Ivy and her weird behaviour to thank for this.

“So, where are you taking me Captain?” I asked, standing opposite him and looking up into his eyes. My knees felt shaky and weak beneath me, and I mentally scolded myself for behaving like such a cheesy rom-com character. Steve maintained eye contact as he brought his right hand up to my face. I shivered a little as his cold fingers brushed my temple, as he moved a piece of hair out of my eyes.

“I was going to suggest ice cream, but perhaps it’s a little too cold for that,” he stepped back and shrugged his jacket off of his shoulders, “here.” He wrapped the jacket around me and I slid my arms into the sleeves. Steve laughed at how oversized it was on me, as he tried to fold the sleeves a little. I caught my reflection in the restaurant window and I smiled to myself. Strangely, the image of myself standing opposite Captain America whilst wearing his jacket, was something that made my heart do somersaults. The gesture was so simple, yet so thoughtful.

“I have an idea, but we’ll have to make a stop along the way,” he smiled, holding out his hand. I placed my hand in his and agreed to let him lead the way. After all, I was way too caught up in the moment to protest and I was excited to see what he’d come up with so last minute.

We walked a few blocks and stopped at a bakery. It was five minutes before closing time, but Steve insisted it was the best place to grab something for dessert. I waited by the door as he spoke to the cashier. They handed him quite a large paper bag, then we were soon back on our way to wherever he was leading us to. We walked for a little while longer before stopping in front of the museum. “I know it seems strange that I’ve brought you here, to a museum literally dedicated to me, but I’ve got a deal with the security guards here and it’s kind of relaxing to be here after closing,” he explained, before lightly knocking on the glass door. A security guard eventually let us in, and I kept ahold of Steve’s hand as we walked through the exhibits.

I read everything on the walls and stopped to look at every single picture. Steve was never far behind, either holding my hand or resting it on my back as I engrossed myself in all the information the museum had to offer. I’d never had the chance to visit before, and I was learning more and more about Steve as the minutes passed. “Do you remember all of this?” I asked, my eyes still fixed on a photo of him surrounded by other soldiers. They all looked happy to be together, to be a team.

“Every single second,” I turned to look at him and he gazed into the glass case, his eyes scanning each picture. A smile crept onto his face and he looked down at me, his smile widening as our eyes met.

“You miss it, don’t you?”

“Things are definitely different now,” he took my hand and we continued to walk on, stopping in front of a group of mannequins wearing uniforms, “it’s a time I’ll always cherish. But that doesn’t mean I’m not happy to be here now. There’s so many people I’ve met that I am so grateful to know,” he reached forward and ran his fingers along the fabric of his old uniform, that same reminiscent smile appearing on his face, “including those I’ve met on slightly disastrous double dates.” He turned and winked at me and I just rolled my eyes at his corny remark, whilst failing to ignore the butterflies dancing in my stomach.

Our last stop was a room with a large screen projecting video clips of Steve and those from his past. Instead of sitting on the benches, we went to the front and sat on the floor with our backs against them. Steve reminded me of the treats he’d collected from the bakery, and placed the bag between us. “I always go to this bakery, because not only do they have the best cakes, but at night they throw in a few extras that they couldn’t sell,” he explained excitedly, ripping the bag and laying it out flat. An array of colourful cupcakes and pastries were laid out in a box, and my mouth almost watered at the sight, “by the way, the cinnamon roll is mine.”

“Damn! I was just about to call dibs,” I pretended to sulk and he sighed, opening the box and ripping the pastry in half, handing me the piece that was slightly bigger, “oh I’m flattered.”

“I couldn’t possibly deprive you of it. It’s just heavenly,” we both took a bite at the same time and audibly groaned at how good it tasted. I giggled as I noticed the icing all around his mouth, “what? Is there something on my face?” I couldn’t stop laughing as he looked down as if he was trying to look at his own cheeks. I rolled up the sleeve of his jacket and wiped his face with my thumb.

“Did you get napkins by any chance?” I asked, as I realised my hand was now covered in sticky icing. Steve rummaged through the box and found a stray napkin at the bottom. I wiped off my hand and leaned back, laying my legs down on the ground as I propped the upper half of my body against the benches. “So, what’s this video about?”

“Well that’s me,” he pointed at the screen as the footage showed a group of soldiers walking through some trees, “and those are the soldiers I rescued from one of the Hydra bases. That’s my best friend, Bucky.”

“He’s a Super Soldier too, right?”

“Uh huh, but I can still kick his ass,” he winked, nudging me with his elbow. He shuffled closer to me and rested his arm on the bench behind me. I could feel the warmth from his skin on the back of my neck, and there was nothing I wanted more than to rest my head on his shoulder and snuggle up to him.

“Y/N, do you think it’s weird that I brought you here?” He asked shyly. I looked over at him and his brows were furrowed slightly, which just made me want to grab him in a hug and tell him not to worry.

“Not at all. I love learning about our country’s history, and who better to educate me than Captain America himself?” I smiled, and I saw his chest rise and fall as if he was letting out a breath he’d been holding, “I’ve had a really great time with you, Steve. Part of me wishes we could’ve skipped the first couple hours of the evening,” I joked. I was so comfortable in Steve’s company that I almost forgot about the awkward dinner we’d engaged in earlier.

“Can I confess something?”

“Of course.”

“When you introduced yourself, I was so jealous that you were Sam’s date and not mine. My eyes found you as soon as I stepped out of the car, and I don’t think they’ve left you all evening. I’ve loved getting to know you, chatting to you, laughing with you. I’m really glad you came tonight,” he fidgeted, playing with the hem of his shirt nervously. I tried to think of what to say, but I was speechless. Nobody has ever said anything like that to me before, and I certainly never expected to be overwhelmed in such a way by someone as amazing as Steve.

“I - I just don’t know what to say,” I breathed, my heart thumping so hard that it felt like it could explode at any moment.

“Perhaps we could start with this - Say that you’ll meet me again.” He sat up and faced me directly, a hopeful smile on his face. I sat up and placed my hand on top of his, giving it a comforting squeeze.

“Of course I will,” I spoke quietly, nearly whispering. I couldn’t quite believe what was happening. My head felt cloudy and tingles ran down my spine out of sheer excitement. Steve wanted to spend more time... with me! How did I get so lucky?

“I have an idea! How about, we meet right here? I’ll bring takeout, we can perhaps try and get a movie to work on the projector. It can be our spot,” I suggested, desperately hoping that I didn’t sound ridiculous. Steve grinned, squeezing my hand in return.

“I would love that.”

“Then it’s a date.”

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fanfiction #fluff #the avengers #marvel #mcu #captain america x reader #captain america #sam wilson #falcon #chris evans x reader #chris evans #anthony mackie #oneshot

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arthurflecksgirl · 4 years ago

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Hiiii it's me again😂❤️ Can I have a ff where Artie Is at Arkham and it's his last day in. and x Reader comes to pick him up from the hospital🥺 and they go home together, and as always if you want to add some cuddles or She helps Artie to take a warm bath🥺 It would be nice

Oh my dear friend, thank you so much for the request. It was a very emotional ride and very intimate to write. I hope with all my heart that you will like it. Love you so much!

💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚

The moment the door opened you felt your heart crumble. That heavy, white door with the tiney window. He must have stared at this window for so many nights.

The bed was empty. For a second you feared that he broke out of the hospital. If that was the case they would find him and lock him up again. Way longer than last time. The thought of being seperated from him for another few weeks or months seemed unbearable. Looking back at the last weeks without him made you wonder how you managed to stay sane yourself. The empty bed, the stillness of his empty apartment...it felt like the walls were closing in on you. Night for night was spent on his couch, alone, trying to remember his skin on yours, pressing his pillow close to your face to smell the remains of his sweat and shampoo that got caught up in the soft fabric.

He was missing from you like a part of your very own body. And now you`re gonna get your missing part back. Taking it home with you. Filling his apartment with love again.

Your eyes searched for him. That room. Standig between these four walls made you feel snowblind. All the white. Even Arthur was dressed in white. The only contrast was his dark hair .

Arthur was sitting in the corner of the room. Crumbled up on the floor, like a piece of paper. Like a love letter that wasn`t well written enough to send it, so the writer just formed it into a ball and threw it across the room.

But you wanted to read it. Every sentence. Every letter. You wanted to take that page and uncrumble it. Make it readable again, to realize how beautifully written it actually was. Poetry. The purest form there ever was.

Arthur was the poem who remained unnoticed. Unseen by so many. Even by the ones who wrote him.

The doctor kept looking at you, talked about last night and how Arthur kept whimpering your name. But all you could do was focusing on that one curls that fell to Arthurs forehead. His head was hanging heavy on his shoulders. He looked downwards.

"Artie, darling? I`m here. " you got up to him to knee on the ground.

Arthur finally lifted his head. The circles under his eyes darkened since you saw him two days ago. He looked exhausted as you gently stroke his hair. A tired smile crossed his sad eyed face. His curls felt greasy like he didnt washed it for at least a week.

"You look tired, darling"

Arthur tried to get up but he seemed so much weaker than he was when he got here.

"Im so tired, Y/N. I`m so very tired." He sat down on the floor again "You`re really here aren`t you?"

"I am. Its your last day. I will take you home with me now".

Arhur started to cry "Can you please hug me. I need to feel that this is real. I want to hug you but....I can`t"

It was now that you realized that he was still in his handcuffs.

You wrapped your arms around him so tight you felt his ribcage poking you. Silent tears fell from his eyes onto your shoulders. "I missed you so much, Arthur. I was so incompleate without your breath on my neck at night. "

He nodded, unable to answer. He just cried.

"Cry, sweetheart.its okay let it all out. It`s over now. You can go home with me. No more lonely night in this cold room. We`re gonna go home now and I`m gonna make you a nice, hot bath before we disappear under the sheets.

The doctor looked at you with disguise "A hot bath sounds like a plan. Mr Fleck refused to take a shower for 9 days straight. "

You didnt liked the tone in her voice.

"Why is he still wearing his handcuffs anyway?" you asked.

"Because you can never know with him." The doctor replied, giving him a dirty look.

You wanted to tell her how damn rude she was but you kept silent to not risk anything.

"And he refused to eat,too. We actually thought he wated to starve himself to death in here. Which is illegal."

The anger inside of you grew with every word she said, but you concentrated on Arthur and supported him to get up. "C`mon, darling. We`re gonna leave this place now."

Arthur once again fell into your arms, desperately trying to touch you with his cuffed hands. You held his fingers inside your fist "You`ll feel better soon, I promise."

The doctor took a step closer and got the keys to unlock the handcuffs. "Goodbye, Mr. Fleck. " her voice sounded cold and heartless. You noticed her taking a step back as Arthur looked up to starte into her eyes. Almost like she was afraid of him. How could anyone be afraid of him?

Arthur didnt answer. The second his hands were free he hugged you with his whole body. So tight it felt like you shared the same jumpsuit. He held your face between his hands. They were as gentle as always. The most gently hands in the world. He seemed different. But still the same. His fingertips stroke your face, your cheekbones and nose, your chin. "I missed touching you, Y/N. Oh, I need to touch you so bad. " The intensivity of his eyes never left, even when he looked as tired as he did now. He was so touch starved. Just as you.

"Not in here, Mr Fleck. You know the rules." The doctors voice really got on your nerves. Did she had any idea how hard it was not being able to share your love ? Did she even knew how it felt to be in love? To be forced to leave your other half behind? At a mental hospital?

You both ignored her, touching each others faces "I missed the taste of you" he breathed upon your mouth, right before your lips met. Arthur kissed you with all that was within him. His mouth was dry from all the medication. His lips cracked. But his kiss was full of love and admiration for you. Full of longing and pain.

Your fingers ran through his messy hair. It was getting even longer than usual. Almost reaching his shoulders.

"Please!" The doctor started to sound angry. "This is not allowed! You`ve got enough time in your hands when you`re out of this building".

Your lips parted again.

"Thats right Dr. Finn. Goodbye." you grabbed Arthurs hand and lead him out of the room.

Before you left Arkham Arthur was lead into the changing room, where he got rid of his white clothing. He looked so much more like himself when he got back. His brown cardigan made him look softer than ever before. He touched the soft, worn out fabric of it, convincing himself that this was all real. Grounding.

It felt good to leave this bulding which became his second home after so many years of being in and out. A home that felt more like a prison since there was someone waiting for him outside these walls.

The whole way home on the tram Arthur rested his head on your shoulder, closing his eyes. He needed sleep.

"I havent slept for days" he whispered while you sqeezed his hand. "I couldnt close an eye without you by my side. Even the sleeping pills couldnt help."

"We`re gonna make you rest as soon as we get home, Artie."

Artur almost drifted off into sleep on the ride home. Leaning on your shoulder was enough to make him feel save enough to get sleepy.

When you arrived home you took off his sweater and pants "You`re freezing, baby."

"I know."

"Do you still want to take a bath before going to bed?"

"Yeah...please! I feel kinda... dirty".

You kissed his forehead and handed him a bathrobe "Put this on while the water is still running. It will keep you warm. I will make you some soup, okay? You gotta eat something,too."

Arthur nodded "Okay. But...I`m afaraid my stomach cant hold it. They gave me some new meds and it was getting worse again. "He looked ahamed as you walked into the kitchen to boil some water. "Dont worry, Artie. We`ll go slowly. But we have to try. I wont let you go to bed with an empty stomach today. It must have been days since you had eaten something. "

Arthur followed you into the kitchen. He needed to be near you every second. He looked so lost in his bathrobe. So helpless.

"Alright, the soup will be done when you finished bathing. " you smiled. Arthur mirrored your smile and followed you back into the bathroom. He stil walked like he had his handcuffs on, which was a sad thing to wittness.

Arthur froze when you helped him out of his bathrobe and into the bathtub. He was even skinnier than usual. His body looked like he was close to a break down. His shoulderbone seemed like it was about to burst through his fragile skin. He`s got some small bruises on his wrists and his tummy was sucked in.

The warm water felt like an embrace as he let himself sink into it. He immediately closed his eyes and awaited your touch.

"I`m so gald to be home" he mumbled as you started to shampoo his sweaty hair. Washing his beautiful curls always felt very intimate to you. You had a thing for his hair. Every strain of it was holy to you. Every curl a poem.

You noticed a small wound on his forehead as you tried not to let the shampoo run into his eyes. "You`re hurt"

"I know. It was my fault. I did it to myself. I`m sorry if I disappoint you"

"Artie, you could never disappoint me. Do you hear me?"

He nodded.

"I love you more than anything, Arthur"

"My whole life I never loved anything else" he replied.

You stopped washing his hair for a second to lean in to kiss him. The warm water dripped down his forehead. You tasted his shampoo upon your lips.

He was home with you.

Life was sweet.

You took the sponge and washed away the pain and loneliness. Every bad memory, every sleepless night at Arkham. You washed it all way. Watching the pain dissappear in his eyes.

Arthurs musicles started to relax under your tender touch. Even his tense tummy.

He was thankful for all the attention, the love. A smile crossed his face after he got out of the bathtub. You hugged him while he was still naked.

"You feel better now, sweetheart?"

" A lot, Y/N. Thank you. I`m trying to eat some soup now. Just for you!"

"Thats great, Artie. lets do it" you handed him oneof his sweaters. "Um....can I have....would you let me wear one of yours? " he asked with his little voice.

"Of course, Arthur. Oh god, sure. Wait I will get you one!"

A minute later you came back with your fave sweater. Arthur slipped into it like it was his.

"Thank you so much. Its so comortig to wear your clothes".

"Anytime, baby" you got the bowl of soup.

Arthur sat down on the couch. He didnt even asked for a cigarette.

You noticed his eyes watering.

"Whats wrong, Artie?"

"I`m afraid I might throw up. I`ll be so embarassing."

You took the spoon and put it to his lips "There is no reason to be ashamed. The important thing is to try. If you have to throw up its okay. "

"I threw up at Arkham and they yelled at me"

"I´m not gonna yell at you."

"I know....I know that." he whispered.

Arthur swallowed after you fed him the first spoon.

"Is that okay?"

"Yeah."

"Another?"

"Yeah"

You fed him three spoons of soup until he was close to spit it out again.

"Its okay, baby. Take your time. We`ve got all the time in the world to make you eat."

"Thank you so much, Y/N. I dont know what I would do without you."

Arthur waited five minutes until he was ready for another four spoons.

"I´m proud of you, Arthur. Really. You`re doing great.

"Thank you Y/N. For helping me with that. I think thats all I can eat for today. But maybe....tomorrow. Or later when I wake up. Maybe you can leave the bowl of soup next to my bed"

"Sure, darling." You kissed the corner of his mouth and placed the bowl on the table.

"Try to get some sleep now. I`ll be right here with you".

Arthur layed down on the couch as you joined him.

His huge blanket covered both of your bodies.

"Finally" he muttered, pulling you close to his heart, burying his face in the crook of your neck, kissing it gently as he breathed you in.

The familiar smell of his own sheets helped him relax.

"Y/N?"

"Yes Arthur?"

"Would you....like...sing me to sleep or something?"

"Of course,my love"

Arthur closed his tired eyes as your voice quietly echoed through apartment 8J.

"The moon is a silver dollar shining up in the sky

There is a dream we can buy.

Sweetheart you and I

The moon is a silver dollar

Made for lovers to share

And with you in my arms

I`m a millionaire

Our care in troubles

Will all be small change

Someday they all change

Into a dream come true

The moon is a silver dollar

What a glorious sight

Lets invest at him love

Tonight"

---

@impulsiveclown @ben-solos-writing-avenger @jokerownsmysoul @missjoker96 @arthurskitten @lynnesm @nonnymousse @gwynplaine89 @damnrightobsessedwithim @sgtsavoytruffle @duhliriouss @sadjesterautumn @therealjokerking10 @flowerglitterwoman @thirstforfleck @spookyhome @iartsometimes @you-cant-cry-in-here @bustafatclownnut @jokerismyhubbie @jokerflecker @check-out-this-joker @darknessisafriend @nicoleverse @mdme-rosary @arthurhappyclown @neon-umbrella-for-stella @cherrymoon75 @call-me-harley-quinn @arthurjokersgirl

@aarthurfleckk @mylovelycrazyworld @clownalog @ajokerfangirl @the-one-who-is-chaos

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crystalgirl259 · 4 years ago

Text

The Flame and the Dragon Ch2

Chapter 2: The Dreamer

"Shit! Fuck! Dammit!" Kai growled as he once again reached the last page of the leather-bound novel he had been reading. He turned the last crisp leaf only to find the last page, telling that the Dragon Lord still had to find his true love, so yellowed with age and stained that it was beyond readability. No matter how many times he read his favorite story, it frustrated him to no end that the ending remained a well-kept secret. With expert care, he closed the antique book, being extra careful with the antiquarian treasure.

Gold claps and hinders lined the corners so the leather would not wear out too quickly.

Red, orange, white, and blue jewels were embedded into the twists of each corner, while a gold clasp with a leather strap kept the book locked when it wasn't being read. Gold patterns adorned the exquisite cover while faintly glowing letters spelled out the title. The spine was equally studded with gold corners binding it together and studded with dully-glowing jewels. The pages were aged and yellowed but worn in a way that made it clear the book was not only well-used but well-loved.

Running a hand through his spikey brown hair, he gently placed the book back in his bag.

Then he interlaced his hands behind his head before leaning back against the trunk of the tree he currently occupied in a laidback manner before gazing at the clear blue sky above him. The teen had tall, thick spiky brown hair, shaped like fire, and bright amber eyes that shined like burning embers. He had a focused expression on his face, with a scar visible on his right eyebrow and a bandage above his left. He wore a red half-zipped-up jacket over a white shirt with some kind of Japanese symbol on the back of the jacket and brown pants.

Nineteen-year-old Kai Smith closed his eyes with a contented sigh before happily trying to drift off to sleep.

He wanted to escape the shackles of life outside the wide acres of land and forest surrounding the small home he occupied with his beloved sibling. If only to escape for a moment.

"KAI!"

"AHH!" He cried out as the sudden noise caused Kai to bolt from his serenity, and momentarily forgetting where he was, he maneuvered to see what it was that had woken him. The sound of giggling from above forced his eyes open, and he came face to face with the adorable face and sweet, innocent smile of his younger adopted brother. He had long, blonde tousled hair, and brown arched eyebrows with bright emerald green eyes that many people would state could sometimes glow in the dark.

He wore a dark green jacket with a white t-shirt and black pants and black and dark green sneakers.

"Good morning!" Twelve-year-old Lloyd smiled down at his older brother with a wide, bright smile and innocent eyes cutely shut. "Sleep well?"

"I did," Kai smirked with a tone of mock irritation. "Until a certain someone conspired to kill me by knocking me out of a tree." He answered with a mock glare, but his brother simply burst into laughter before taking a step back. Recognizing the game, Kai smirked and took a step forward. Lloyd took another step back, but Kai was quick to follow him until finally Lloyd turned and sprinted. The chase had begun. Letting him have his fun, Kai let his little brother win for a moment before putting on a sudden burst of speed and tackling the child to the ground.

The two rolled around for a few minutes before finally collapsing in a field of colorful flowers in a heap of laughter.

"You have been a very, very naughty boy, Lloyd Montgomery Garmadon-Smith." Kai scolded playfully, wagging his finger in front of Lloyd's face as if punishing a small child. Lloyd pouted at this, succeeding only in making himself look cuter, but Kai had helped raise him and was immune to his little brother's tricks to getting out of trouble.

"Perhaps I should ask Nya if she could cook a veggie casserole for dinner instead of pizza?" He mused thoughtfully. Lloyd's reaction changed in an instant.

"No!" The younger boy squeaked in pure panic and quickly jumped to his feet. He tugged harshly on Kai's arms and ran around him to push him to his feet when that didn't work. "Let's go, please! We can go right now! I'll even carry everything home, I promise." He started saying quickly and desperately. It took all of Kai's willpower not to fall to the ground laughing at his brother's response.

"Alright, alright green bean, we'll go." Kai chuckled at his brother's relieved smile while reaching to retrieve the bag that he had lost during their play. "But you have to promise to behave." He added and Lloyd groaned in defeat but nodded, his love of seeing the town outweighing his pride. The siblings had moved to the sleepy town of Ignacia when Lloyd was eight and Kai and Nya had just turned fifteen. They had instantly begun rebelling against the role society had dictated for him.

The trio's father Ray, a retired blacksmith, had settled his family in the small town not long after the family lost their mother to illness.

When the Smiths first arrived in Ignacia, Maya, the trio's mother and a fantastic artist who was very talented with watercolors, and their father Ray shared a love of adventure and traveled around a lot, studying the different cultures they came across. They continued their adventurous life after they were married. They had settled down for a short time when they received the joyful news that Maya was pregnant with Kai and Nya. After the twins were born, the couple decided they wanted to adopt another.

It wasn't long before they adopted a one-year-old Lloyd.

Once Lloyd was old enough to travel, the family continued their adventurous lifestyle. Unfortunately, news of her mother's illness sent the family rushing back to Ninjago City for treatment, but sadly no medicine was enough to save her. Maya's dying wish to her children and husband was for them all to be happy and to never stop following their hearts. Shortly after, the remaining family members moved to the sleepy, provincial little town of Ignacia.

The town of Ignacia was built in a large glade of a mighty forest and was truly an ancient phenomenon.

Its appearance was matched by the backdrop of giant mountains which have helped shape the city into what it is today. The materials that these mountains brought were of great importance. The village itself looked elegant. With its seagrass rooftops, redwood walls, and native bird species, the place had a pleasant atmosphere. The main attraction in the town was the fountain, which was built thirty-nine years ago. Ignacia had an unhealthy economy, which was mainly supported by fletching, wood-crafting, and armorsmithing.

But their biggest strengths were sustainable hunting and advanced medicine.

In the town of Ignacia Ray set up a small shop selling glass objects, paintings, sculptures, and anything he could craft in his forge. Even though they were quite wealthy compared to the rest of the small town. It hadn't been too difficult for the family to settle into small-town life after almost four years of traveling. Nya, like their mother, adored all forms of art around the world, but she found the Japanese style of their home inspiring. Soon her own art flooded the shop.

As long as Nya had her art, she was happy.

Carefree and fun-loving, Lloyd found a new adventure in everything he could find and delighted in the woods and the fields around his home and the town and the many buildings. If he wasn't exploring, he was plotting to steal candy from the grown-ups. Kai, unfortunately, hadn't adjusted so easily. He missed those days. Traveling and seeing many exotic places and cultures, and learning about the world ever since the morning they came to this provincial, backwater town.

It was already mid-morning and the streets were alive with bustling people, carrying out identical routines to the rest of the week.

The smooth cobblestone streets lined the city, identical massive stones corbelled together. Identical red and brown houses on batches of dirt or elevate on hills lined both sides of the streets with windows for houses on top and shops on the bottom. They were smushed close together while stone chimneys lined each roof. An enormous wall surrounded the town, separating it from the lush woods and fields, already starting to change color in the late autumn.

Kai noticed every morning just the same.

The baker carried his tray like always, the aroma of baked goods filling the crisp autumn air as people opened up shop and carried out their daily routines. People were gathering their goods and running errands, the same routine, saying good morning and asking how they were and how their families were doing. Even though the Smiths were different, they were no exception.

"Good morning, Lloyd! Good morning Kai!" The baker called, carrying a tray of bread and rolls.

"Good morning!" Lloyd chimed and rushed over with Kai behind him. The child bounced from shop to shop, delighting in his favorite past time while Kai tried in vain to strike up a conversation with the baker.

"Where you off to?" The baker asked.

"The library," Kai answered. "I just finished the most amazing book about a spellcaster and–"

"That's nice." The baker replied, having clearly stopped listening after Kai said library and called to his assistant to finish making the croissants for the day. Kai rolled his amber eyes and called for Lloyd. They continued their stroll to the only real place Kai felt at home in the dull, little town. Already, townspeople began to gossip about them as he walked by.

"That boy is strange, no question." A group of gossiping old ladies muttered amongst themselves.

"He's always distracted."

"He's never part of any crowd." An aristocratic woman pointed out. "He's always by himself reading books."

"His head's in the clouds, all the time." An old man grunted.

"No denying he's a funny boy that Kai." A group of shoppers conversed amongst themselves, while men running shopped, bowed, and tipped their hats respectively to any woman who came by. Kai growled in annoyance as he heard the gossip. A caravan drove by, ignoring the two boys after the driver said the usual good day, while three teenage girls giggled like school girls when the brunette walked by.

"That boy is so peculiar."

"I wonder if he's feeling well?"

"He's too wild." A man said to his wife. It took all of Kai's will to not growl in frustration.

"He always has a dreamy far-off look on his face."

"If his nose isn't in a book, he's scribbling away in a notebook."

"He's so strange but special; it's a pity he doesn't fit in."

"Oh yes, he's ravishing isn't he?"

"Quite, he is a funny boy though."

"A beauty, but a funny boy."

"Very different from the rest of us."

"FSM take me now if I ever become part of this life!" Kai growled to the heavens, stomping his foot in frustration. His fists clenched whenever the words odd, strange, funny, or peculiar were mumbled over and over just like yesterday and the day before that. Every day was the same thing and he had half a mind to turn around and tell everyone in town to piss off and mind their own business. But he forced his tongue in check. He cared nothing that such an outburst would only warrant more disrespect from the town and they'd treat him even worse than he already was.

It was solely out of respect for his family that he kept his cool.

Kai had adored and respected both his parents. He, Nya, and Lloyd had been devastated when age robbed them of their beloved father. Shortly after the disease killed their mother, their father's broken heart followed her in death less than a year later. The town could say whatever they wished about him, but Kai would never forgive himself if he accidentally tarnished his parents' good name because of his inability to control his temper. That and he knew the only thing losing his temper would accomplish nothing.

Except the residents marching up to his house and complaining to Nya about how her twin brother was too wild and lacked discipline.

Quite frankly, Kai loved Nya too much to let her put up with their nonsense simply because she was Kai's twin. It simply wasn't worth it. Kai had never denied he was different from everyone else, even in his own bizarre family. But after years of traveling and seeing so many different cultures and places, his own mannerisms seemed minor in comparison. However, in this backwater town so pedestrian and old-fashioned, those simple characteristics were all the town seemed to care about.

Unlike most boys, he wanted to become a writer and travel rather than marry and inherit and run a vast estate.

Kai loathed the mannerisms that many considered normal, and as headstrong and outspoken as he was, wasn't afraid to voice it and for that, he was considered odd and freaky. Not that Kai cared, he'd long since ceased caring about what others here thought of him. But despite that, he truly wished someone would look beyond his looks and accept him for who he was. An individual and not another handsome boy bound for a wealthy marriage and was simply just too headstrong for his own good.

His sharp eyes barely caught his reflection in the glass of one of the shop windows when he and Lloyd stopped to gather the groceries on Nya's list.

He turned to meet the lovely boy staring back at him. People always said the twins were lovely like their parents. Nya possessed their father's charcoal black hair and their mother's ocean blue eyes. Her brother had their mother's brown hair, even though his hair was a lighter shade, and he had his father's burning amber eyes. Lloyd may have been young but Kai could already he was going to become a handsome young man. Kai was fully aware of his appearance and what others thought of him.

But in his mind and his normal standards, he wasn't beautiful or even handsome.

To be beautiful you had to be tall and lean like his mother or Nya, and you had to have a perfect tan and look like prince charming. Compared to Kai, Nya was a gorgeous princess and Lloyd was an angel, while Kai looked more like a damsel in distress masquerading as a boy. Yet while Kai didn't see the beauty in his appearance, everyone else in the town saw nothing but his fair facade. They made no attempt to look behind it and considered him odd, peculiar, and strange.

Though he couldn't care less what others thought of him, it saddened and frustrated the fiery teen to no end, not one in town could accept him for who he was.

"Kai?" A sweet voice broke the older teen from his thoughts, and he diverted his attention from his reflection to his worried little brother, holding two large paper bags of already paid for food. "You okay?"

"I'm fine bro," He smiled, "Just lost in my thoughts." He replied following his reflection until the glass faded into the wood, they continued on their way...

#ninjago #ninjago zane #ninjago cole #ninjago kai #ninjago lloyd #ninjago nya #ninjago jay #The Flame and the Dragon #lavashipping

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certifiedskywalker · 5 years ago

Text

Saving You - Anakin Skywalker

For as long as you had known him, Anakin Skywalker had a knack for getting into trouble. Whether it was on a mission or through the words of the Jedi Council, Master Skywalker always seemed to find himself in hot water. Luckily for him, you always seemed to be ready to run to his aid at a moments notice.

“Do you ever tire of this General?” You glanced over at Commander Cody as the clone spoke. His voice was distorted slightly by the helmet, but you could still detect the hint of sincerity in his question. With a smile you turned back to the viewing port.

“War is tiring, Commander. Yet, everyday, here we stand.” “I wasn’t talking about the war, Master L/N.” “I know, Commander,” you sighed, “the answer remains the same.” The clone nods and turns to brief the platoon that was accompanying you on this mission.

You picked up on their murmurs, their voiced wonderings of the rescue. Blocking the noise out, you closed your eyes. A rush of wind rustled your cloaks, pushing your hood off of your head. The Force, like the clones, joked about. It teased you with the location of your mission; it knew you all too well. Many times before had you used the Force to locate Anakin. Sometimes it was similar to the situation surrounding you in the present moment. The reckless Jedi Knight had gotten himself captured, wounded in some fashion and needed your assistance. Like a trained hound, you came to his call; but it wasn’t obedience that pulled you towards his side.

No, it was something more. Through the years of shared training, of learning side by side, you and Anakin had bonded. Your Masters had sensed hints of it in your younger years but by the time you had both passed the Trials, there was nothing that could be done. Despite the rules the Council set, you and Anakin were one. It was far from what was considered traditional, as it was the need of the beast. The Jedi were strict in their teachings and even more strict with punishment. In order to hide your relationship, you and Anakin had to control yourselves. Much to your luck, Jedi training centered around discipline. In public, you held yourselves together. Any hint of affection that passed between you and Master Skywalker was read as platonic. There were those risky stolen glances and those rare lingering touches that snuck undetected. Those were the moments you cherished. It was those moments that gave you a taste of what it could be like. Public displays of affection, while frowned upon by the Jedi, had always been a source of curiosity for you. To have someone hold you that way for others to see; to have someone kiss you so openly. You imagined it must be exhilarating. Sadly, it was not in the cards for you or Anakin. It was through the Force where you gave him that reassuring peck; simulated a comforting hug while meters away; or held his hand despite being in your separate quarters. Part of you felt like you were merely imagining it. That those touches were manifested in your mind alone. Then, as if sensing your doubt, you would feel Anakin reach out. His strength in the Force would wrap around you, calming your worries. Now, the Force acted as your guide to him. You can almost see his form, tied up against a wall. Ahsoka’s presence is lost to you, the young girl must have escaped. At least, that is what you hoped. The outline of his being seemed to pull your towards it as you ordered the ship to land. The clones beside you jostled about while the Force kept you steady. “Master L/N, is he-”

“Follow me, Commander. Let the Force guide you.” You jumped from the troop carrier and, brandishing your lightsaber, darted inside the cave. Darkness enveloped you and the clones that trailed after you. Reaching out once more, you sensed Anakin’s crumpled form. “Be weary, whatever took him calls this cave its home.” “Roger that, General,” Cody said, gesturing to a portion of his troops. The group split then, with four troopers heading to the left and the others to the right. “Look out for Ahsoka Tano as well,” you added, “I do not sense her but I doubt she would leave her Master without helping him.” The commander nodded before following one the groups that had splintered off. With your troops sent out, you kept your pace and took the middle path alone. Using your saber as a source of light, you were able to make out two doors. “Anakin,” you whispered, reaching out with the Force once more. With its power, you felt yourself being pulled by the heart towards the left. “There you are.” Quickly, you made your way towards a large chamber. The air was musty, almost like the physical atmosphere of the planet had changed within it’s thick walls. If it wasn’t for the man chained against the wall, you would have taken notice of the other details that were etched into the stone surroundings. However, like always, Anakin blinded you. “Anakin,” you said as you rushed towards him. Falling to your knees, you cupped his face. “Anakin, please. Wake up. Please.” Your fingertips traced over his cheekbones to his chin as worry dripped from your words. Something must have struck Anakin in his unconscious state, because his eyelids fluttered as you spoke. “Y/N? Wh-what are you…” His bright blue eyes met your gaze, taking in your features as if it were the first time he was truly seeing you. His wrists jerked against the chains as he attempted to reach for you. Sensing his need, you stood up and bending the Force to aid in your effort, broke his bindings. Anakin fell to his knees before you and you knelt down before him. “I’m saving you,” you teased. Despite the humor in your words, sincerity and love oozed from your tone. The smallest of smile started in the corner of Anakin’s lips. As you felt yourself smile too, you brushed his long hair away from his face. “Let’s get you out of here, yeah?” “Y/N,” Anakin said, his voice still hoarse as he held you still. You stopped your attempt to stand and stared into his eyes. “What? Are you hurt?” “Just,” Anakin never finished his thought. Leaning forwards, he captured your lips with his. You felt the worry in your chest release as his lips melded to yours. His gloved hands cupped your jaw, pulling your face closer to his. Anakin’s nose nuzzled against your own as you moved your lips against his own. A small hum sounded from deep within his throat. “Well you must be fine. You’re still as dramatic as ever,” you said between breaths when you managed to pull yourself away from Anakin’s lips. “But we should really get out of here before-” As you spoke, you helped Anakin stand. Before you could finish your thoughts, your eyes landed on Ahsoka. Anakin’s apprentice stood with her hands curled against her hips as she stared at the two of you. You could sense her shock and worry, even without the aid of the Force. Heat rose to your cheeks as you realized that Ahsoka had witnessed the kiss. “Ahsoka,” Anakin started but she merely raised a hand. “Don’t worry,” she said, turning away from you both, “we can talk about it later. Commander Cody is waiting. We handled the creature.” You glanced at Anakin as the Togruta girl walked away, her lekku swaying with her gait. His blue eyes held a saddened glimmer in them, his regret readable as it showed across his face. “I wanted to tell her….one day…” Your brow furrowed at his hurt, wishing you could do something to ease the pain. “Anakin, she would have known eventually.” “I know,” he whispered, turning his face away from you. You straightened, lifting him up slightly as his left arm was wrapped across your shoulders. At the movement, he turned his somer gaze back to you. You leaned up, pressing your lips to the corner of his mouth. “She’s right, we can talk about this later. I want to see you truly safe first.” Anakin nodded at your words, the hints of a smile playing at his lips. He admired your wisdom and your strength, wishing he possessed both as you do. Even when he was chained, Anakin’s thoughts were always of you, never himself. He longed to see you again, he knew he had to. He had something to tell you. “I-I love you, Y/N,” he replied. A wave of heat washed over you when his words hit your ears. You turned to him in shock, eyes wide and full of something Anakin couldn’t place. He had imagined it was fear, maybe even anger. While your ideals fell beside his own, Anakin knew you held the Jedi Order in high esteem. Betraying their teachings about love...he was unsure about how you would react.

In the moment you smiled and leaned in to kiss him once more, Anakin knew everything would be alright. You saved him in more ways than one. “I love you too, Skywalker.”

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choco-ganesh · 4 years ago

Text

Linked Worlds

You were a helper. It was in your nature, it was how you were raised. You had made a name for yourself around Lestallem, whether it was helping a street chef with orders to lending a hand to a hunter, you were always there. Over the past months, you had subconsciously decided that Lestallem was your new home, and after the recent events you had heard from a resident about a near by kingdom named Imsomnia, you had also decided to scerelty guard Lestallem and it's citizens.

A few days has passed and slowly but surely, groups of refugees began to setltle in Lestallem. While helping the injured, you learned about a specific group of three refugees who made their way into the city. There was a child, about 8 years old, a girl most likely in her teens, and an older man with a bad limp. You were informed that these three seemed to be dodging the public eye and any help that was offered to them. Curiosity blossomed within you as you kept hearing about these refugees.

Having not yet seen this group after a day, you decided that you would walk the pathways, and search for them. You looked for the older man , hoping you would see him wondering around with the others. He must have been injured while escaping..' you thought yourself. A couple hours passed and you had yet to spot him. You were about to give up and go home when out of the corner of your eye, you spotted the little boy coming from a shop. In his hand was a potion, and his face had a terrified look upon it. He wore a red plaid shirt, kaki pants and a pair of sneakers. You watched him scurry through a crowd and then up a short pair of stairs that lead to a hotel called the leville. You let out a sigh of relief and in that moment you decided to gather what information anyone might know.

People greeted you as you entered the market place, children yelled hello, hunters gave you a single nod and small smiles. Your face softened and you smiled at everyone, spending about an hour catching up with your neighbors, and asking about the newcommers. From the little things you gathered, you figured out they were some form of nobility, and were some of the many others that escaped the disaster of insomnia. "I heard that girl talking to what looks like her grandfather. Saying that she called this 'Noctis' guy and that they're on their way with potions." You hummed at the hunter who told what he knew. You thought for a while. That feeling of wanting to help getting stronger. "I know that face." The hunter chuckled "What're you up to, Y/N?" You smiled and stood from the stool you sat at. "Potions won't be enough. I can tell." You bid the hunter farewell.

You decided to shop a little, gathering food and whatever your home was missing. While in a small convenience store, you spotted a black cane from the corner of your eye and stared at it. "Y/N? Sweetie?" The clerk pulled you from your small trance and you looked at her with slight wide eyes. "Someone needs help, huh?" She giggled at you while handing you your goods and change. You blushed slightly and looked away. "Jeez, I guess I am that readable." You huffed out a laugh. The clerk looked at you for a minute, studying your behavior. She turned, suddenly, and opened the small door that led to the back of the counter, walking towards the cane. She then picked it up, turned to you and held it out for you to take it. "Whoever needs this, you should give it to them." She said quickly. You stared at her and began to pull money out of you pocket. "No, no!" She touched your hand, mmaking you pause. "Its been a while since anyone cared so much about our community. We've always had to look out for each other, and since you you arrived those months ago.. life had been a little easier. Even my grandmother thinks the same." She smiled at you again. "It.. you make me want to help people, and if giving you this cane helps, then I want to do it." You didn't know what to say, or how to feel. To have such influence on someone like this.. it made you strangely proud. You smiled at the clerk and took the cane. "Thank you. I'll pay you back one day." You said your goodbyes and you made your way back into the warm sunlight.

You decided to have lunch and spend time with yourself after you had finished your shopping. You looked at the view of the forest below while gripping the cane tightly. You were waiting for the right time to make yourself known to the refugees, as you felt you didn't want to bother them too soon after their arrival. "Y/N?" You turned around to see the hunter from earlier walking up to you. "Heard something from a friend of mine. Said a bunch of men in all black are making their way here now. I'm guessing it's for the girl and the others." You nodded and looked around to see if they had already arrived. "They aren't hear yet. Maybe another half an hour. Heard the girl asking for a medic, though. I told them I know someone and I though I should come to you." The hunter crossed his arms and motioned with his head to follow you. You gather your things and began to follow him with haste in your step. "Thank you." You smiled, making your way to the leville.

Shortly after your arrival, the hunter decided to post himself outside and keep a look out. As you entered the building, The hotel clerk immediately knew your role in being hear and began to lead you to the room that the refugees were staying in. "Before we enter, the guests have a request." The clerk suddenly stopped in his tracks and turned to you, speaking in a serious tone. "They ask to not be mentioned outside of thier room. After you leave, pretend you don't know them unless they ask for you." You felt threatened in a way by this, but you could feel a sense of protectiveness coming from the clerk. Nonetheless, you understood the request and nodded, looking at the the clerk straight in the eye. He nodded after a few silent moments and proceeded to lead you to the second floor and to the room that held the refugees. The clerk knocked two times and waited. A moment had passed and you wondered if there were people even in there anymore. As you started to think nothing of this situation, the door was cracked slightly open. Your eyes fell upon the child you saw earlier, his eyes still held sadness and terror you saw from him earlier. You felt your heart tug and you wondered how he was feeling after going through so much. Your own small wave of sadness washed over you when seeing him so scared and timid. "The medic you requested is here to serve you." The clerk bowed slightly. 'Bowing... I wonder who there people really are.' You thought to yourself. The door suddenly flung open, reveling the child to you. "Will you help us?" The child began to cry. You looked at him and then at the two eldest figures in the room. They looked at you with exhausted and pained eyes. Without hesitation, you looked to the small child and grabbed his hand gently, leading him inside the room. "I hope this isn't too much trouble for you.." the girl spoke up as you reached the bed she was sitting on. "Please, it's no trouble at all." You said as you looked over both of them, making sure there were no serious injury's. "I know it may be hard, but if you can, please tell me what you remember." You spoke to them softly as you sat the child down next to the older man. You kneeled in front of the child and looked at them all. After a long silence, the girl spoke up again. "My name is Iris... This is Jared and Talcott. Were from... Insomnia." She said shakingly. You nodded and waited patiently for her to continue. You learned of a piece treaty that went South, two Kings fighting, demons running around, soldiers called MT's attacking their home. "I had learned through some travelers about this.. I'm so sorry for your losses." You whispered to them all. You looked towards Iris and gently touched her hand. "You were very brave and you got your friends out. You did a good job." You reassured her. Iris nodded and smiled slightly, wiping a stray tear that fell. "Thank you.. me and Talcott are fine, just a little sore.. Jared was hit by a stray bullet, though. We got it out and used a potion but it didn't seem to work. There's something else there.." Iris got off the bed and came to kneel next to you. She gently pulled up Jared's pant leg and reveled his wound. 'What is this..' you thought to yourself as you let out a shaky breath you didn't know you were holding. The bullet wound was slightly closed but wasn't sealed properly. There was a slight infection and not only that.. there was black ooze forming around the wound and it was slightly pulsating. Something you've seen before..

You sighed deeply and gently touched Jared's leg, but he winced and pulled away from your touch which caused you to quickly retract your hand. "This may hurt a little, Jared. But please don't worry, I'll heal this right up." You smiled up at him, trying to relax him as much as possible. "I believe you." Jared struggled to reply. You gave a single nod and focused your attention on his wound again. You take a deep breath and hold it while closing your eyes. The three watched you carefully but with puzzled faces. Within a few second your hand began to glow a faint green. You opened your eyes and started mumbling to yourself quietly. Your hand become warmer, and it began to glow brighter. "She's a wizard." You could hear talcot whisper. "I.. think you're right." Iris whispered back. You tried not to smile, for you thought the spell would be interupted. You regained focus, and gently touched Jared's wound once more. You heard him hiss in pain again, so without hesitation you grabbed one of his hands with your free one and held it tightly. "You're almost done." You mumbled, pressing your hand harder against the wound. The black ooze that littered Jared's leg stopped throbbing and began to glow the same color as your hand, and bit by bit, it began to break away into thin air. Iris gasped and held on your arm, squeezing it. Suddenly your hand stopped glowing and you pulled your hand away quickly. It was done, the wound was closed and you were strangly exhausted. Everyone was staring at Jared's leg, which was now cleared with a slightly discolored scar. "You.. how did you.." Iris couldn't find any words to say and neither could you honestly. Suddenly talcot latched onto the older man, capturing him a tight hug. You smiled and sighed. 'Another success.' you thought to yourself. A knock pulled you all from your relaxed state. "Lady Amicitia, your brother and the prince have arrived." The clerk said from the other side of the door. The party gasped and looked at each other. Their eyes were wide, like they had just gotten some news. You didn't know if it was good or bad, but by the sudden disappearance of Iris and Jared's touch and all of their smiles, it seemed it was good news. They got on their feet and rushed to the door, making their way down the hallway, leaving you alone. You could hear a mixture of voices down the hall, joy and relief present in their tones. You slowly got to your feet and looked at the open door and smiled, taking that as your cue to leave. You picked up the cane you had brought for Jared and laid it on the bed for him. As you made your way out of the room, you turned to your left, opposite of where the others fled to. You didn't know why, but you felt like you should leave the them to their reunion with their friends and make a quiet exit. You also felt as if you reached a limit of meeting people today. Everyone in Lestallem was taken care of, and these new arrivals sound like they're in good health. As you reached the bottom of the stairwell, you heard Talcott exclaim, "See?! I told you guys! She's a wizard! She disappeared into thin air!" You finally let yourself laugh. You opened the back door and we're met by the warm sunlight again. You already knew you were magical, but hearing it from an exciting personalty like Talcott made you feel good about yourself and you were hoping you would see him again. "Everything all set?" You heard the voice of the hunter behind you. You turned to see him leaning against the support colume. "Yes. The older man, Jared was the only one with a wound. The other two are fine." You waited till the hunter was at your side to start walking again. "Good." Was all he said before staring straight ahead. "You know, you don't always have to keep an eye out. We're safe here." You whispered to him. He sighed and stayed silent, eyes never meeting with yours. "I have my orders." Was all he said to you after a few minutes of silence. You shrugged and decided to just let it go and enjoy the rest of your day.

#ffxv fanfiction #ffxv #final fantasy xv #final fantasy 15

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oumaheroes · 4 years ago

Text

Reset Ch10:The Truth Comes Out

Whole story found on AO3 and FFnet (It’s a long boi, I warn you)

'Please, take a seat.'

England and France looked at each other, before back at the gun in Jean's hand. His hand was still and focused, pointed directly at England.

Jean gave a small smile. In any other situation, it would have been kind.

'Please. Don't make me ask again.'

He motioned his head towards the chairs again and England cautiously lowered himself into one, seeing France out of the corner or his eye do the same.

Jean nodded. 'Thank you. This will be so much easier if you comply.' He looked over their shoulders and nodded. Suddenly, England felt his hands being grabbed and forced behind him, rough cable ties being forced over them and tying them together. Then, pushed down further; they were attached to a pole in the back of his chair. Deciding not to put up a fight he allowed it, as he did when the same was done to each of his legs, and as the footsteps of whomever was behind him backed away again, he gently tested their give. They were tight, each slight movement dug into his skin. He could break out of them, but not without damage to his wrists or doing it inconspicuously.

He maintained eye contact with Jean and sat straight with shoulders back watching him slowly settle more comfortably on the bed. Behind him, an electrical generator, hooked up to the lamps, whirred gently.

Jean nodded to whomever was behind them and they stepped out of the room, shutting the door as they left. He then clapped his hands together and beamed at the both of them.

‘Well. I expected something but certainly not this.’

Neither France nor England replied. Jean didn’t seem too put out by this however, he nodded his head and gestured to the restraints. ‘I’m sure you can understand why this has to happen.’ The gun in his hand was fixed between the both of them. It glinted with each slight movement. England resisted the urge to glance at it.

‘Please believe me, I am not a violent man. Far from it in fact.’

France must have made some sort of face because Jean gave a small laugh. ‘Ah yes, well. I am not intentionally a violent man. When pushed, I do what is needed and things sometimes go out of my control. This will hopefully not be one such time.’

He looked at England.

‘Arthur, how nice to see you again.’

England said nothing.

Jean continued to smile.

‘I’m aware that this isn’t a situation either of you would like to be in. And I’m also aware that you’re not willing to tell me anything. So, let’s get this over with as quickly as possible.’ He leant forward in an impression of ease and geniality.

‘I know what you are.’

Neither France nor England said anything, neither moved.

Jean’s eyes flicked from one to the other, reading for movement, acknowledgement. ‘Well, rather, I know you’re not human. I have proof you’re not human. I also know that this information is not something you’re going to want to be made public.

Still, neither spoke. Jean frowned. ‘You’re both making this incredibly difficult.’

Quickly, without warning, he stood and swung the butt of the gun, cracking it against France’s temple. He gave a muffled cry of surprise and pain as white light dances across his eyes and agony erupted in his head. He slumped downwards, weight pulling at his restraints.

Jean sat back, regarding England’s unmoving expression, eyes still fixed on him. England didn’t glance at France, but out of his periphery saw him straighten back up.

‘You’re not new to these sorts of things, I take it.’ Jean gave a short bark of laughter. ‘Makes sense’.

Still silence, broken only by France’s breathing as he fought to get in control of the pain. Already, it was subsiding.

‘How long would it take you to heal, I wonder? If I did worse, I mean.’ Jean regarded France. ‘Arthur here was shot only the other day, in the chest, I believe.’

He glanced back to England, at his chest. ‘But it seems you’re already fine. That’s been recorded, you know.’

England fought to not let the cold chill of dread show as it flooded his body. Modern technology was nothing but a curse.

‘Tell you what. Let’s do an exchange.’ Jean opened his arms, gun flashing in the light as it moved. ‘I tell you something I know, and you nod yes or no. In return, you can ask a question.’

Still silence.

Jean sighed. ‘I am being incredibly generous; you’re not really in a position to argue.’ He got up and crossed the room, out of the pool of light and into a corner. He retrieved something, before making his way back.

It was England’s case.

This time, England couldn’t help the flash of emotion at seeing it. He knew he’d slipped by the way Jean’s mouth curled into something nasty.

‘Yes, this. I have this. But you knew that, didn’t you? It’s what you came back for.’ He sat back on the bed, case in his lap, and stroked the lip. ‘I know that you both can’t die. Or, rather, can��t truly die. I know you can heal extraordinarily fast, and recover from injuries no regular human can. You can live for years, centuries, without change. And this,’ he bobbed the case on his knee, ‘has something to do with it.’

He raised the gun and stroked the barrel along it. ‘I wonder what will happen, if I were to destroy it. Would you die? Or would you turn mortal? I thi-‘

‘Burn it.’

England’s voice cut across him. Jean paused. ‘I’m sorry?’

‘Burn it. Destroy it. Shoot it. I neither take kindly to blackmail, nor am intimidated by it.’

France coughed, twice. Short and sharp. ‘Now Arthur, wait a minute. Let’s not be too- ah, hasty, here. Do forgive him, Jean, I’m sure you’re more than aware of how difficult he can be.’

England fought to keep the incredulity from his face before France almost imperceptivity tapped his foot against the floor, again twice.

Ah. Okay then. He recognised the signal for what it was. Go along with it.

‘What? How can you say that?’ He shot back to France without hesitation, pulling at his restraints. ‘He’s only going to get the information from us and then kill us, keeping the case anyway.’

‘Ah, you would like to think so,’ Jean cut in swiftly, ‘I’m aware that killing you will only lead to you being born again.’ He snorted, a half laugh. ‘I’m not foolish enough to let you ‘go’ like that.’

England gave an incredulous laugh, ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about.’

‘Don’t mock me Arthur. Don’t sit there and lie.’ The last part was said in a drawled sneer. ‘I know that this man here,’ he threw a hand in the direction of France, ‘I know this man was the same Francis from the home. I know that he died, and was reborn, somehow, as a younger man. I know that you, too, are able to do this.’

Bingo thought France. Jean knows too much, but not the whole story.

‘He’s recorded you, Arthur.’ France said, softly, hoping for more. ‘This isn’t like other times.’

‘That could easily have been doctored.’ England shot back, ignoring Jean who watching their exchange silently, ‘Children do that all the time these days. That isn’t proof.’

‘Maybe not on its own.’ Jean let the comment hang for a second, letting it settle. ‘But I have photos, a birth certificate; other things. More importantly, however,’ He paused, glancing at them both, ‘I have medical records.’

A silence, thick and strained, filled the room.

Jean grinned, sensing his advantage. ‘Caught on, have you? A small benefit to my old employment.’

England’s mind began racing, thinking over his own medical history, stored under lock and key in the British government buildings. Does Nation DNA change when they reset? He had no idea, never thought about it; when he’d last been human these sorts of things weren’t even dreamt of. Had anyone else considered this? If this was as bad it had the potential to be, then this could be a worldwide security breach. Either that, or he was more of a fool than he’d thought.

France’s thoughts were running down a similar vein and was desperately trying to recall instances where Francis could have left records, growing increasingly more horrified. Dentist records, blood tests, chests scans, x-rays; all would have a file somewhere, especially stored at the home.

This wasn’t something they could easily explain away and he cursed himself for his stupidity, for listening to England, for running into this so soon. He was without government support. Sure, England’s government could step in, refute it, cover it all up. Even if it hit the internet, the fact was that none of England’s records were lost or held by someone without clearance.

France, meanwhile, had no such support. No government. This could hit the internet and would prompt an investigation from the president’s people as well as the general population, who would think and believed what they will. The process of introducing himself and proving the accusations were worth covering up would take weeks. Other nations would need to be pulled in for verification and that was even if France was even able to get out of here. Which, being tied to a chair, was currently highly unlikely.

He couldn’t believe it. A human had him. Had them both.

‘I have the feeling that you’re both willing to be a bit more cooperative.’ Jean crossed one leg over the other drummed his gun free hand on the case lid. A familiar madness gleamed behind his eyes and France suddenly understood.

.............................................................................................

After the call from Wales, Scotland had excused himself and Northern Ireland from the UN sessions citing some business issues and had flown them to France on the first flight he could get. North had found, through England’s bank records, that a credit card was last used in Luçon earlier that morning. With today’s technology of contactless payments, there was no way to say whether England himself had made the purchase, but it was a lead.

This sense of accomplishment, however, was short lived, broken by what North had found online whilst waiting to board their plane. There, in wonderfully readable black and white in a prominent French newspaper, was a photo of his brother under the headline ‘Care Home Kidnap’.

What a cunt.

England was a fucking idiot. A fucking inconsiderate prick who had stormed back off into a shit storm of his own making, leaving the rest of them to pick up the bloodied pieces and clean up the damage. He was such a selfish fucking arsehole; Scotland immediately lost of any sense of previous concern he had briefly had for his brother’s wellbeing as it was swiftly buried underneath cold fury and hurried planning of how he, Scotland, was going to have to dig England out of the fucking shit pit and prevent this from becoming an international scandal.

Aside from that clusterfuck, he was also furious at Wales, which was an odd enough occurrence that he didn’t really know how to process it. Normally Wales was the one cross with someone else, if anyone was angry at all. Wales himself was sensible, logical, quiet, and caring- all traits Scotland silently admired. Reliable to a fault, Wales was not, usually, the fuck up of the family; England handled that title quite well without any help.

When North found that article, however, and had pushed the phone under his nose in panic, Scotland’s controlled hold on his concern and serenity had imploded. Causing such a public scene and scandal as a nation was bad enough, but then to go back to the scene of the incident, when the public had access to all the wonderfully accurate modern technology that they had? And Wales had known and let him.

After an apoplectically furious phone call to Wales in an airport terminal, who had recently found similar information and was already in contact with the Prime Minister, Scotland had remained stony faced and white knuckled as they flew back to Europe, North sat as far away as he could get to avoid becoming the outlet for Scotland’s anger.

Now in France, he was calm enough again to focus.

Wales had caught him up via email that during their flight that the PM was already in contact with the French government to let them know that a British ‘agent’ had become embroiled in French news. It wasn’t the UK’s business or right to reveal France for who he was, so instead they were going to play the politics card. Ban more printing of stories, reverse any warrants out for England’s arrest, prevent news channels from mentioning it and readying a story from Britain’s perspective, should anything break out back home.

That was the messy, admin part under control. Likely due to his mortifying part in this nonsense, Wales was working incredibly efficiently from the sound of things and Scotland trusted that his brother would be doing all he could to rectify the problem.

Panic and rage under control, Scotland could focus on the task at hand.

He’d hired a car upon arrival and bundled North, who had refused to fly back home and insisted on coming with him, inside to drive to Luçon. North was going to continue his online searching and fend off questions from other Nations whilst Scotland drove, which, grudgingly, he had to admit to himself was helpful. Being so accustomed to the internet did have its advantages, although he wasn’t ever going to tell North that.

If all went well, in around 4 to 5 hours they’d find England safe and sound and Scotland could happily beat the spit out of him.

.............................................................................................

Jean rebalanced England’s old case on his lap, eyes cold and hard despite his smile. There was a void behind his eyes, an emptiness. That note of something dangerous and sharp, something lacking a soul. The sense of a man who had nothing to lose in battle and was winning.

‘If you know as much as you do,’ Began France slowly, working through what he knew in his head, turning over each piece of information carefully, ‘then why on earth do you need us? What’s the point of all of this? Go to the authorities and be done with it, tell the public, sell what you know; what more can we tell you?’

‘I need to know why, know how. I am no fool, I know how crazy this is, how insane this will seem to people. I need proof, total, irrefutable proof. I need to know how this works, why it works, and all the ins and outs of things.’

‘And that’s because of Julien Durand, isn’t it? Your grandfather.’

Instantly, Jean’s lips pulled back, contorting his face. England looked shocked as the sight of it, so different from the co-worker he was used to, despite recent events. France pressed on, cultural knowledge tumbling through his mind, ‘His daughter was your mother. He killed me and they thought him mad. He lost all credibility and was deemed mentally unwell, not worth even thinking about.’

‘He was trying to do what was right!’ Jean stood, case falling to the ground with a muffled thump. England stared at it. ‘He believed-no, knew that he’d found something! He didn’t know enough, but he did what was right!’

France gave a dry laugh. ‘Yes, killing me was right?’ He looked Jean in the eye, ‘He was a fool. A fool who was getting involved in far more than he could ever have known and it backfired. Is that what this is for? To avenge him?’

‘You don’t know what you’re talking about.’ Jean was furious now, with the same roiling fury that sparked remembrance in France in the first place, a memory of Julien Durand’s similar switch in mood; one storm to another.

‘My family was ruined. His wife left him and my mother and uncle were raised to think of him as just that, as crazy, as something to be ashamed of, someone who couldn’t even hold down a job for long enough to save any money. No credit, no credence, no future.’ Jean breathed heavily, gulping breaths, ‘He’d tell us stories of that case, of what he found, of what he tried to do but our whole family were disgusted by him, thought so little of him. Blamed him.’

As the volume of the conversation increased England worked on his restraints, all the while listening for the door. He was surprised that whoever was working with Jean hadn’t come in to check on them when the shouting begun, although perhaps this was usual behaviour. A concerning thought in itself. Had he attempted this before?

As Jean begun to speak again, England felt the one binding his wrists dig further into the skin. He needed to work on weakening the cable tie enough that one sharp snap of movement would do something.

‘Myself, Amélie and Charles all knew about that fucking thing growing up, all heard his goddamn stories about it, about you’. This last word was dripping in venom and directed solely at France. ‘Knew them as grandfather’s silly stories but also knew how much he desperately believed them, was desperate to be taken seriously. It bled through our childhoods, infected everything and everyone like a poison.’

Jean’s fists were clenched and shaking.

‘But I had a decent life, a decent job. I was happy with my lot. And then you moved into the home.’ A hateful look at France. ‘With that same name and an odd piece of fucking personal possession that I recognised immediately.’

Suddenly, he laughed, head tipped back. ‘I couldn’t believe it. Surely not, I thought, surely not. That would be too farfetched, too impossible. All that time growing up, hearing about this man called Francis Bonnefoy and a case? Someone my grandfather considered worth killing, worth throwing away his life and the lives of his family for? A potentially immortal man? But there you were.’

Jean shook his head, almost as if he were in disbelief still. ‘That’s fine, I thought, perfect. I would try to open it, find out what was in it. Try to make sense of what drove Grandfather to do something so desperate for it. But it was locked, of course. And you,‘ he looked France hard in the eyes, ‘didn’t know anything about it, or you weren’t going to tell me.’

He gave another short laugh, ‘Again, that was fine. All I had to do was wait for you to die, and then I could grab it up and take it away. But then,’ he swivelled round to England, who just in time stopped his efforts on his restraints, ‘You showed up. Out of nowhere, and with that name. That same name. Then I knew, I knew it wasn’t a coincidence, knew it wasn’t something made up; a story. Whatever it was, it was real. It was real, and there you both were.’ There was a hungry quality to him, the way he moved and spoke, that sickened France to look at.

Jean stepped closer to England, back fully to France now, who had begun to work on his own restraints, pulling his legs away from the chair and rubbing the cord of the cable tie up and down the pole of the chair back.

‘I realised then that it must not be the case that was important, it was you. Both of you. The case had something to do with it, oh yes, but that wasn’t the real deal here. Grandfather was so close but he was looking in the wrong direction, focusing on the wrong thing.’

Jean whirled round and grabbed the case again from the floor, brandishing it before England. ‘That’s what I still don’t know. What I need to know. Which is why I was serious about talking to the both of you.’

Suddenly, he was calm again. He shook himself, a small movement on the head and shoulders and a deep breath. ‘Tell me what you are. Tell me how you work. I go to the government, and you help me clear my grandfather’s and my family’s name. That’s all.’

That was never all. England knew that, knew mortals and knew this type of one too. You gave an inch and eventually the mile started to look obtainable too. Expected, even. There was no bargaining, no reasoning. His stance on this was always the same, one did not negotiate with criminals. No matter what they offered, no matter how promising it looked; the main thing you were negotiating was your respect, your pride and as soon as you struck a deal, you’d lost. You were malleable.

And this mortal in front of him, knowing what he knew, was dangerous enough without giving him more. There could be no second day of this, there could be no deals struck or agreements promised. No, there would be nothing. All they needed was a chance.

England had the beginnings of an idea and hoped that France would catch on.

England appraised him, eyes flicking to the case and back to his eyes and his too calm expression. ‘Ask.’

Jean raised an eyebrow. ‘Ask? Is that all? I must admit I’m surprise at your quick turn around.’

England shrugged nonchalantly as best as he could whilst tied to a chair. ‘As you’ve said, there’s not much we can do, is there? If that’s the inevitable end I’d rather not make things more difficult for myself in getting there.’

Jean hesitated, suspicious.

‘Obviously you’re going to have to trust what answers I give,’ England offered, ‘But like you said. You have proof, and proof that modern science cannot deny. The main reason you want us is to fill in the blanks and go with you when you present it. I’m willing to do that if, as you say, that will be all.’

‘So, it seems we’re both in the same position,’ England continued drily, watching Jean process this information, ‘We have to trust your word, as you’ll have to trust ours.’

‘What’s in here?’ Jean asked quickly, mind seemingly made up for now.

‘Arthur-‘ France, a note of caution in his voice.

‘Items precious to the nation of England.’ Ignoring him, England bumped his bound hands against the pole they were tied to, three quick jolts. He hoped France would read it correctly. Get out.

‘Such as?’

‘My turn.’ England quickly considered the things he needed to know, prioritising them and filtering away ones that he could live without. ‘Who else knows what you do?’

‘Amélie and Charles. Although, I know you’re both aware of what happened to them now.’

‘Not the men outside?’

A small shrug, uncaring. ‘They’re hired. They didn’t ask questions and telling them wouldn’t have them respecting me enough to do what I wanted without question. They’re well paid.’

How on earth do you have the money to hire them? England thought, but that was a question he could ask France later.

‘Why are the cases important to what you are?’ Jean asked next.

England considered his words. ‘They help bring us back to ourselves, once we’re reborn. We have a lot to remember; looking through old objects we’ve owned or are important to our lives in some way help us to remember faster. Come back to ourselves quicker.’

Jean seemed pleased with this, making a noise of interest. ‘So, I was right; the case has nothing to do with your immortality.’

England shook his head. ‘No, nothing.’

‘When my grandfather killed Francis back then, he had caught you searching through French archives, had seen you exchange a case.’

‘I was looking for things to jog Francis’ memory, and he had done the same for me. Things lose their impact if they are used too often.’

Jean regarded the case again in his hands, its old cracked leather. ‘Then, the one Francis had in the home was for when he died. You were there to take him away, hide him from medical authorities and show it to him.’

‘Correct.’

‘Sadly, I made that more difficult?’ Jean chuckled. It was strange, what they were discussing. Something so private, so unhuman, and Jean was suddenly acting like how both England and France remembered him in the home. Warm and unassuming and made all the strange that they were sitting in Francis’ old bedroom. They could have been discussing anything.

‘It sped up the process.’ England acknowledged.

Cable tie dug into France’s skin.

‘Why work together with Amélie and Charles just to kill them? They’re your cousins, I assume.’

Jean nodded. ‘They were, yes. I needed them as scapegoats, I suppose you could say. I offered Charles a job in the gardens and once a job opened up for staff inside, I mentioned it to him. I knew Amélie was unemployed and knew Charles would tell his sister.’

‘So, you couldn’t even be blamed for bringing them there.’

Jean smiled, seemingly impressed. ‘Exactly. They’d grown up with the same stories as myself, I knew they’d put two and two together in the same way. Once you arrived,’ a hand casually flicked towards England, ‘and I understood more of what I had found myself involved in, I knew I needed to step back if I was ever going to be able to get a chance of getting close. I knew you’d be on guard for anything or anyone getting involved and so I knew I needed a cover, a distraction.’

‘I’d become interested in them, which would take my attention away from anything you were doing.’

‘Exactly,’ Jean nodded, happily, ‘And it worked. As soon as Amélie arrived and found the case in Francis’ room, she and Charles started thinking of ways to look inside it as much as I did. Became suspicious too. Even Francis knew something was going on, which lead to him becoming more paranoid and thus more medicated. All I needed to do was wait and watch.’

A quick glance towards France, who was looking slightly sick.

‘You were staying with Amélie?’

‘Yes. We weren’t close, growing up.’ Jean looked somewhat sad to admit this, ‘Our family truly never recovered from what our grandfather did. We knew each other, but not enough for her or her brother to involve me in whatever they were planning. Which is how I wanted it. I just needed to know that they were doing something. So, when things started getting more intense, I made up an excuse to stay with her. See if I could find out what they were up to and take advantage of it.’

England clamped his mouth shut, next question hot on his tongue. Don’t push him too far, not yet.

Jean’s next question came quick. ‘Can I do this?’ he gestured to both nations, ‘What you do? Come back again?’

France and England looked at each other, wary. England, wanting to continue to divert attention away from France, sighed, making himself look torn and paused.

‘Well?’ Jean sounded almost, desperate, England would say. Pleading, hungry. ‘Yes,’ he admitted, eventually, ‘It is difficult-painful. Extremely painful but yes, it is possible. You may die in the process, but it is possible.’

‘Well, that’d be convenient, wouldn’t it? Don’t worry, I’m not too interested in trying, especially not before talking to the authorities.’

The unspoken ‘yet’ fell heavy between them.

Greed would get to him before too long, either that or the fear of death; it always did. It was one of the main reasons why very few humans knew of the nations.

England next asked a question that had been bothering him for a while. ‘Did you have something to do with the staff becoming sick?’

‘I did,’ Jean still looked completely calm, no guilt for anyone else other than himself, it seemed. ‘I wanted to give Charles and Amélie an opportunity, make it easier for them to find out or do something. With so many people about, you especially, I knew that’d be hard. And it worked, when I stayed at Amélie’s I found out that they were planning on doing something on that night. I just had to be there, waiting.’

‘How…?’

‘The tea. Coffee. Whatever. A little bit of laxatives mixed with some strong over the counter medicines that would put someone down for a few days at least.’

England thought back through his memories to the many times Jean had offered to make drinks for staff members, himself included. The cups of coffee he kept trying to make him drink. England had thought him kind, friendly. A concerned co-worker. He mentally kicked himself, he had believed his ability to read people was better than this.

‘You,’ Jean continued, a pointed look at England, ‘were difficult. I didn’t know about your healing abilities then but had a suspicion that whatever you were was preventing you from getting affected. But then, you become unwell anyway.’

Kent. A rotten coincidence; terrible, perfect timing.

‘I checked Amélie’s phone; I knew what they were planning. I took advantage of it and went there that night myself. Unfortunately, you arrived back in time to prevent Charles from fully killing Francis.’

Jean sighed. ‘I was planning on cleaning up the pieces, offering my help to them and escaping with the body and the case. I’d hired a van and everything, should it be needed. Instead,’ he glared at Arthur, ‘You arrived back. Killed Charles instead. With the lack of staff and the panic, at least me and Amélie were able to smuggle his body out and to the family home in Luçon.’

‘As a message for us?’

‘Not entirely. It’s out of the way and far away from the home enough to prevent police from searching there until they discovered that the gardener was missing and deemed it worth their time to investigate. But,’ he inclined his head, ‘you’re right, also for you. If you went there following the same trail.’

‘Why kill her? Why not use her to help you, after all wasn’t it to help restore your family?’

‘First,’ Jean stopped him, holding up a hand. ‘Why were you ill? If you can heal so well and not die, shouldn’t you be immune to things like that?’

England thought quickly. ‘We are still…human. We still age, and die. We just return. We can heal well, yes, but we still get hurt. In the same vein, we can still become ill, but we recover faster.’

Jean accepted his explanation with a small incline of his head and a noise of consideration. ‘But it wasn’t the drugs?’

‘It may have been. They may have affected me, disrupted my body in some way.’

Jean seemed satisfied with this. ‘For your question, I needed someone to take the fall for what happened. Amélie had all the text messages on her phone, both of their fingerprints were on the case, hers on Charles’ body. Our last names are different, and on the surface I don’t appear involved at all. But she might speak, so I needed her to die. I hired men and continued alone. We managed to track your movements t-‘

Suddenly there was a loud snap and a burst of movement from France. Despite his legs still bound to the chair, his arms were free and he propelled himself towards Jean, hands outstretched.

Jean gave a yelp of surprise, dropping England’s case back to the floor. France managed to reach his shirt and he grabbed hold, momentum propelling him downwards and dragging Jean with him. There was a fierce struggle, during which England gave a huge tug and broke the tie around his own hands, ignoring the sharp burning sensation in his wrists. He had reached down to tug his legs free when there was an almighty crack of a gun as the doors behind them burst open. Hands seized his shoulders, pulling him back flush against the chair.

‘Stop!’ Jean roared, ‘Stop! Don’t shoot him!’

England looked down to see Jean under France’s prone body by the foot of the bed, a gunshot wound blooming red from between the nation’s shoulders.

The room was silent again, punctured only by Jean’s heavy breathing as he struggled underneath France’s now dead weight. His face was stricken, thunderous. The hands on England’s shoulders tightened, but he heard a gun being holstered behind him.

Jean pushed France off with a grunt and stood, checking himself for injuries. Then, in a sudden burst of fury, he kicked France’s side.

‘FUCK!’ he screamed, ‘FUCK, FUCK, FUCK!’ Each shout was accentuated with a kick, causing France’s body to jolt. With one last kick, Jean looked up back to England, furious.

‘You planned this! You planned this all along, you areshole. We had a deal; we were going to do this like men!’

England couldn’t help himself, he grinned. ‘I’m afraid, Jean, that we are not men.’ He looked down at France. ‘You may as well chuck him outside. He’ll decompose soon and will be born again where his case is. Which, I’m sure you’ve guessed, is hidden.’

Jean crossed the room in quick strides and punched England hard on the cheek. His head whipped back, stars popping in front of him. Leaning forward, he spat blood and a tooth at the ground. Jean punched him again, once more across the face and then hard in the stomach. England gasped as the air was knocked out of him, wheezing for oxygen.

‘You bastard.’

England looked up, made himself ignore his gasping need for oxygen to look this human, this pitiful man in the eye. He grinned, ‘Nice to finally make your acquaintance.’

.............................................................................................

AN:

Well.

If the You-Know-What that’s causing worldwide havoc and mayhem is good for anything, it’s good for getting me to write again. Only took three national lockdowns to prod me into activity…

If anyone is still about to read this, thank you. Thank you to new readers, who are still out there and have stumbled across this dinosaur and a bigger thank you to anyone who came back for this, who got a notification in their inbox and clicked it. I hope it made you happy to see.

There have been many points where I wanted to abandon this thing, leave it to rot in the dust. But I’ve always said I will finish this story and finish it I will. Every year that passes I grow more determined and I improve enough at writing that I want to keep going, to keep pushing myself to get it done.

No matter what, this story will get an end and BOY are we close now.

As always, please do let me know that you’re there by leaving a comment letting me know what you thought. I hope the build-up and suspense was worth it!

Much love and thanks, as always <3

Heroes

#fruk #aph #aph france #aph england #aph wales #aph scotland #aph northern ireland #reset #allheroeswearhats #ahwh #fic #hetalia #dear god what am i doing #why am i still doing this #Feels like shouting into a long dead void #I WILL FINISH THIS FIC EVEN IF IT KILLS ME #au #my writing

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amazingphanisnotonfire-imagines · 5 years ago

Note

I would like Sweet Pea and the movie Grease... because I have always thought ever since the Serpents came to Riverdale, if any musical makes sense, it's Grease.

I’ve been thinking the exact same thing. Like, literally Grease makes the most sense to have as a musical episode, plus its definitely the most popular. Anyway, I hope you like this!

Quote: ‘Men are rats, listen to me, they're fleas on rats, worse than that, they're amoebas on fleas on rats. I mean, they're too low for even the dogs to bite. The only man a girl can depend on is her daddy.’

“Sweet Pea!” You shout over the pouring rain. Its been raining since you left Pop’s and the long walk to Sweet Pea’s trailer has left you soaked, your hair sticking to your face and your clothes clinging to your skin. The only good thing about the sudden down pour is that fact that its covering the tears flowing down your cheeks. “Sweet Pea!” You knock loudly and you can just make out the sound of him tripping over something before the door swings open.

“Sorry.” He apologizes. “I couldn’t hear you over the rain.”

“Its fine.” You shrug. “Can I come in?”

“Yeah, yeah. Of course.” He moves out the way and you smile gratefully as you brush past him. He closes the door quickly before following you into the living room, picking up a few random things that he’s thrown on the floor. If he knew he was coming he would have tidied up a bit, especially the boxers on the floor. You’re the only person that he actually cleans his place for. “Sooooo.” He stands awkwardly as he watches you flop onto the sofa, a deep frown set on your face. “Do you want a towel?”

“Please.” You reply and he nods, disappearing into the bathroom before returning a few seconds later with a white towel gripped in his hands. He sits beside you and hands you the towel which you take gratefully before drying yourself off. A few minutes go by in a comfortable silence and Sweet Pea’s distracted by whatever is on the TV while you dry your hair off.

“I thought you were supposed to be hanging out with Danny tonight.” He says casually and you freeze, dropping the towel on to your knees. You’d only just managed to stop crying, to get your emotions in check. But as soon as he mentions his name you break again. Tears streaming down your face as your whole body shakes with sobs. Sweet Pea instantly wraps his arms around you.

He doesn’t know whats going on, but he does know its his job to cheer you up. It’ll always be his job. He squeezes you tightly against his chest and you try to protest, not wanting to get his shirt soggy but he just rolls his eyes and tells you to stop being so stupid. If it was anybody else, you’d be annoyed that they’d said that, but you know when Sweet Pea says it, he means it in the nicest possible way and that brings you a little comfort, at least he’s not letting you down. “What happened?” He asks confused, one hand stroking your hair while the other one keeps you close to him.

“He broke up with me.” You mumble against his chest and he pulls away, staring at you with an un-readable expression. How could anyone break up with you? How could they be so stupid? You’re literally his favourite person and he doesn’t understand why anybody would not want you in their life.

“What?” He asks, his jaw clenched and eyes narrow as he tries to understand.

“He broke up with me.” You repeat. “He invited me to Pop’s and then broke up with me. Apparently he’s found someone that understands him more. Whatever the hell that means.”

“I’m gonna kill him.” His fists clench as he tries to stand up but you quickly grab his arm and he instantly relaxes a little.

“I just wanna hang out with you tonight.” You sigh and lean your head against his shoulder.

“Fine.” He mumbles. “I won’t kill him...tonight.” You giggle softly at him and he smiles to himself, happy that he’s cheered you up, even if its just a little bit. “He’s an idiot.” He says out loud, his mouth moving before he could stop himself.

“Yeah. I know.” You agree and the two of you smile at each other. However your smile quickly disappears making him frown.

“Okay. Men are rats.” He starts and you roll your eyes at him. “Listen to me, they’re fleas on rats, worse than that, they’re amoebas on fleas on rats. I mean, they’re too low for even the dogs to bite. The only man a girl can depend on is her daddy.”

“...okay.” You blink. “There’s a lot to unpack there. Number 1. Daddy?” You raise an eyebrow at him and he shrugs in reply. “Number 2. What the hell is an amoeba?”

“Dunno. Something smaller than a flea I suppose.”

“Hmm. You do know that you’re also a man right? Meaning you’ve just insulted yourself.”

“Nah.” He shakes his head. “I’m much better than that. Some people have likened me to a God.”

“Pffft.” You snort. “If you’re a God, you’re Koalemos.”

“Who’s he? The God of incredibly good looking men. The God of mind blowing orgasms?”

“Ha!” You laugh loudly. “You really are the God of idiocy.”

“Hey!”

“But I still love you though.” You add and smile softly at him, only now realizing how close you are to each other. Your faces inches apart making your lips part and him blush softly. The two of you lean in softly, the rain pattering on the roof adding to the whole atmosphere and you close your eyes, waiting with baited breath until...suddenly he pulls away from you making your eyes snap open.

“Well thats good isn’t it.” He stands up quickly and looks around the small room.

“Pea?” You say quietly and you swear you can hear your heart breaking for a second time that day.

“I’m sorry.” He shakes his head. “I shouldn’t have done that. Lets watch your favourite film and forget all about Danny and his stupid face. Yeah?”

You take a deep breath and close your eyes for a second before looking back at him. “Yeah. Sure.” You force a smile.

movie quote prompts

sweet pea masterlist

#sweet pea #sweet pea imagine #sweet pea x reader #sweet pea x you #sweet pea x y/n #riverdale #riverdale imagine #movie quote prompts #grease

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thenightau · 4 years ago

Text

The legend of the golden tree

This was written by Ollie, who is having some formatting issues so I’m posting it :D.

Once upon a time, long before the worlds as we know where created, The three gods had a world they had all to themselves, far away from their mother the void. It was a plain world, one with a few trees and rivers, as that was all Builder knew how to create at the time. But, his pride and joy? Was the beautiful golden leafed tree in the center of the world.

The tree bore whatever fruit the gods wished, strong and sturdy enough that they put a single rope swing on one of the branches. There the gods would go whenever they wished to be free from their mothers harsh words, where they openly practiced their abilities and discussed issues they could not discuss at home.

Protector practiced her swordsmanship, practiced moves and studied the art she had created; war. She kept on the lookout for their mother, constantly tense and ready to fight. Builder sat on the swing and stared at the world he created, the setting sun and the beauty he had conjured. He was serine as always, waves of peace rolling off him as he drew up new ideas for lands. Night leaned against the golden tree, always reading or writing. They occasionally ate the fruit that came from the golden tree, the juice from the fruit often getting the pages of their writings sticky and hardly readable to anyone but them. It was there paradise. Complete solitude, where they could be themselves. There was no outer pressures to be proper young adults. Here they could climb trees, splash in rivers, and be free.

One day, the golden tree bore a fruit none of the other gods had seen before. It was yellow in color, yet seemed to glow blue and purple. The three gathered around it, and started to give ideas as to what it was.

“It looks like an apple.” Builder said, swinging idly on his swing.

“Dumbass,” Night hissed, “of course its a apple. What else would it be? Beef?” They asked sarcastically, Builder frowned.

“Okay, so its obviously a type of apple. But why is it glowing?” Protector asked, moving her hair from her face. Her nose scrunched up in thought.

“Its magic?” Builder offered, and yet again got another cynical glance from Night, “I mean! Maybe if someone eats it they gain something really special!”

“Or they die.” Night replied, their arms crossing under their cloak.

“Hey! I made the tree! Why would it try and kill us?” Builder shot back, simply reaching up and picking the apple off the tree gently, telling the golden tree his thanks as he looked at it closer. Night scoffed, leaning their back against the tree.

“If your so confident. Eat it then. If you die than we know not to eat it.”

“Hey!” Builder squeaked, pouting at his sibling for the apathetic tone. Protector rolled her eyes.

“Can you two not bicker for like five seconds?”

“No. It’s my job to make him upset.” Night smirked from under their mask. “But, if your so insistent it won’t hurt us. Go ahead, take a bite.”

“Fine! I will!” Builder said, before quickly taking a large bite out of the golden apple.

It was sweet, but not overwhelmingly so. It tasted like… well.. An apple. There really wasn’t much difference to it. But Builder looked at his two siblings, who were both wide eyed and taking a slight step back.

“What?” He had asked them, before Night grabbed the apple of of his hands.

“Holy shit.” Night muttered, looking from the apple to Builder.

“Alexios. Theres… particles. Coming from your skin. Red particles.” Protector said, unsheathing her sword so Builder could look at himself. Builder did just that, gasping softly.

“Woah…” He muttered, “So it gives you potion effects?” He asked, before checking his own inventory where it said the effects, “Fire resistance, Absorption, Regeneration, and Resistance.” He listed off, before closing his inventory.

“It’s like some sort of god apple.” Night muttered, and Builder laughed.

“Well it is! But if that’s what you want it to be called than so be it! A god apple!” Builder smiled, as more started to grow from the tree. Builder’s smile only widened. “Oh look! Theres more!” He chirped, starting to climb the tree. “We should give these to the players! It’ll help them with the mobs and fighting!” Builder suggested, and Protector nodded.

“Mother won’t be too pleased though.” She said, and Night shrugged.

“Since when did they care about what we did to the players?” They asked. Protector simply shrugged them off, worried it wasn’t a good idea. Builder didn’t listen to them though, picking the fruits while thanking his beautiful tree for the godly fruit. He noticed a few of the golden apples weren’t glowing, but just assumed they were very similar, and gently placed them onto the ground as he picked them.

“Mother doesn’t seem to like the players all that much. So, if we do this in secret she’ll never know!” Builder smiled, and Night laughed.

“Thats what i’m talking about. Come on! Lets go distribute these.” Night grabbed a handful of apples, as did Builder. But Protector just sighed, shaking her head.

“You two can go be rebellious somewhere else. I’m staying here. I don’t need another reason for mother to hate me.”

“Boring!” Builder giggled, and he looked at Night. “Come! I know a way to get to the players!”

And so the two gods went. They hid the apples in dungeons, in strongholds, anywhere they could. The players couldn’t have been more thankful, as the apples made them feel like gods themselves. The name ‘God apple’ stuck, and although in our books they are called Enchanted Golden Apples, they are still commonly known as God apples, in honor of the ones who gave them to us.

Rumor has it, even after millennium, the golden tree still stands in that long forgotten world, waiting to give humanity its next greatest gift. But, the location and name of that world is only known to three humans.

A avian with wings of ruby and amethyst.

And two vex born children, who’s bond is seemingly unbreakable to those closest to them.

And so, the world remains a mystery, one that only the gods and their children know of.

Once again, this was written by @dark-angel1946 <3 love you ollie

#the night au #protector #night #builder #myths #story

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klarriel · 4 years ago

Text

Nimrod

Dean Winchester spends his life working two jobs to make ends meet. In the small town of Smith Center, he keeps to himself, his father's words in his head a never-ending reminder of the past he'd rather forget.

When Castiel Novak moves into Apartment 7, guitar case in tow, Dean realises that maybe life isn’t just about surviving, and sometimes all it takes is knocking a few walls down to hear the music.

A story about love, set to the soundtrack of its inhabitants.

(multi-chapter, ao3 link under cut)

Dean knows it’s not going to be a great day the moment he wakes up 30 minutes late, swinging his legs over the edge of his bed and almost collapsing to the floor, his breaking bedframe throwing him off balance.

He doesn’t even have time to stop to complain when his key jams in the door again, but that sonofabitch Zachariah will definitely be getting a piece of his mind - that’s if he’s ever around, at least trying to pretend that he’s performing the basic duties of a landlord.

He’s on the opening shift at the shop, as he is most days. As he unlocks the doors and switches on the Harvelle’s General Store sign, illuminating the still lightening sky, he wonders if the change in the wind he feels this morning is some sort of misplaced optimism, or maybe he’s just looking forward to his weekend off. As he’s getting supplies to restock the candy shelves and a box of canned beans falls, almost hitting him on the head, and spilling its contents all over the stockroom floor, he realises it’s probably the latter.

The day is filled with the middle-aged residents of Smith Center. The men are usually looking for spare parts for their tools or household machinery. Some of the women that come in wink at him suggestively as he cashes up their items, but today he’s in a pretty crappy mood, and so most of the time he doesn’t have the patience or the willpower to play along, shooting them quick, fake smiles as he hands them their bags. When the school day ends a flurry of teenagers pours in, counting out enough coins to buy packets of Sour Patch Kids and gummy worms. One boy complains moodily that the slushy machine still isn’t working - ‘-and it’s been four weeks now! - but Dean just shrugs with an apathetic ‘ Sorry kid ’ , asking if there’s anything else he can help him with or if he’s done taking up space in his shop.

Kevin calls in sick for his shift, and so Dean begrudgingly agrees to cover until Jo comes in at 5.

When she arrives, she can barely get out a ‘Hey Dea-’ before Dean is running out, grabbing his coat and throwing up a hand in a wave. She shakes her head softly, brow furrowing and drawing her lips into a hard line as she watches Dean slide into the driver’s seat of his Impala.

‘Excuse me dear, I was wondering when you’ll next be stocking up on your canned beans?’

- - -

As he pulls up, Dean’s too engrossed in figuring out the meaning behind the flashing light on the Impala’s dashboard to notice the U-Haul parked outside his apartment block. As he gets out the car, staring down at his phone to type in the number for Billie’s Pizza Delivery, he also doesn’t notice the guitar case falling towards him

‘Oh, look out!’

Dean barely has time to look up, before the hard case smacks him on the head. He falls back a few steps, one hand catching the guitar before it falls to the ground, the other holding his head.

“Ah-!”’

Dean looks up to see a girl who can’t be much younger than Sam was the last time he saw him. A strand of her red hair that has escaped her messy bun falls to drape around her face as she bends towards him, worriedly checking over his head as she reaches to grab the case from him.

“I am so, so sorry,” she rushes out, drawing the case towards her body as they both stand, “I pulled it out and it just flew completely out of my hands. I guess I don’t know my own strength…’

She laughs nervously, and Dean gives her a short smile, rubbing the sore spot on his forehead.

“Hey, don’t worry about it” he sighs, and all he wants right now is his couch, Dr Sexy reruns on TV, a triple meat feast deep dish and a four-pack of beer, “happens to the best of us...”

Before he has a chance to escape the conversation, she smiles excitedly and nods towards his apartment building

“You don’t happen to live here do you?” She asks, biting her lip worriedly, the slight blush across her cheeks a hint of the embarrassment she was still feeling.

“Who’s askin’, you the FBI or somethin’ ?” he replies, raising his eyebrows.

She laughs, her nose crinkling.

“Nah, just want to get to know the neighbours. Me and my brother just moved into Apartment 7 today!” She says, jostling the guitar into one hand and throwing the other out in front of her and smiling, “Anna Milton”

“Dean”, Dean replies sceptically, looking down at her and dropping the hand from his head to shake her own, “And yeah, I'm in 5.”

“Ah that’s just below us!” She smiles, before looking back at the U-Haul, still mostly full of what looks to Dean like a mix of musical equipment and cardboard boxes, “Well, I better get back to that, these boxes won’t move themselves, nice to meet you Dean!”

Dean watches her turn and grab a guitar amp with her free hand, heaving it onto the pavement. She stands and enthusiastically wipes her brow.

His dad’s voice - Never let a lady carry her own luggage - echoes in his head.

Dean sighs. This day just gets better and better.

“You want any help with that?”

“Wow! Yes, that would be so kind of you!” Anna replies instantly, before picking up a microwave and waiting expectantly, smiling widely.

He clears his throat awkwardly, picking up the amp and the guitar that he had just been viciously attacked by, and follows her into the building.

- - -

As the door to Flat 7 creaks open, he glances around. He’s never been in another apartment in his building before - it’s kind of disturbing to see an apartment identical to his that isn’t his. The identical shelves of the kitchen alcove on the left are packed with kitchen appliances not yet stored away. A ratty maroon couch sits to the left of the main room. A rolled-up rug leans against the far wall, between the two windows looking out onto the street below. The golden glow of the evening sun streams in, basking the floor in warmth.

“You can just put them down wherever” Anna smiles, placing the microwave on the kitchen shelf, before calling out, “Cassie, I met our neighbour!”

Dean places the items down and glances towards the source of rustling noises coming from the room on the left - judging from the layout of Dean’s apartment , the bedroom. The door is closed just enough that he can’t see who’s there. As the door opens, the golden light filtering in through the bedroom window illuminates the figure from behind, casting a shadow over them so Dean can’t see their face, but can make out through his powers of deduction that it’s a dude.

‘Oh, hello…? ” A gruff voice tinged with surprise.

“Dean!” Anna interjects, “Dean, this is my brother Castiel.”

Castiel walks over, and Dean can make out his blue eyes, and the hints of stubble covering his face topped with a mess of brown hair. He holds Dean’s gaze, his expression not quite readable.

“Hello, Dean” Castiel says, smiling slightly before his eyes drop down to linger on the items Dean has discarded on the floor beside him

“Anna!” Castiel scolds, turning to her, “Please tell me you have not shirked your responsibilities onto someone you met mere moments ago.”

She wordlessly drops her gaze to the floor, guiltily scuffing her shoe on the wooden floorboards.

Dean could get mad, especially considering the guitar-to-head incident, but if he’s honest he just doesn’t have the energy. Plus, the kid looks like she could use a break.

“It’s fine really, I was just walking in and she looked like she could use a hand,” Dean says, turning to meet Anna’s gaze, “No biggie.”

Castiel huffs out an annoyed breath, running his hand through his hair and furrowing his brow, but he smiles anyway.

“Well… thank you Dean.” he says, before rushing to pick up the items, “We really won’t keep you any longer”

Dean doesn't let himself think that Castiel looks kind.

He takes the opportunity and leaves with a wave, hearing a “Thanks, Dean!” from Anna as he walks downstairs.

- - -

Dean doesn’t see a lot of the Milton’s for a while. Every now and then he’ll bump into Anna or Castiel on the stairs, and they’ll share polite smiles but nothing over the top. Sometimes Anna will be on her phone and won’t notice him, or Castiel will be searching for something in his bag and will be too focused to shoot Dean a glance.

Six weeks go by before he enters Apartment 7 again.

His recent car repair expenses mean he’s had to pick up some evening shifts at Benny’s bar, and as he lies awake at 2 AM having only got home an hour an a half ago, he realises booking one of these shifts before a 7AM Saturday start at the store could have been a massive mistake.

In all honesty, he’s never been that great a sleeper, but the intermittent bangs and cackles, and the faint thump of bass shaking the ceiling aren’t helping at all.

He waits half an hour before he decides to drag on his dressing-gown - yes dressing gowns are extremely manly - and trudge upstairs, rubbing his hand groggily across his face. Knocking on the door, he stares at the golden 7 for a few moments until the door opens, a woosh of warm air laced with the scent of cigarette smoke and sickly sweet cherry introducing him to someone he’s never seen before. She’s shorter than Dean, with thick brunette hair and red lips curved into what looks like more of a smirk than a smile.

She leans on the door frame, studying his face for a few moments before speaking

“Well hello there Freckles,” She says, her voice a sweet drawl, although she can’t help slurring her words slightly.

Grabbing his hand, she drags Dean towards the group in the centre of the room, his protests seeming futile.

“Found a straggler outside” she announces to the group, who all look up. There are only three people, sat sprawled in a circle: Castiel, Anna, and another man Dean doesn’t recognise sit surrounded by half-full bottles and glasses, with a deck of cards distributed between the members of the group. The man smirks up at him at the same time as Castiel’s face changes from tipsy to tipsy and alarmed. Castiel, Anna and the man speak simultaneously at the sight of Dean.

“Oh my gosh Dean I am so sorry, I told them to keep it dow-”

“Well, well, well… who do we have here then?”

“DEANNNNNNNNNNNNNN!”

Exclaiming excitedly, Anna jumps up and wraps her arms around Dean, squeezing him. He has a few moments to register the embrace, sleep still not allowing him his normal reflex time, before Castiel swiftly follows her up, dragging her arms off of Dean.

“Anna!”, he whispers, looking apologetically at Dean

“Sorry folks,” Dean continues, holding his hands up, “don’t want to intrude and ruin your little get together, just wondering if you could keep the noise down a bit? I’m up early tomorrow is all”

Castiel nods emphatically, Anna just smiles brightly at Dean. The others don’t act so enthusiastically.

“So… what’s a guy like you doing in a place like this?” The unknown man drawls, coming to stand next to the woman, leaning on her shoulder as she lets out a chuckle.

“This is Dean!” Anna interjects, “He’s our neighbour! Well, he lives downstairs …. Dean, this is our brother Gabriel, and our friend Meg. Guys, this is Dean!”

“We get it, name’s Dean,” Meg says, smirking at him again, and he feels the unsettled pit in his stomach grow, “Pity, I so preferred Freckles.”

“My little brother hasn’t told me much about you Dean,” Gabriel says, as Castiel walks over to the speaker to turn the volume down, glancing to look at his brother at the mention of his name, “Stud like you could be living it up in the city, why you certainly wouldn’t be out of place at a frat party - plenty of boobs n’ beer amirite ?”

He chuckles, slapping a hand on Dean’s shoulder, before tilting his head, his expression quizzical. Dean doesn’t know why he doesn’t just leave the room.

“In fact, even Kansas city has enough of that. You don’t exactly seem like a layabout, so tell me - how do you end up in a town like this? Amazing job prospects? Excellent options for first time home buyers?”

Gabriel smiles.

“Running away from something?”

Dean’s face hardens.

“Not tryin’ to be rude, “ he says, gritting his teeth, “but that’s none of your business.”

He looks at Castiel.

“Like I said, ” Dean shrugs the hand off his shoulder, feeling himself get more annoyed by the second, “try and keep the noise down.”

He walks out before he can hear any more.

Keep to yourself, stay out of trouble, don’t get attached

If this is what he’s got for neighbours, he doesn’t want anything to do with them.

Continue reading: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26394898/chapters/64296610

#fanfiction #fanfic #klarriel #deancas #destiel #dean winchester #castiel #ao3 #this story is my baby #only written 4 chapters but she gives me life

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