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rorywritesjunk · 1 year ago

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I can’t tell where the journey will end But I know where to start

Prequel to my Kid Buggy fic, set about 11-ish years before that story.

Buggy meets you by chance when he needs his buttons sewn back onto his jacket. He’s young, up and coming, and he thinks everyone should cower before him wherever he goes, but all you do is smile at him.

Rating: PG-13ish just for some swearing. Warning: Buggy’s in his early 20s. He’s an asshole. He just is because I wanted to write him loud, demanding, everything. A known swordsman makes a brief appearance in this. Buggy is jealous and a bit insecure in this chapter. A/N: I have no idea when Buggy became a Captain, so he’s a fresh faced captain in this. No clue how long this fic will be. Also I want to say a huge thank you to everyone who reads, reblogs, and replies on this story. I love everyone of you and it makes my day brighter knowing there are people enjoying this! So thank you thank you thank you! <3

Title comes from “Wake Me Up” by Avicii.

TAGLIST: @lostfirefly @ane5e @kingofthemfingpirates @the-angriest-angel @tiredemomama @valen-yamyam16 @i-reblog-fics-i-like @plethora-of-fickleness @uhnanix Chapter 1 + Chapter 2 + Chapter 3 + Chapter 4 + Chapter 5 + Chapter 6 + Chapter 7 + Chapter 8 + Chapter 9 + Chapter 10 + Chapter 11 + Chapter 12 + Chapter 13 + Chapter 14 + Chapter 15 + Chapter 16 + Chapter 17 + Chapter 18 + Epilogue

Chapter 7

Buggy woke up to a bucket beside his bed, a glass of water on the nightstand, and a note telling him you were in the kitchen. He was confused as to why you left him a note because he didn’t know why you were there at first. He had fuzzy memories from the previous night: going to the shop, walking back to the ship, a drink, a marriage proposal, sharing his bed-

Oh shit. He fell out of bed, horrified by how he acted towards you. That was the last thing he wanted and he scrambled to find some clothes to put on. He found his shirt from the previous night and threw it on, ignoring the stains and smell of beer coming off it. Maybe you were still on the ship and he could explain everything, unless you left and never wanted to see him again. That was entirely possible.

You were in the kitchen when he came crashing in, eating a banana as you looked at the photos he showed you last night. He froze when he saw them and you looked up with a smile.

“Good morning, Buggy.”

“Where did you get those?!”

“You showed them to me last night.” You chuckled before taking a sip of your tea. “After you asked me to marry you.”

His hand shot off to grab them but you were quicker, moving them out of his way. You then pointed to the floating hand.

“Also, can you explain this?” You asked. “Miss Pins mentioned something about Devil Fruits but I didn't get it. and last night your body… was a part for a moment and it was…interesting to see.”

How were you talking so casually about all this? It was like discussing the weather, you were asking if it was cloudy outside. Others would have been horrified, thinking he was some kind of freak for what his body could do, but you were just eating a banana as you waited for an answer.

“I… have Devil Fruit powers.” He mumbled as he sat himself in a chair across from you. “I ate the Chop Chop fruit, so my body can split apart.” He scratched his head and looked at you. “Well? Aren't you disgusted or scared of me now?”

“Am I supposed to be?” You frowned as you finished your banana. “It's not like you bleed everywhere when it happens, right? If anything it's probably useful. You took your bottle back from me last night when we were walking, which was, admittedly, a little weird, but I had already seen it before. Just after you laid down last night I realized I wanted to ask you.”

“So…you're not disgusted that my body does this?”

“Buggy, I don't find your body disgusting.” You assured him as you sipped your tea. “Okay?”

He blushed and looked away. “Really? Even my nose?”

“I think it's cute.” You smiled.

“Sh-shut up! Don't lie to me!” He shot back as he glared at you.

“I'm not, promise.” You assured him as you looked back at the photos. “You were so cute as a kid.”

Buggy sat back in his seat, still glaring at you as you set the pictures down and got up to pour him some tea. Did you really think his nose was cute or were you just saying that? So far you'd never been mean to him, only occasionally teasing him, but he still was wary when it came to his nose.

When his tea was ready you brought the cup back to him and pushed the plate of fruit over to him. “I figured fruit would be a good post-birthday hangover meal. You need to hydrate.”

He crossed his arms and eyed the plate before looking back at you. “Why are you still here? I figured you would have left.”

“I wanted to make sure you were okay.” You told him as you picked up an apple and cut into it, separating it into slices. “You said stuff about me making you happy if I married you, and… I got worried.”

“I'm fine.” He grumbled as he looked down at his lap. “I was drunk, ignore what I was saying.”

You put the apple slices down on the plate before getting back up to find something with protein for him. He picked up one of the slices and shoved it in his mouth as he turned to watch you. He acted like a damn idiot last night but you stuck around to make sure he was okay. Did you want something from him or did you genuinely care about him? This wasn’t something he was used to or expected, so it was a little hard for him to understand. You found a jar of peanut butter in a cupboard and grabbed it.

“Here, have this.” You opened it, noting that it still seemed edible before finding a spoon to scoop some out for him onto the plate. He watched you suspiciously before he helped himself to the peanut butter.

“You don't have to stay.” He said with his mouth full of food. “Your boss is gonna come looking for you.”

You shrugged as you sat back down in your chair. “I'll leave in a bit, but only if you walk me back.”

He glanced up at you with a frown, but you said nothing as you grabbed a towel and wiped his face for him. He grumbled and tried to pull away from you but you didn't let him, making sure his face was clean before you sat back down. He glared at you, face flushed as he finished his plate.

“Ignore everything I said last night.” He said again as he looked down at the plate. “I was drunk.”

“So you don't think I'm nice?” You asked with wide eyes, feigning surprise. “Or soft? You don't want to marry me then?”

“I-I do!” He said before slapping his hand over his mouth. You grinned at him and leaned back in your chair. He glared at you. “You're cruel.”

“I thought I was nice.” You teased as you sipped your tea. He crossed his arms and huffed in annoyance as you grinned at him. “Let's finish up, I need to head back. I have a customer returning today and I need to make sure he gets his order.”

He just grumbled as he drank his own tea. You got up and tidied up the kitchen, making sure to wash the dishes and dry them. He watched you as you moved about, enjoying how you already felt comfortable on the ship, that you seemed to know where everything was already in the kitchen. It was a sight he could get used to, he decided, but he didn't know if it was something you'd want.

“Let's head out, okay?” You said with a smile.

Buggy just nodded, but instead of leaving the ship you led him back to his room to put the pictures back while he pulled his boots back on. You found him a clean(er) shirt to wear and held it out to him, turning you back so he could change. He didn't know why, you obviously saw him shirtless (and he had a brief flashback to what he thought was going to happen last night and he momentarily died of embarrassment before straightening back up), but once he was ready he reached to put his bandana back on when you stopped him.

“Can you leave it down?” You asked, your own cheeks pink as you reached out to touch a lock of his hair. “It's um, just so pretty. I’d like to see it.”

He stared at you, wondering if you were teasing him again, but you weren't. A lock of his hair was entwined in your fingers as you ran your thumb over it, and when you realized what you were doing you let go and put your hands behind your back.

“Sorry.”

“No, it's…fine.” Buggy said as he tossed the bandana aside. He always put his hair up, finding it to be a nuisance as it got longer. His Devil Fruit made it difficult to get a haircut, it just reattached itself whenever he tried to cut it, so he gave up and let it get long. He didn't think it was a feature someone would care about, like his nose.

You smiled at him, he felt his face heating up and he looked away as he held his arm out to you. When you linked your arm with his he straightened up before he marched out of his room with you on his arm, thinking today would be a good day.

When he saw your customer he was horrified by how handsome he was. Dark hair, cheekbones, sharp, yellow eyes. And you were nice, helping your customer into his coat, explaining what you did with his request, and when you touched his shoulders Buggy couldn't help but feel jealous because you did that for him too, you always made sure his coat fit him, but it was obvious now that you did it for everyone. Buggy had no reason to feel special.

When you finished up, your customer kissed your hand before leaving. Buggy was seething. You just shook your head before grabbing Buggy by the hand and leading him to the backroom.

“I have a present for you, Buggy.”

He tried to ignore Benji saying how cool that guy looked or Miss Pins commenting how that customer was so handsome because he knew they wouldn't think that way about him, so why would you? He said nothing as you let go of his hand and retrieved a small white box from a pile of other ones. He crossed his arms, glaring at his feet as you walked back over to him and held it out.

“Happy birthday.” You said, but he wouldn't take it from you. “Buggy?”

“You didn't know it was my birthday until last night.” He mumbled. “How do you have a gift for me already?”

You shrugged as you opened the box for him. He still wouldn't look at you. “I thought of it this morning. I did some hand stitching on this for a customer who never came back for it, but thankfully he prepaid for it.” You pulled out a square of silk, a light purple color, and held it out to him. He finally looked up, reaching out to touch it with his fingers carefully. “I thought it would look better on you than in some box.”

He hesitated and pulled his hand back. He didn't deserve a gift like this from you, especially considering on your own birthday he was an asshole to you. You said nothing as you rolled the fabric loosely before draping it over his neck. You pulled his hair out from under it before you looped it into a knot and tightened it just a bit.

You smiled as you tugged on the front of it gently. “It looks good on you, Buggy.”

Buggy swallowed heavily and nodded. You were so close to him right then. His heart was pounding and his palms were sweaty. If he didn't do what he wanted to do right then he would regret it. You'd get romanced by someone else, some more handsome pirate, and he had to make it up to you for what he did on your birthday.

Without a word he leaned forward, pressing his lips to yours, nose bumping and-

Honk!

Buggy froze and pulled back from you, a look of horror on his face at what just happened. You stared at him, but before he could bolt you grabbed the front of his shirt and kissed him back, tilting your head just enough to avoid bumping his nose. He kept his arms at his sides, unsure where to put them.

It felt like it went by too quickly when you pulled back from him, smiling brightly as you pecked him on the cheek.

“Is this a belated birthday gift, Buggy?” You teased as you let go of his shirt. He was red in the face but he grinned, shrugging his shoulders as he tried to be smooth.

“D’you want it to be?” He asked. You touched the silk around his neck and leaned into him, but he leaned back, expecting some kind of surface to support him, but instead he fell backwards and crashed onto the floor.

You immediately knelt down and helped him sit up, checking him for injury. He seemed fine, just embarrassed, so you kissed him on the cheek.

“It could be, but I wouldn't say no to flowers.”

#buggy the clown #buggy the clown x reader #buggy x reader #buggy x you #buggy the clown x you #opla buggy the clown #opla buggy the clown x reader #opla buggy x reader #opla buggy the clown x you #opla buggy x you #buggy the clown x oc #buggy x oc #opla buggy the clown x oc #opla buggy x oc #sunny x buggy #one piece #one piece oc #one piece fanfiction

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scorpiongrassfield · 1 year ago

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It’s Time To Face The Music

Start | Prev (Content warnings for blood and casual self harm)

The thought of it is killing you.

“I think I know why,” you say anyway.

You’re pretty sure you’re bleeding again.

Your heart is in your throat, closing it up and making it hard to speak.

But you have to say something.

“I think,” you start.

Your ears are ringing. The room is swaying.

“I think,” you try again. You can’t say it. You have to say it, but you can’t. “I think this is a memory,” you finish. And that’s not right. You flinched. You're disappointed in yourself.

The lighter in your pocket is so hot. It’s the only thing you can feel right now.

“What? How does that explain…” Pat says, not following.

You shake your head. “It doesn’t, not that. But it explains something else.” Maybe you can circle back around and try again.

You move closer to the board, and Concrete follows you, almost tripping you as it stays underfoot.

“You get deja vous constantly. You keep waking up thinking you need to feed a cat you don’t remember owning. Theo knows you, but you don’t remember him. I think we’ve been in a memory of how you met Theo the first time,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady.

Pat squints at the murder board as they consider what you’ve said.

Then they straighten up, eyes wide in realization. “The fucking sun,” they swear, smaking their head and knocking their sunglasses slightly askew. “That would explain it perfectly. I don’t keep track of the sun, and the only time I’d remember where it was in the sky is when it’s right in my eyes,” they reason.

“But,” they say, beginning to pace again, “there are too many things that theory doesn’t explain. I don’t think it’s possible to just re-write a memory on the fly as you go, the way it would be happening here. Trina can’t, at least,” Pat says, rubbing at their chin as they speak. “And why would Theo trap us in a memory? If he’s on our side, that’s basically the most dangerous place to put us, what with Ametrine’s powers. And if he’s on her side, why not just hand us over to her?”

“I think he hid it. I only just happened to stumble into it. And Ametrine seemed to stay focused on the Cabin and the area around it. And Theo implied that his memories do kind of… come back after a while? Since nothing Ametrine does to him is permanent. The memory is inside his soul. Which I think might also be hiding inside of yours,” you stumble.

“What? Why?” Pat stops pacing.

You take a moment to explain the stacked canvases that Theo showed you before.

Pat doesn’t look convinced. “Stacking is very different from being inside one another, kid. You’re making a leap I’m not following, here.”

You ignore the innuendo because now is not the time.

“I woke up inside Theo’s soul, and then stumbled into where you are. But Ametrine is after you and me, not him. She’s in his soul looking for you. But how can you be here? I think Ametrine attacked you, and Theo brought you in here to keep you safe. Insulated. Since she can’t exorcize him,” you say. You’re holding onto the lighter in your pocket. The heat grounds you in a weird way.

“That still doesn’t explain exactly why she attacked me. I’m harboring a ghost? Sure I do that a lot. She’s never tried to mind wipe me over it,” Pat says, folding their arms again.

Silence falls between you.

This is the time to say it.

You clench your fist around the lighter, rallying your strength.

“You said you know why and then sidestepped it,” Pat prods.

“What. What if.” your throat is closing up again. You feel tears welling up in your eyes. But you have to say it. “What if there was a person that could rewrite memories. That lived inside them?” Your shirt and hoodie are soaked with blood. Pat hasn’t noticed.

Pat is looking at you with a quizzical expression. “What if Ametrine attacked you because you…” You take a big shaky breath. “You were harboring an urban legend?”

“You think Theo is an urban legend?” Pat asks, sounding thoroughly unconvinced. “I guess that’s possible, but it pokes a hole in the rest of your theories. Legends have no immunity to exorcists.”

The only thing keeping you from just crumpling to the floor is the thought that you’d probably squish concrete, who is sitting on top of your feet.

“Not Theo. Me,” you finally grit out.

Your vision is a little fuzzy around the edges.

Pat looks utterly shocked for a moment, then twists their expression back into disbelief, shaking their head. “That’s not possible. We’ve known each other for three years. Living together, even. I’d have noticed if you were killing people, or I’d be dead by now if your target was me. There’s no way. You’re just a normal ghost,” they say.

And that hurts to hear, it really does. They’ve ripped that bandaid off, only to reveal a festering wound underneath.

You shake your head.

“You would have noticed if I was a normal ghost. But you were convinced I wasn’t, mostly because you thought ghosts couldn’t eat,” you say. Pat’s smart and observant and always looking for ghosts. They would have noticed. Unless…

“Once you learned that ghosts can eat but can’t taste, you said it felt like you’d always known that. What if someone… no, what if I altered your memory to make you feel less suspicious towards me?” You feel sick just thinking about it.

“You think you’d do that to me?” Pat asks, looking troubled.

You nod. “I think I must have.”

Pat puts a hand on their hip. “Alright, say you are an urban legend. What’s your story? An urban legend without a legend is just a ghost, angry or not.”

You feel like you’re either going to catch on fire or pass out. The thought of explaining the whole thing sounds worse than everything you’ve already had to say.

You let go of the lighter in favor of fishing your phone out of your other pocket. The sudden absence of heat is simultaneously a relief and a bitter loss.

You pull up the urban legend on your phone. Concrete mrrs in complaint as they move away from your feet when you take a step closer to Pat to hand the phone to them.

“This is me,” you say.

Pat doesn’t look at the phone. “Shit. You’re bleeding,” Pat says, finally noticing. You can barely hear them over the blood rushing in your ears.

“Doesn’t matter. I’m already dead, aren’t I?” you almost want to laugh. You can finally say it out loud, and so cavalier.

“It still matters. Dead or not, you’re still a person,” they say, attempting to put a steady hand on your shoulder.

You back away.

“No I’m not. I’m an urban legend. I’m like a zombie, remember?” remind Pat of their own words.

Pat winces. “I’ve been wrong before, maybe I was wrong about that too,” they try.

You shake your head. “Just read it. You’ll change your mind about me.”

“Sylv,” Pat says, sounding half-frustrated and half-heartbroken.

You don’t respond to them, because your body - or is it your spirit? - finally gives out on you. The floor is a hard thing to hit, but it doesn’t hurt the way it should.

You almost think you should be proud of yourself for staying standing as long as you did. Almost.

Instead of merciful unconsciousness, you find yourself in a field of blue flowers once more.

The roar of a nearby wildfire echoes the roar of the blood in your ears.

You feel very, very tired. But you know you can’t rest just yet.

#choose your own adventure #interactive fiction #writeblr #original writing

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philhoffman · 2 years ago

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This week’s Monday Philm is The Boat That Rocked (2009), AKA Pirate Radio (and a million other names). I’m really glad this is the movie that came up chronologically this week because in addition to being one of my favorites, it’s a warm and pretty lighthearted one.

I could easily watch the rumored five-hour cut of this movie every day. Aside from the government scenes and sex crime, every moment of this film is so much fun. I always think I’ve built it up more in my head than it really is (I think about this film very, very often) but then it hits such a stride in the last hour or so and it’s tremendous fun. One of the most fun movies to watch, I love every second spent on this boat. Certain lines catch me by surprise and make me laugh out loud every time—Rhys Darby is SO funny, he really stood out on this rewatch.

Phil was the first to point out that The Boat That Rocked is an ensemble film, and it definitely is—Carl is the closest thing it has to a protagonist, and even then he spends most of the film in the background. But it’s also undeniably grounded by Philip Seymour Hoffman’s The Count. There might be a few practical reasons that explain why that is—the only American in the script, the biggest star in the cast—but it really comes down to his ineffable qualities, his unspoken power as an actor. Oddly enough it reminded me a bit of A Most Wanted Man, the way everyone and everything else gravitates towards and around his character, his presence. Earlier this week I reblogged a post about how all the famous British comedians in the cast competed with each other to see who could make Phil laugh the most. You can hear his laugh over everyone else’s. He’s always been amazing among ensembles, knowing when to shine and when to fit (but never fade) into the background—Boogie Nights, Magnolia, State and Main, even stealing scenes in Leap of Faith—but by this age (and in roles of authority, perhaps) he’s got a natural command.

I love the Count. My favorite PSH character changes daily but he’s often number one. Maybe it’s stuff I’ve read lately, maybe it’s the fact that I watched it this week and I’m projecting, but I really picked up on his sadness this time. The Boat That Rocked is a comedy about pirate DJs in the 1960s, but it has some depth and a few very tender moments, especially toward the end. The Count sitting alone on the deck, thinking about how the best days of his life are over. Deciding to go down with his ship because music is all he has. Knowing there will be more amazing songs in the future, but he will not be around to play them. The Count of Cool, the Count of Chaos. Always home, always uncool.

There’s a moment when, as the Count and Gavin are stuck high on the ship’s mast, Phil sorta pops his jaw out—and for a second I saw him at 25 again, doing the same exact gesture in My Boyfriend’s Back. That happens a lot, recognizing the slightest gestures across decades, especially as I rewatch his films more and more, always searching for something. He’s 30-something and rolls his eyes the same way he will in a decade. He’s a kid standing with his hands on his hips the same way he’ll stand when he’s 46 years old. He blinks with his whole face the same way his son will someday. He disappears into characters but for a second he smiles or turns away and I can see the man I’ve been so fortunate to come to love. That red-haired, freckle-faced boy, the man who was asked in an interview about this film what music he would save in a fire and said “If I could get out of the house with my family, everything else could burn.”

Phil died nine years ago this week and I don’t want that to be the focus of this review, I don’t want it to be the focus of anything, I still don’t want it to be real. But it bleeds into everything, so I’m just trying to find some softness in it. Before watching tonight, I went to the store to pick up some of his favorite donuts (my favorite kind, too, and I swear I’m not copying him he just has good taste!). Seems like something he’d appreciate. I miss you a lot, Phil.

#a king among actors and a man among men #grateful for every minute #monday philm #spent all week thinking the thirstiest thoughts about the count only for this viewing to hit me like a sack of sad potatoes instead #such is the way of grief and loss.#the boat that rocked #pirate radio #philip seymour hoffman #psh #*#love your funky fu manchu

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youdontknowwheretogofromhere · 3 months ago

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Monday, September 23, 2024 8:42 pm

i didn’t go to school today :P i’ve been sick since friday and it’s gotten a little better i guess. i was sooo sick friday i literally couldn’t stand up, i was so hot and sweaty it was gen disgusting

anyways, I’m still sick and i’ve been having loads of nosebleeds so that sucks, thats actually why i didn’t want to go to school cuz i was scared of my nose bleeding in the middle of class and most of my teachers don’t have tissues so id just be kinda fucked

sorry for swearing, I’m just a little runt you know? i also have homework due tomorrow that i’ve had since like thursday to do and i haven’t done it soo

as you know per my last post, I’m 16(i don’t remember if i said that lol) and I’m such a fucking loser i know but i’ve got a boyfriend(?) for the first time(ill explain later) but i’ve met him on discord cuz i was super desperate and whatever

and i’ve met him

changing the song I’m listening to hold on

i’ve met him about a little more than a month ago(i’ve been trying to make more bad decisions lately) actually i want to expound up l

sorry my nose started bleeding a little bit

i want to expound upon that more. i felt like i’ve been too responsible my whole life, like internet safety meant the world to me and shit. but then i was like, am i missing out? not that i want bad shit to happen to me, but i feel like everyone has does stupid internet shit once in their life so like i want it too?? and i feel a little more stupid because like my actions lack authenticity so it’s so much lamer. like if i was some 16 year old kid that’s just so desperate for a relationship they date some internet because they haven’t thought about the repercussions then it’s like a thing to look back on and ittle be like “ohh i was such a dumb kid hahah” but since i know what I’m doing i just look like a dumb fuck.

it’s not even that i don’t like the guy, he’s really nice to me and he acts like he really likes me. idk if he’s lying to get something out of me but I’m just gonna pretend it’s real for now and hope it goes well for me

that sounds really sad lol. i just mean like he’s the only person ever in my life that has acted attracted to me and everything so like ther

changed the song again

there’s something there that’s keeping me instead of just letting me realize this is a really bad idea and i shouldn’t just block him or something. he’s got something up with him and maybe i’ll complain about it another day but

OMG ALSO like 20 minutes ago i asked him if he wanted to call and he didn’t answer cuz ig he’s too busy playing dark souls 1 or something. which only pisses me off cuz it took a lot out of me to even ask. i have social anxiety(idk what it is actually) but like i feel like genuine pain when i have to speak to people and reaching out to him almost made my heart explode, which it does all the time. and ive been trying to make an effort to be braver and talk to people more but its so hard. its been working tho, I’m actually able to start and somewhat hold a conversation now. actually the only reason we r even talking rn is cuz i was trying to get better at social interaction. like the third time he dmed me, i considered not responding and just ghosting him but i was like, “NO. YOU NEED TO COMMIT TO THIS.” so i did and now we are like dating(?)

to explain the question marks, and i still haven’t gotten over this. he asked me one day if we were together or something along those lines then i was like “i though we were already together” and he’s all like “well if we were together i think we would text more”

and omg it pissed me off to no end. THE GUY WHO CANT TEXT ME FIRST SAYS WE NEED TO TALK MORE. ARE TOU FUCKING SERIOUS??? like dude so we aren’t dating in ur book unless we talk more(and this is after he said we were taking things slow, which i[how do i do italics] thought was code for casual dating) and then won’t fucking talk to me unless i say something

and I’m only complaining cuz he’s older than me(he’s 18) and has also been in a relationship before( also told me one time that i was acting like his ex and i almost shot and killed myself) like dude, i already told you about my anxiety and shit

whatever anyways it’s been like 30 minutes and he still hasn’t said anything. who cares. i didn’t. even want to call him anyways

what really sucks is i really like him and think about him all the time and idk and i haven’t called him in like a week T-T

I’m so fucking lame god

okay i don’t think i have any more things to complain about so i hope you all have a good day/night/morning! i love you. i really do love you. you took the time to read my stupid ramblings and i really love you. god i want to cry but i can’t even cry anymore

should i start numbering these?

9:15 pm

#rambles #ramblings #diary #idiot #i wanted to do a custom tag to put on all my posts but i forgot #w and the great big white #relationship advice needed maybe #complaining #i’m so annoying #i love you so much

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loove-persevering · 2 years ago

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Hi! I’m not sure if your requests are open but I wanted to request something for Steve Harrington where the reader gets hurt after getting in a fight with someone and Steve’s pissed so he helps patch her up while she tries to convince him not to cause more trouble, also reader is Dustin’s sister so he’s mad too

Steve Harrington x reader Blurb! based off this request!

Your head was tilted up so you could try and stop the nosebleed that hadn’t stopped since you got pushed into the brick wall. ‘’Will this work?’’ Dustin asks, holding a bag of frozen peas.

‘’It should but I don’t need that right now, I need another towel.’’ You tell him waving your blood soaked towel at him so he understands. You heard a knock at the door at that moment, you glared at Dustin who looked just as surprised but he also looked a little scared. ‘’Who the hell is that?’’ You ask him.

‘’Uh,’’ He pauses running back into the kitchen. The person at the door began to knock persistently and you could swear you heard the doorbell jiggle as if they were going to come in. ‘’I’ll be right back,’’ He says, running past you out the door. You tried to get a glance of who was at the door when he opened it but he quickly slammed it shut too fast.

You sat in silence for a few minutes, head still tilted up trying to stop the bleeding. ‘’She got in a fight?’’ You heard a familiar voice yell before the front door opened and Steve came barreling through the living room straight over to you.

‘’You called Steve?’’ You yell at him. ‘’I told you to not call him!’’ Dustin was practically shrinking as you yelled at him.

‘’You got in a fight?’’ He ask his hands coming up and slightly lifting the towel from your nose, ‘’What happened?’’ He asks you.

‘’Nothing,’’ You say, glancing over to Dustin. ‘’Dustin, can you give us a minute?’’ You ask him.

‘’Why?’’ He asks.

‘’Because I need to talk to Steve privately and you invited him over when I told you not to.’’ You say glancing to Steve, ‘’So you owe me.’’

Dustin huffed before stomping his way back to his room shutting his door. ‘’Why didn’t you call me?’’ Steve asks, his hands resting on his hips. You felt the smile creeping up on your face at his stance, ‘’What? What could possibly be funny?’’ He asks.

‘’You look like such a mother,’’ You tell him. ‘’I feel like I am being interrogated by my mom.’’ You point out but Steve just kept a straight face.

‘’Not a mom, just your boyfriend.’’ He tells you. ‘’What happened?’’ He asks, emphasizing each word.

You gesture for him to sit next to you and he reluctantly does. ‘’I was waiting for Dustin to leave D&D club and I heard these kids making fun of him, they were like seniors I think on the basketball team.’’ You explain. ‘’I was scared Dustin would come out and hear so I went over to them and told them to politely shut up.’’

‘’Politely?’’ Steve says giving you a look knowing better, you had a temper that was easily agitated just like Dustin especially when it came to defending your brother.

‘’I did it as politely as I could but they were just being mean so-’’ You explained. ‘’Anyway one of them said something stupid and I pushed him on his shoulders and he shoved me into the wall, the brick one and I went in face first.’’ You tell him. ‘’So Dusitn exaggerated it wasn’t a fight per say.’’ You pointed out to him.

‘’But he pushed you? He physically put his hands on you and shoved you?’’ Steve asks, standing up. You nod reluctantly. ‘’Who was it Y/N?’’ He demands.

You shake your head, ‘’It doesn’t matter Steve, it’s done.’’ You tell him.

‘’I’ll go ask around, someone had to see something.’’ He tells you walking toward the door. ‘’If you don’t tell me I will find out they can’t just push my girlfriend and think that’s okay.’’ Steve says his breath was getting quicker. You had never seen him this mad before.

You followed behind him closely and sigh looking up at him when you finally have his bicep in your grasp, ‘’Can I just have my sweet boyfriend take care of me tonight?’’ You glance up at him giving him the biggest puppy eyes you possibly could. ‘’All I want is to watch a movie with my boyfriend and eat crappy food.’’

‘’He could’ve really hurt you Y/N,’’ He says. ‘’If I see him I am gonna kick his ass.’’ He points out.

You were about to plead for him not to do it again but then you heard your brothers voice coming from the hallway, ‘’Yeah me too.’’ Dustin says, crossing his arms. ‘’If I see him his ass is grass,’’ Dustin says.

‘’His ass is what?’’ You ask in disbelief. ‘’Where did you hear that phrase?’’ You ask with a laugh.

‘’At camp,’’ He says.

‘’Neither of you,’’ You say glancing back and forth to both of them, ‘’Are you gonna do anything to anyone got it?’’

Steve's hand gently touches yours pulling the cloth away from your nose, his other hand gently tips your chin up toward him and he seems to be examining your nose. ‘’How do you still look beautiful?’’ He asks with a hint of a smile. ‘’Even when you’re being bossy?’’

You heard Dustin fake gagging from the hallway and before you even replied to Steve you looked to Dustin poking your tongue out at him, ‘’Shut up.’’ You glance back to Steve who was still looking at you, his eyes showing nothing but admiration. ‘’What?’’ You ask him feeling vulnerable just by his look.

‘’Nothing, nothing.’’ A smirk on his face. ‘’Come on,’’ He says, leading you over to the couch, ‘’I’ll make you some popcorn and tell Dustin to put on whatever movie you want,’’ He says, glancing over to him. He reached over your head grabbing the blanket from behind you, laying it in your lap so you were covered.

Hope you like it! Sorry it took me so long!

#king steve #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington stranger things #steve harrington #stranger things

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jaozendry · 2 years ago

Text

"Loving you is hard sometimes": PART 2

Pairing: Damian Wayne x Bat Family!Reader

Reader: Gender Neutral, has been part of the Bat Family for a while.

TAGS: @aesthxticneko

PART 1

Type: Mild-angst

Warnings: swearing, blood, wounds

OTHER CHARACTERS: Dick Grayson

Summary: The both of you have been avoiding each other for a few weeks now. One day, Damian confronts you and challenges you to a "friendly" one-on-one. Due to his anger issues, Damian accidentally harms you badly. After recovery, Dick decides to make the both of you attend therapy.

______________________________________________________________

"So, who would like to start?" a blonde woman asks after taking a pen and opening her notebook. Damian sits across from you, crossing his arms. An awkward silence occurs for a few seconds. "Why do you think you're here?" she asks again. Damian turns to you, waiting for a response. "Well, I guess I'll start." you sigh, attempting to break the ice. "Well, I think we're here because of some issues the two of us have been having... with each other." you explain awkwardly while Damian stares at you weirdly. "Would you like to describe what those issues are?" the therapist asks, turning her attention towards your friend. He remains silent. "This is a safe place, Damian. We are here to help you resolve your problems." the woman explains. You look at your friend, crossing your arms as well. He looks back at you and rolls his eyes. "This is a waste of time." he grumbles. The woman sighs and goes through her notes.

"Well, Mr. Grayson filled me in a little about what happened during the last few weeks." she adds. "The two of you have stopped talking after a mission and after training, Y/N was found on the floor, bleeding, with a wound to the stomach." Damian immediately looks at the ground. "Would any one of you fill me in on what happened on the mission first?" Damian patiently waits for your answer once again. "I tried helping him out during the mission and he just wouldn't accept it, I guess. He says he doesn't need help with anything when he clearly does. I mean, he almost died on that mission before I intervened." The lady nods her head while listening to you and taking notes. "And, in the Batfamily, we do everything to help him out and he pretends like nothing ever happened. I guess I just had enough of his bullshit."

The therapist finishes writing her notes. "I see." she says. "How does that negligence affect you?" she asks you. "I guess it hurts me because he just doesn't notice the efforts I do for him, or anyone's, really." Damian finally speaks up: "Shut up! I do notice your efforts. They're just... unnecessary." he declares while looking at the floor. "I don't need any help. At all. Just accept it." You turn to him in disbelief. "Can you just accept that you do need help?!" you finally snap. "I've been pouring my heart out for you all these years and all I get in return is shit! You may be the grandson of Ra's al Ghul or even the son of Batman, but you're not invincible! Batman needs help, Ra's al Ghul needs help, everyone needs help! You just accept it!"

Damian rolls his eyes. "God, you're insufferable." he grumbles. You turn back to the therapist, fuming. She has a shocked expression on her face. "Well... I think it's better for all of us if we just end it here for today."

______________________________________________________________

"So, how'd it go?" Dick asks you while driving. "Terrible." you reply. "He can be a real pain in the ass sometimes." Dick laughs. "Yeah, true." he chuckles. You look at the window. "Does it still hurt?" Dick asks. "What? The wound or my feelings?" you ask him, still looking at the window. "The wound." he replies. "And also, can I ask what even happened in there? A nasty wound like that doesn't just grow overnight." You sigh. "Well, he wanted to spar after a few weeks of not talking. I went easy on him, but I guess he didn't. I don't know, kid has a lot of unresolved anger issues." You turn to Dick, tears in your eyes. "I can't take it anymore, Dick." You lean on your arm. "Am I doing something wrong?" Dick turns to you. "No, you aren't. Damian's just a little asshole sometimes." You wipe away your tears.

"God, why am I still in love with him?"

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threelionsgirl · 2 years ago

Text

girls things | jadon sancho + marcus rashford

request: "heyy pls can u write a long imagine about when hope jesses kid gets her period when hanging out with jadon and marcus and they don’t know what to do so they comfort her whilst they call reader for help..? tysm" warnings: none word count: 1165 notes: requests are closed! masterlist

"That's not working." Marcus said to Jadon.

The two of them were standing outside the ladies' room of an ice cream parlour that they had decided to go to for a walk with Hope. It was being a nice day, until little Lingard started to get a little weird and locked herself in the bathroom.

At first, the Manchester United boys just thought she was too tight to pee, but they started to get worried about her taking so long. The two really treated Jesse's little girl like a niece and always took her out for walks when they could.

"Hope, for God's sake, you need to tell us if something is going on so we can help you." Jadon tried once more, knocking on the door, but silence remained.

"We should go in." Marcus suggested.

"We can't go in the ladies' room, Rash!"

"Then what the hell are we going to do? Jesse will kill us if anything happens to Hope."

"She just went into the bathroom, nothing that serious could have happened, right?" Jadon pondered. The two were startled when they finally heard the girl's scream from the other side of the door.

"I'm bleeding!!!" They widened their eyes, desperation starting to creep in, imagining the worst things in the world. She could have slipped and hit her head on the sink or else cut herself with something they had forgotten inside.

"What the f-" Marcus stopped himself from saying the swear word, "Hope, are you okay?"

"Okay, little girl, stay calm, we're coming in."

"NO!" Her scream stopped Jadon from turning the knob. "Don't come in."

"We need to get in so we can help you."

"No!" she denied once again and Jadon and Marcus looked at each other in doubt as to whether or not they should override her consent.

"Okay, just tell us, why are you bleeding?" Jadon tried, maybe it was no big deal. She was lucid and talking to them, which was good.

"I… I don't know." She spoke loud enough for them to hear, the answer only made Jadon and Marcus more confused and worried.

"God, Jesse is never going to let us go out with her again." Rashford said to Jadon. "We should get someone to help us."

"Who? "Jesse wasn't an option at that moment even though he was the father and if Hope didn't want the two of them to come in, people she had known since she was a little kid, it wasn't possible to ask a stranger. They stared at each other for a few minutes and seemed to think of the perfect person, so they spoke at the same time, "Y/N."

Then Marcus pulled out his mobile and started calling the girl.

"Hope, just tell us it's not your head that's bleeding." Jadon wanted to make sure.

"It's not my head."

"Less bad." He said, and they both stood there by the door waiting.

Y/N appeared minutes later, she tried to be as quick as possible after Marcus had stressed so many times how urgent it was.

"What the hell is going on here?" she asked as she entered the ice cream parlour and approached them. The boys disentangled themselves from the wall and sighed.

"Y/N! Thank God!" Spoke Rashford holding her shoulders and shaking them a little.

"What's the matter with you guys? And why did I have to come so quickly? Where's Hope? Lingard said you guys went out together today." She asked, looking around for the little girl, until she realised they were in front of the door to the girls' bathroom.

"So… She's in the bathroom and won't come out." Jadon explained. "And she doesn't want to let us in either. We thought you might have better luck."

"She's bleeding!"

"She what-" Y/N's eyes widened at what Marcus said, but it took her only a few seconds to join all the dots. A girl bleeding in a bathroom and not wanting help from anyone male could only mean one thing. "Oh sure. You two are so clueless. Give me some space." She laughed and Jadon and Marcus walked away, rolling their eyes. Calling them idiots was Y/N's favourite thing to do.

Y/N approached and knocked three times on the door before speaking. "Hey, Hope, it's me, Y/N. Can I come in?"

She waited a few seconds and Hope answered. "Y/N?"

"Yeah, honey, it's me, Uncle Marcus called for me to come and help you, are you okay, can I open the door?"

"Yes, but only you."

The sound of the lock opening echoed through the room, Y/N opened the door and walked into the bathroom. She found Hope curled up and sitting on the floor, knowing exactly what she had to do.

When they came out of the bathroom, Y/N at first refused to speak, the only thing Marcus and Jadon noticed was that Hope was wearing the sweatshirt Y/N took, tied around her waist and that she was fine, with no apparent sequelae. They called Jesse and dropped Hope off at home.

In the car, Jadon, who was in the driver's seat, looked at Y/N in the passenger seat. Marcus was in the back and leaned forward to elicit answers from the girl, they were still very confused.

"So, are you going to tell us what happened? Because I don't know Jad, but I was pretty worried."

"I was too." Said Jadon starting the car. "And scared. Really scared of Jesse."

Y/N laughed. "It was no big deal, Hope was on her period." The boys opened their mouths and shook their heads, that explained a lot, "I didn't want to say when we left the bathroom so as not to embarrass her further."

"Oh shit, she could have told us!"

"She was embarrassed, Marcus!" Exclaimed Y/N turning back. Jadon slapped his hand on her arm indicating for her to put on her belt and Y/N rolled her eyes. Those two were so protective. "And she was a bit colicky and out of pads. I gave her some and some medicine too to ease the pain."

"She shouldn't be ashamed of us, we're her uncles long before she was born."

"You may even know her since she was a little baby, but she's still a girl, and you're still two stupid boys." Y/N and Marcus and Jadon made a fake face of indignation at the comment. "It's super normal for her to not want to share some things with you guys, but this whole being ashamed thing is just a phase, we women are structurally taught to be ashamed and want to hide our menstrual period."

"Hm…" Marcus muttered. "Right, so, Jad, write it down: next time we're going out with Hope we're going to need to stop by a pharmacy first."

"Why a pharmacy?"

"To buy medicine, hot bags and pads." He replied proud of his future plan and Y/N rolled her eyes imagining the scene. Jadon and Marcus were clueless, they could buy 50 packs of pads and dump them all over Hope.

"Don't do that, for God's sake!" She laughed. "Hope will never want to go out with you again."

#jadon sancho #marcus rashford #jesse lingard #manchester united #jadon sancho x reader #marcus rashford x reader #jadon sancho imagine #jadon sancho fluff #manchester united imagines #jadon sancho one shot #hope lingard #football fluff #football imagines #requests: jadon sancho #my writing: jadon sancho

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muichiroslover · 4 years ago

Note

Heyo could I request a ban x reader

Where ban and y/n first started dating before elaine so when elaine got into the picture she was a little jealous of their relationship and would try and break them up. And so one day ban and y/n got into an argument, the next day y/n and all of her stuff was gone. Elaine thinking it was a perfect time to take ban tries to comfort him but all he can think about is y/n. So eventually he finds y/n and apologizes in which y/n forgives him.

HAPPY ENDINGG

(Srry If its 2 long u don't have to do it if u dont want 2) (also I do not hate elaine xD)

Hi hi!! Yes I love this idea I love me some angst with happy ending 👀 I hope this is to your liking butterscotch!! <33 enjoy (●’◡’●)ﾉ♥︎♥︎

(Sorry it’s a little late ☹︎)

Pairings: Ban x reader

Warnings: Mentions of blood and wounds (not bad)

Genre: Angst with happy ending

_______________________________________________

You and ban had been a couple for as long as you could remember, at first it was kind of hard to approach him when you guys first met but when you guys had warmed up to each other you guys were absolutely inseparable

You guys did everything together and you were so well known your couple name around towns were “The bandit couple”

As you guys explored the world one night Ban brought up news about this drink that could give you immortality, using the sly line

“Then we can be together forever”

To which you laughed and hit him playfully, but he was entirely serious, you sighed and ended up agreeing to your adventurous boyfriends plan, if it wasn’t real at least you guys would have a fun time

So you guys began your journey to the fairy kings forest, when you guys had finally got to the tree you looked up and groaned

“That’s a huge tree, do we have to climb it?” You ask and he snorts as he already begins getting his hands and legs ready to climb

“You don’t have to, you can wait down here” he says smugly and you glare at the back of his head

“No I’m coming, I might as well see it through” you mutter annoyed to which he laughed

“That’s my girl” he says and you look away in embarrassment, feeling flustered at the comment which almost sent the blue haired man flying off the tree in amusement

As you guys climbed and finally made it to the top a girl, a little one at that looked at you both with a straight face as she puts her hand up and a huge wind blows you guys off

You scream in fear as you get blown far back and far above the ground, Ban grits and teeth and clicks his tongue as he grabs you as you guys start falling and takes the impact

You quickly got off of him and looked at him, tears almost in your eyes

“Oh my god! Ban! Ban I’m so sorry I didn’t mean for you to take the impact! Ban!! Ban-“ you frantically said to the man on the ground who’s eyes were closed

“If you keep calling my name out like that it’d be plain bullying if I didn’t wake up” he groans as he slowly sits up and you quickly hug him to which he chuckles and embraces you back

“Alright let’s try again” he says and your eyes widen slightly

“But ban-“ you begin and he just looks at you with his normal goofy smile you can never turn down, you sigh, deeply may I add and look at him

“Okay..I trust you” you say and he grins even wider as he grabs your hand and stands up as you guys started running towards the tree

The same thing happened a few times, it hurt, a lot but Ban never let you get too injured, always taking the impact of the fall even if you tried to fight with his grip in the air

The last time you guys got up there Ban grabbed his weapon and your eyes widen slightly thinking he was gonna attack the little girl

But he manipulated his staff and instead grabbed the cub with his weapon, You gasped as you two got quickly bounded by trees and the girl took the cup from Bans hand

The girl stands in front of you guys seemingly doing something then she lets us both go, Ban started explaining why you guys wanted immortality and those of such, You didn’t expect him to tell her his whole life’s story but

“Well shes too strong Y/n, let’s just go back” he says smiling at you as he holds out his hand, you smile lightly and nod as you grab it and you both head back down the tree

You guys were camping near the tree those days you were climbing it, you decided you’d stay another week since the fairy kings forest is actually quite pretty and you wanted to explore a bit before leaving since this opportunity may never come again

One night as you laid asleep in your sleeping bag you felt moving, you opened your eyes groggily to see your boyfriend quietly leaving the tent, you thought nothing of it, maybe he was going to pee or he was extra hungry or there was something dangerous nearby

Ignoring it you let yourself fall back into a deep slumber

But as the days and nights continued he kept sneaking out, you started getting suspicious so on the 4th night he snuck out you waited a little bit pretending you were sleeping and after a few minutes you slowly crept out of the tent

You looked around whispering your boyfriends name, this could be a huge misunderstanding after all

You went all around the forest and no sight of Ban

You went back to the tent and looked in, maybe you missed him?? But nope he wasn’t in there

You finally stopped in front of the tree and looked up, remembering the girl that resided there, logically speaking she was older then both of us since fairy’s live longer

“He didn’t” you whisper, you didn’t want to think, no you absolutely were wrong, must be seeing the wrong picture

Your boyfriend of years and hardships is not sneaking out at night to meet up with another girl, no it sounds absurd even thinking about it

‘I’ll just climb and check and I’ll be wrong, I’ll take the wind blow’ you think nodding your head reassuring yourself

You start climbing up the tree as quietly as possible, when you finally made it up and peaked up your mouth fell agape as you saw Ban and the girl chatting and laughing, all close

It surprised you so much that you lost grip on the tree and fell back, you rolled down the tree as if it was a hill, your limbs flying to and fro as you finally hit the bottom

You groaned quietly in pain

“What was that?” Ban says as he stops his conversation with Elaine hearing a soft thump

Elaine looks to the side

“ I didn’t hear anything?” She says and Ban shrugs as they continue to talk

You on the other hand shakily get up as you look at yourself, your arm was bleeding but you don’t know from where, your left ankle was sprained for sure, and your back was killing you it probably had a horrible bruise forming

A tear slipped out as you limped to the tent, you sat down as you grabbed bandages and started cleaning your wounds, the blood was coming from a gash just below your shoulder, probably from a sharp branch

You put a stick in your mouth as you took a deep breath, you grabbed some of Bans alcohol and poured it over the cut, you bit down harshly on the stick but no scream made it through, tears can’t say the same though

You spit out the stick as you breathed hard, every breath of air seeming like you haven’t had oxygen for a while, you take a bandage and wrap it around your arm securely

Usually you would make herbs for wounds and etc, but your hands were shaky, mind a daze and eyes blurry from tears

You wrapped up your sprained ankle and just let your back be in pain because there wasn’t much you could do about the pain back there

You sat silently in the tent waiting for your boyfriend to arrive, he did not arrive till the morning, about an hour and a half before you would usually wake up

When he opened the tent and saw you staring blankly at his empty sleeping bag he went to you and was about to touch your shoulder to ask you what was wrong but you jerked back

He was surprised as you looked at him, your eyes puffy, a huge sign you were crying

“Y/n what-“

“Where were you last night Ban?” You ask and he goes silent

“No in fact where were you the past 4 nights??” You ask and he sighs

“Y/n I just went out to explore and hunt, the foods not gonna come to us-“

You scoff, tears forming up, if he’s lying then is it true that he..

“You’re lying Ban, you’re lying to me” you grit out and he looks at you a little confused but mostly surprised

“What?”

“You were up there in that tree with that girl..” you say dangerously quiet and he sighs his head falling as he realizes he’s been caught and it looks totally wrong too

“Y/n..” he begins and you shake your head

“No no dont Y/n me, why did you lie and why were you sneaking out?!” You shout

“Y/n we were just talking I swear, I lied because I didn’t know how you would react-“

“HOW I WOULD REACT? HOW WOULD YOU REACT IF I WAS SNEAKING OFF LATE AT NIGHT AND MEETING UP WITH SOME GUY BAN?? HUH??!” You ask pushing him back but you wince as the wound near your shoulder moves

Ban notices this then notices the bandage on your arm and ankle

“Y/n what happened?” He asks quickly as he pulls your ankle into his palm to examine it, but you pull it back quickly

“You’re not even answering me, I-I can’t believe this, I can’t.” You say as you lay down in your sleeping bag, you were extremely tired from staying up the whole night already

You laid on the opposite side you usually lay on because of the wound on your other shoulder and thankfully it was the side not facing Ban

You guys didn’t speak for the whole day and when night came you woke up only to see Ban gone

“Y-You’re kidding” you whisper, you quickly get out, you run to the tree as you go up the route you began to remember with your mind at this point

You climbed up skillfully fast ignoring the roaring pain in both your ankle and shoulder, you peaked up and not to your surprise you see Ban and Elaine speaking under the oh so romantic fairy lights

With no sound you climbed back down, you walked to your tent and went in, grabbing your bag you grabbed your herbs, bandages, clothes and canned foods, leaving some for Ban even in your mood

You rolled up your sleeping bag and dig the dirt under as you grabbed your bag of coins, you and Ban always hid your money in case of any intruders, you guys were bandits after all

You take your money and put it in your bag as you get out the tent and leave

Ban returned back in the morning, he had asked Elaine what he should do to fix things and what a girl usually would like in this type of situation, you guys had never fought so bad to the point you didn’t speak the whole entire day

He was scared you were actually done with him, he had a few picked flowers in his hand and he took a deep breath as he opened the tent

But his eyes widen when he sees your stuff gone and your sleeping bag rolled up, he drops the flowers as he looks around frantically

“Y/N?? Y/N WHERE ARE YOU?!” He yelled, he ran everywhere around the forest looking for you, but you were no where in sight

By the time night fell he still couldn’t find you and it felt like his whole world was collapsing in front of him, he couldn’t think and he couldn’t even yell anymore bc he was sure he lost his voice by how loud and long he was screaming your name

He quickly wiped a tear that rolled down his cheek as he quickly climbed the tree, Elaine looked over at him worriedly

“You didn’t come at our usual time I was worried” she said and looks away blushing slightly

“She left Elaine! She left and I can’t find her anywhere” he says as he falls onto his knees and the tears finally come out

“She left me Elaine I-“ he says hoarsely

Elaine frowns sadly as she goes over and hugs him

“Well Ban...maybe she wasn’t the right one..there’s other people who can make you happy” she says

“Her injuries, she had bandages on her right arm and an injury on her ankle as well! She can get really hurt out there I have to find her” he cried

“Ban she left you, maybe it’s time to move on” Elaine says hintfully and lets go of Ban as she flies to the cup, she gives it to Ban and smiles at him

“Really?” He asks and she nods blushing a bit, he drank it slowly and when Elaine wasn’t looking he poured some inside of a glass bottle

“Ban I like-“ Elaine begins but Ban gets up

“I’m sorry Elaine I think this is the last time you’ll be seeing me, I checked every inch of the forest last night so that means Y/n has left the forest, I’m gonna be leaving as soon as I make it to the tent and get my stuff” he says to the girl who’s face falls in despair

“W-What wait but Ban she-“ she began

“She left? She had a good reason, if I was in her position I’d be upset too I can’t blame her” he says running a hand through his hair

“B-BUT SHE-SHE” Elaine tries to plead but stops when she sees Ban smile at her

“No matter what she did or does, she’s the only one my heart races for, in life or in death Y/n is my one true love so...wherever she goes I’ll chase her” he says and with that he jumps off the tree

Elaine falls to her knees as she watches the spot Ban once stood in, her head falling down as tears fell on to the tree

Ban had gotten to the tent and began packing all his stuff he got his money bag from under his sleeping , though he wonders where you hid yours and leaves

He travels for towns and towns looking for you, he had finally found you but much to his dismay you got captured since you were injured and were in a pretty tight situation as you were on death row

He watched as you and other prison mates were in a yard just doing your own things, you were laying on a bench staring at the sky

“Pssst”

You look up quickly and look around not seeing anyone, you were about to lay back down

“Pssst Y/n!”

You look around again noticing the familiar voice

“I must be going crazy” you mutter as you hold your forehead

“You’re not! Look over here!”

You slowly look to the side of the fence you were near and your eyes slowly landed on a bush, soon blue hair popped up from behind the bush and Ban gave you that grin of his

“Ban!” You say, a smile on your face, but you quickly replace it by a scowl and look away from him

He smiles slightly at that

“Y/n come on look at me” he whispers and you begrudgingly look over at him and he smiles, causing you to get flustered and your scowl to shake trying not to smile

“What are you doing here, you better hurry up and escape before they catch you too” you whisper not looking at him, instead watching the guards

He laughs

“As if I would leave you in a jail cell, come on let’s go” he says and you look at him stupidly

“Let’s go? No thanks death row isn’t that bad” you say coldly and he sighs

“Fine, guess we have to do this the hard way” he says shrugging

“HEY GUARDS” He shouts and your eyes widen as you sit up and block him with your body as the guards and inmates look at you

“UHH YEAH GUARDS, UHM YOUR ZIPPERS DOWN” you say and cringe deeply when the guards both look down and one coughs as he zips up his zipper, the inmates laughing

When everything died down you looked at Ban deadly

“Are you crazy?” You whisper

“Crazy for you”

Your mouth closes as you try to not blush but it’s inevitable as your brows unfurrow and a small smile takes over

“There’s that smile I love” he says and you roll your eyes as you huff slightly

“You better explain, I’m not giving you another chance so don’t you lie to me” you say and he nods quickly like a dog, you can basically see the tail behind him wagging

“Now step back babe, you’re boyfriends here to save you” he says smugly and you roll your eyes as you back up

He takes out his staff and in a swift motion breaks the fence, the guards all look over

“HEY” one shouts and you gasp as Ban quickly scoops you up and starts running

“It’s okay! I’ll take this bandit off your hands!” He shouts amused as he runs, he runs into a forest and does many turns eventually losing the guards who had to return back before any other inmates escaped

He puts you down lightly and you cross your arms to which he snorts

“I can run you know” you say and he shakes his head as he leans down and takes out a jar of green stuff

“They’re not as good as yours but they should do” he says and he gently takes your leg as he pulls up the inmate suit and sees your swollen ankle

“Tch stupid guards didn’t even treat it” he mutters as he takes some of the green cream and slowly and gently rubs it over your ankle

You can’t lie this felt really good but

“The first night I went up to try to plead for the youth drink” he says and you look at him

“The second night I went up to try and bribe for the youth drink”

“The third night I spoke to her, I tried to get to know her so she can see we have no bad intentions but one night wasn’t enough”

“The 4th night she had decent trust in me, so we continued talking”

He sighed as he started wrapping the bandage around your ankle softly, you don’t think you’ve ever seen Ban this gentle

“And the 5th night?” You ask and he looks to the side, you noticed a slight blush

“The 5th night I asked advice on what I should do to make you forgive me..” he mutters and your mouth falls agape slightly, it slowly forms into a small smile

“I’m sorry for not letting you explain..” you say and he shakes his head

“No, I can see how this looked from your perspective” he says as he rolls up your sleeves and switches the old bloodied bandages on your arm

You chuckle softly

“So I guess we can’t be together forever” you say sighing and as he rubs the herb cream on your bruised back he raises his eyebrow and pulls out a glass bottle with pink liquid

“Sorry but you’re not escaping me so easily” he says and you gasp as you grab the bottle and look at it

“This is really it??” You say looking back at him and he nods proudly

You slowly open it and drink it, but you didn’t feel that different

“Did it work?” You ask and he shrugs to which you deadpan

That day you both held hand as you jumped off a cliff, when you landed you guys sat up as you laughed and high fived, it worked

After a few months both you and Ban were caught purposely cause life began to get boring, you both sat in the same cell, after 33 executions you both are still alive in confinement

“I win” you say as you cross an all three X’s on the tic tac toe you made on the dirt in the ground

“You’re cheating” Ban replies and you laugh

Soon the door blows open and you two looked over to see a short man with blonde hair, you both smiled as Meliodas smiled back at you two

“Glad to see you two are still lovebirds”

559 notes · View notes

seijorhi · 4 years ago

Text

nostos.

well it’s not exactly monster fucking but um... here there be monsters.

Kuroo Tetsurou x female reader

TW implied non-con, nsfw-ish, blood, gore, minor character death, animal death, um somebody gets munched...

Every good writer needs peace and quiet. Fresh air and a change of scenery.

You’re not running away, it’s more of a… tactical retreat. Two weeks disconnected from well meaning friends, pushy family members and your eternally irritating editor, with nothing but the beautiful, sprawling forests to keep you company.

The mountains are familiar, if isolating, you think, leaning against the porch railing with a warm mug in hand as the breeze picks up and the tall maple and birch trees rustle in response. The leaves are turning vibrant reds and gold with the falling temperatures and even in the eerie quiet of the cold morning, you can’t deny that it’s breathtaking.

It reminds you of your childhood, the countless vacations you’d spent here with your family, always in autumn, always in time to watch the leaves change before the first snows of winter set in. Fond memories of running through the trees chasing after cute little bunnies, giggling even when you tripped up and scraped your knees. There was something mystical about the forest back then, something special. But it’s been years since you’ve been here last, and the first time you’ve ever come alone.

And yet it feels different somehow, colder despite the nostalgia. You’re no longer a child, looking at the world through innocent, wondrous eyes. The forest is just a forest.

Of course, you weren’t an idiot; disappearing off the grid was one thing. Disappearing off the grid without anybody knowing where you were going was another entirely. They’d been surprisingly supportive of the plan – until you told them where it was you were planning on running off to.

‘Why go back to the mountain, honey?’ your mother had asked, her smile wavering and an odd tightness in her eyes. ‘Why not go to the coast instead? Or spend some time in the city?’

But this isn’t a fun little vacation. You don’t want to be distracted by beaches and crowds, you need space to finish your book and time to work through your mess of an emotional state without any interruptions. You want to be untraceable, at least for a week or two.

God knows the last thing you need right now is your ex tracking you down to try and apologise again.

Part of you had thought – somewhat naively, perhaps – that by coming back you’d spark… something. Your memories of the mountains are full of warmth and happiness, but as you stare out into the wilderness, all you feel is a cool chill that runs down your spine and the goosebumps that prickle at your skin.

Setting your now empty mug down, you pull tighter at the thick knit cardigan draped over your shoulders. Enough reminiscing, your manuscript awaits.

—

The mountain’s too quiet. You don’t notice it so much during the day, the sound of music softly pouring from your laptop and the gentle clacking of keys as you type enough to distract you from the eerie stillness outside the cabin. Even at night, you’re preoccupied with dinner, and then curled up on the couch with a warm throw rug watching reruns of your favourite shows on Netflix.

It’s only when you lie down, burrowed into the blankets to try and sleep that you notice just how silent the forest at your doorstep truly is. At first you think it’s simply being away from the hustle and bustle of home. There’s no cars driving past, or the sound of neighbours floating through your open windows, there’s not even the distant hooting of owls or dogs barking.

But it’s more than just quiet. There’s nothing. Even the trees seem to still once the sun falls beneath the horizon. And it shouldn't bother you, shouldn’t unsettle you, and yet…

The first few nights, you don’t sleep well. Tossing and turning in bed. When you do sleep, your dreams are plagued with unpleasant things. Not nightmares as such, but an uneasiness that bleeds into otherwise pleasant thoughts. On the fourth night you wake, gasping for air. Whatever dream you’d been in the grips of fades like smoke, and as you draw in another shuddering breath your throat itches and burns.

Water. You need water.

You don’t switch on the lights as you fumble your way down to the kitchen, trying to preserve what little remnants of sleep are still in your system. Even with the moon almost full and the night sky clear, the canopy shrouds it.

And it’s in that darkness, as your eyes flicker up from the faucet, that you see it for the first time.

A shape, huge and looming, silk shadow against black.

For a moment, as your heart hammers against your ribs, a chill creeping down your spine, you don’t dare trust your eyes. Maybe you’re asleep still, dreaming, or your mind’s playing tricks on you, because there’s nothing that should be lurking in the woods outside of your window that size.

Two golden, cat-like eyes peer back at you.

They’re still there when you race to flick on the lights, unblinking, curious as you skitter backwards, hand over your racing heart.

You’re tired, emotionally drained and this–

This is nothing more than a figment of an overactive imagination, a child creating monsters from the shadows in their bedroom. Yet even as you run back to the safety of the bedroom, yank the curtains shut and huddle under the meagre warmth your blankets afford you, squeezing your eyes shut, you feel it out there still, watching.

And in the stillness of the mountains outside, you swear you hear footsteps.

—

You wake to fresh snow, too early in the year, even at these altitudes. It dusts the ground, covering the mossy paths in glittering white, clings to the branches of the trees – the red leaves looking like droplets of blood scattered across a grey sky. The snow will undoubtedly melt as the sun rises, turn to slush and mix with the dirt, but for now it’s a thing of beauty.

For a moment, you allow yourself to forget how tired you are, how unsettled, venturing out from the cabin with wide, excitable eyes. It never used to snow when you were here as a kid, and while you get the occasional snowfall back home, it’s nothing like–

You stop dead in your tracks.

There’s two human footprints imprinted on the snow – only two – right outside your bedroom window, crisp and clean, as if they’d been left just moments before.

—

Your mother sounds worried when you call her. Of course, you don’t tell her about the lone footprints at your window, or the creepy pair of eyes you’d seen through the dark, you know how that sounds. You’re not crazy, and even if some part of you truly believed what you’d seen, your mom is the last person you’d admit it to.

Once upon a time, when you were little, she’d indulged in stories of fairies and spirits, but that was a long time ago. Now she turns up her nose and sneers at the myths and legends that your grandma still spouts, dismissing them with a scoff.

It’s not the kind of thing well-adjusted adults talk about in polite conversation.

She’s a good woman, but you can’t tell her this.

And you’re not even sure you’re entirely sold on it either. The eyes could have been from a wild animal – big cats might be rare in Japan, but they do exist here. You were half asleep (half terrified) when you had seen them, you don’t want to make a fuss over nothing. The footprints are less easy to explain away. If there’d been tracks leading away, you could convince yourself that it was a lost hiker and nothing more.

But there weren’t any tracks leading away; just the two footprints. And what kind of hiker doesn’t wear shoes in weather like this? It’s possible that this is some kind of prank, a mean spirited trick designed to unsettle you – a job well done, by the way – but you can’t quite bring yourself to believe that either.

In any case, you’re hardly going to admit over the phone that you’re freaking out over some footprints in the snow. God knows she’s already worried enough about your mental state, has been ever since the breakup, and you’re not going to give her any more ammunition.

But perhaps there is something to that maternal instinct, because despite your best efforts to reassure her that you’re doing just fine, that your novel’s going great and you’re so glad you came out here, she still sounds entirely unconvinced.

“Honey, you know you can tell me if something’s wrong,” she tells you, her voice strangely hesitant. “You don’t sound yourself, are you sure everything’s okay?”

You don’t know why you called her at all. You always have been a shitty liar, and she’s always been able to see right through you.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Honestly the fresh air’s doing me good,” you tell her. “It’s weirdly quiet here though, I’m not used to it,” you laugh, and even to your ears it sounds hollow and fake.

There’s a heavy pause on the other end of the line, and if you close your eyes you can almost picture it, your mom leaning against the kitchen counter, teeth worrying into her bottom lip–

“I just don’t like you out there all by yourself.”

Relax, what’s the worst that could happen?

The words almost, almost slip out, an instinctive reaction to a mother’s well meaning but overbearing concern. But it feels like tempting fate, and whether or not you’re fully convinced that there is something strange happening, you’re not that bold. Instead you begin to tell her (again) that everything’s fine when she suddenly speaks again.

“Bad things happen in those mountains. Just… just promise me you’ll be safe.”

Abruptly, the line goes dead.

Pulling the phone from your ear, you glance down at the illuminated screen, only to frown when you see the little ‘SOS Only’ flashing in the top corner. Huh, you’d had a few bars when you’d started the call, but…

The weather’s gotta be messing with your signal. Stranger things have happened, right?

Shaking your head you resolve to give her a call tomorrow. And yet, even as you try to put her parting words from your mind and throw yourself back into your writing, you can’t help but feel that familiar sense of cloying unease seeping through your skin once more.

What the hell had she meant, ‘bad things happen in those mountains’?

—

A good night’s sleep can do you wonders.

Well, theoretically speaking. You can’t remember the last actual decent sleep you’d had, but regardless, the point stands. All you need is an uninterrupted eight or nine hours, and this… paranoia will go away. Things’ll be clearer in the morning, so long as you sleep.

The mantra doesn’t help you any, of course.

You don’t need to peer through the window to feel those watchful eyes staring. And maybe it would be easier to ignore the prickling sensation at the nape of your neck if it weren’t for the noises.

Music isn’t loud enough to drown out the sound of the mournful wails, like a wounded animal crying out in pain. It’s incessant, inescapable, reverberating inside of your eardrums until it’s all you can focus on.

It’s instinctual, you think, the urge to creep from your bed and try to find the creature making that sound and help it. But even as your feet touch the cool floorboards, your gut clenches, hackles rising. Something deep inside of you warns you from leaving the safety of the cabin.

Whatever creature is making those noises, it’s not calling for help.

You don’t feel like you’ve slept at all, but you must have because at a certain point in the morning you blink your eyes awake, exhaustion clinging to you like a second skin.

And this time it’s not snow that greets you, but the mangled remains of a doe ripped apart on your porch. Deep, jagged gouge marks run along its flank, organs spilling from the cuts and there’s little left of its neck, the whole thing torn out with teeth. Yet for the gruesome injuries, the only blood you find is congealed, pooled beneath the poor creature.

Whatever happened to it, it didn’t happen here. The knowledge doesn’t soothe you like it should – the park ranger you spoke to on the phone mentioned that while it’s rare, sometimes bears venture a little too close to buildings, though he sounds doubtful even as he says it.

He sounds even less interested when you tell him this doesn’t look like a bear attack, but promises they’ll send someone down in the next few days to check everything out. In the meantime, he suggests, it’s best to stay indoors.

Yeah, not gonna be an issue.

And so with no feasible way of moving it, you’re left with the butchered corpse of a doe just outside your front door. And the thing that bothers you isn’t so much the body, though you still can’t look at it without wanting to throw up, but the fact that it was just… left there.

Not eaten. No, aside from the missing throat, the deer’s all there. Ripped apart with its guts spilling out, but otherwise untouched. Growing up you had a cat, the sweetest little thing, but every once in a while she would get out of a night, find some poor little creature to torment and without fail, she’d bring it back home, leaving it half dead on the doorstep like a gift.

‘See what a good hunter I am?’ she seemed to say, smugly sauntering back inside.

It wasn’t about food. It wasn’t hunger that drove her, but instinct. As you stare out the window at the doe, at the milky white emptiness of dead eyes, you wonder whether that’s the same here. There’s no tracks in the dirt, no blood smeared across the ground – it wasn’t dragged here. No animal could’ve done this.

A gift?

Or perhaps something less benevolent. A threat. You’ve crossed into territory you don’t belong and the deer, cruelly ripped apart and left to bleed out on your doorstep is a line in the sand.

Either way, as tears fill your eyes, a sob tugging free from your chest, you realise that it was a mistake to come here. You don’t know whether you trust your eyes and your ears anymore, but there is something deep inside of you that tolls like a warning bell and as much as you’d like to bury your head in the sand and pretend there’s nothing wrong here, you can’t.

Bad things happen in those mountains.

You need to leave.

The next ferry to the mainland doesn’t leave until tomorrow morning, but it’ll have to do. Once you stop shaking and calm down enough to carry a conversation, you call the local cab company to arrange a pick-up first thing.

You can survive one more night, you just need to throw yourself back into your writing… if you can only just ignore that sense of foreboding prickling at the back of your neck.

—

There’s a boy running through the trees, giggling as he glances back at you. His hand’s outstretched, wrapped ‘round yours tugging you along as he laughs at you to hurry up.

It’s late, the sun dipping below the horizon, but you don’t wanna go back just yet.

You’re having fun, playing in the forest. And the light is golden, filtering in through the pretty red leaves, your sides burn a little from all the chasing and laughter but it’s a good kind of ache. You don’t want today to end.

His name is Kohsuke, you remember, and he lives down in the village by the valley. He’s only one year older than you, and you’d follow him anywhere.

You think you might be a little in love with him.

‘C’mon, hurry up! It’s only a little further!’ he calls, and you nod, scrambling over the fallen trunk of an oak tree. There’s old spirits who live in this forest, he’d told you, and today you’re finally gonna see one.

It’s dark now. Cold too. You’re tired and hungry and you kinda want to go home, but Kohsuke won’t let you. ‘Just a little longer! Don’t you wanna see them?’

You do. Of course you do. It’s just that you’re starting to get a funny feeling in your stomach… Can he hear the footsteps too? Is somebody following you?

There’s a voice in your ear, a soft, silky purr that makes a shiver roll down your spine, but you can’t make sense of the words, they’re not in any language you understand. You don’t tell Kohsuke – he can’t hear it, otherwise he would have said something. You just clutch his hand tighter, skipping closer.

‘W-we should go back, Koh,’ you murmur, wincing when it comes out in a childish whine. ‘We’re gonna get in trouble.’

You aren’t supposed to stay out playing after dark, he knows it as well as you do. ‘You trust me, don’t you? Stop being such a chicken!’ he snickers as your cheeks heat.

The voice at your ear growls, low and threatening. You need to go back, now.

You blink, and the scene changes.

You’re curled up on the forest floor, hands covering your eyes. Somebody’s screaming – Kohsuke – crying out your name through ragged sobs, pleading–

There’s a crunch, a ripping sound, a wetness sprayed across your cheek.

Kohsuke’s not screaming anymore.

Something warm and heavy touches your head, drags through the locks of your hair and you just huddle tighter, eyes squeezed shut, shaking like a leaf as more tears spill. You don’t wanna die here.

The crunching sounds continue, and you keep your eyes tightly shut. It can’t hurt you if you don’t look.

It can’t hurt you if you don’t look.

It can’t–

A loud knocking jerks you back to consciousness, your body jolting upright, almost swiping your laptop off the table as you try and gather your bearings. Right, you’d been working on your novel, sitting up at the kitchen table, you must have dozed off… A quick glance out the window tells you that you must have been out of it for a while – the late afternoon shadows are starting to creep in, the sky a golden orange.

What the hell was that dream?!

“Hello? Uh, anybody home?” a masculine voice calls, another loud knock sounding. “We got a call about a wild animal attacking deer…”

Oh, you think, trying to shake yourself out of your stupor, the wildlife people, yeah. You feel a little nauseous, feverish and trembling, though maybe that’s just the result of your erratic heartbeat.

Swallowing down the bile in your throat, you turn your attention to the door. Truly you hadn’t actually expected that they’d send anybody out to investigate, much less that they’d arrive before you left, but you can hardly turn him away now.

Especially not when there’s a freshly butchered deer corpse lying only a few feet away from your front door. Quickly, you run a hand over your hair, taking a moment to try and collect yourself before you answer.

It doesn’t work – there’s a knot in your throat and for every step you take towards the door it feels like your legs are gonna give out from under you. You move in a daze to unlock the door, only just remembering to school your features into an expression slightly less alarming as it swings open.

A ranger, tall with a shock of black, messy hair that reminds you oddly of a rooster greets you with an easy grin. “Oh good, I was starting to think nobody was home. You the one that called?”

Distantly, you nod, fingers clutching at the edge of the doorframe. The ranger glances over at the remains of the deer, still lying in a pool of half dried blood, studying it for a moment, hazel eyes sweeping over the deep gashes in its side. You can’t bear to follow his gaze, you’re not sure you can look at that thing again without throwing up.

He whistles lowly, shaking his head, “Well you don’t see that every day,” he laughs.

Your eyes snap to his, narrowing slightly. It’s not his fault, you know that, but you can’t help the flicker of irritation that sparks at the cavalier attitude. This is just his job, you get it, but you don’t exactly feel like laughing right now.

“You still think a bear did this?” you retort, the words coming out a little sharper than intended.

But the ranger takes it in stride, shrugging as his smirk widens. “A bear, huh?” Amusement glitters in his eyes, sharp and mocking. “Why don’t I come inside and you can tell me all about it?” he offers, stepping closer towards you.

And there’s no reason for your heart to skitter, your blood running cold as he looms over you in the doorway, still wearing that stupid, irritating smirk. There’s no reason for your insides to clench either, or for the tiny, jerky step backwards you take, your body moving of its own accord.

The ranger pauses, head tilting to the side as he stares at you.

Really stares, like he’s waiting for something. And as discomfited as you are (and as much of an asshole as this guy is), a weary apology is halfway to your tongue when he shifts slightly, propping an arm up against the door – the last, dying rays of light catching his face.

It’s just for a second.

A heartbeat.

But long enough for you to watch those hazel eyes shift to gold, pupils elongating into slits.

You stumble backwards, breath coming in a short, ragged gasp as your eyes widen into saucers. “What are you?”

The ranger before you chuckles and you catch a glimpse of his teeth; pearly white and glinting, sharper than they had been only moments ago. “Why don’t you let me in and find out for yourself, kitten?”

You shake your head, retreating further into the cabin, heart pounding.

“No? You don’t like this body, is that it?” he asks, a cruel edge to his smirk as he takes a half step backwards and slowly spreads his arms. “Something more familiar, then.”

And you don’t think there’s any room left in your heart for more fear, your stomach already twisting in sickening knots, but you blink and standing right there in front of you is Kohsuke.

It’s a punch in the guts, a knife slipped between your ribs, yanked ruthlessly through your still beating heart. He’s beaming up at you, those same adorable dimples, the same ridiculous bowl cut, bleeding youthful innocence. “How about now?” he asks, holding out his hand and wriggling his fingers like he expects you to take it. “You’ll let me inside now, right?”

A strangled noise escapes you as you fall to your knees. Tears fill your eyes, blurring your vision – you blink them away but more take their place.

“You trust me, don’t you?” he asks, and you wail in response.

It’s too much. You shake your head, hugging yourself tightly, as if your arms are the only thing keeping you from falling apart entirely.

He calls your name – not in Kohsuke’s childish lilt, but that deep, ancient purr that makes the tiny hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. “Let me in.”

“Go away,” you gasp through tears. “Please– please go away.”

The creature shifts again, the dark haired ranger back in Kohsuke’s place. He eyes you, those unnatural gold irises watching with utter enthralment as you sob pathetically on the floor, still pleading – though you know it’ll do you no good – for him to leave.

“Last chance, kitten. Let me in, or I’ll make you come out.”

He – it – doesn’t sound nearly as put out by the prospect as it should be.

And you don’t know why giving permission matters, all you know, all you care about, is that it’s keeping that thing at bay for now. It can’t come inside and so long as you don’t leave the safety of the cabin, it can’t hurt you. The words are nothing but an empty threat.

Right?

You shake your head, defiant even as your voice hitches and trembles, “No.”

“Stubborn little thing,” the creature croons, the smirk on its face widening until the visage no longer resembles anything human – mouth splitting its face in two, rows of long, sharp teeth revealed. “So be it.”

A low growl resonates in its chest, and you can only watch, petrified, as thin, vein-like black marks begin to appear over pale skin, growing thicker, cracking as shadow curls from underneath. The creature itself starts to grow too, limbs elongating as muscles ripple and swell, claws bursting forth in place of fingernails, shoulders broadening – until it’s towering over you, wreathed in thick shadow, grinning with that terrifying mouth.

This is the thing you’d glimpsed that first night. A creature ripped from nightmares and primal fears, strong enough to tear you apart with a single hand. That’s what it’d done to Kohsuke, to the doe, what it’d do to you if you gave it half a chance.

“You wanna play, kitten?” it asks, head tilting to the side.

Slowly, it backs away from the door, keeping its gaze fixed firmly on you. For a moment, you think that it’s going to disappear back into the forest, or plant itself by your window to watch for another night, waiting you out till dawn, but instead it stops by the old oak that overhangs the porch and stills entirely, simply… waiting.

“Let’s play.”

Abruptly, the oak beside it bursts into flames. It takes only a heartbeat for the entire thing to be engulfed, red and orange flames licking along the trunk, the gnarled, spindly branches, even the leaves are alight, burning away into ash and floating off in the breeze. The heat from one tree alone is searing, the crackle of burning wood and your own horrified, shuddering breath the only sounds in the night.

It snowed only a few nights before, but the fire spreads with unnatural ease, flames racing across the canopy, embers lighting up the undergrowth, and in the space of a few seconds there’s an inferno raging through the forest before you. And through the smoke and the red, burning haze, the creature watches, smirking.

The heat from the wildfire sears painfully at your skin, the air around you suddenly thick with smoke, stinging your eyes, choking your lungs, and yet you can’t seem to tear yourself away. It’s like a dream, a nightmare, some kind of… hellscape.

And for a moment you forget that there was a purpose to this, too lost staring in mute horror as the forest you’d played in as a child burns–

At least until a single leaf from the oak tree, edges curling as it’s consumed by flames, falls, carried by the breeze and lands on the wooden railing of the porch. With a soft whoosh, the old wooden beam catches fire, and with your chest heaving, panicked breaths falling from parted lips, you rise to your feet as flames spread, the fire eating everything in its path until the entire porch is alight, burning.

Run.

You don’t know if the voice in your head is yours or not, you don’t have time to care. You scramble for the back door, throwing it open, and you run.

Run until your lungs burn, til’ your bare feet are scratched and bleeding, run, pushed forward by the sweltering heat at your back, the chilling crackle of laughter that follows. You run through tears, through pain and air so thick with smoke that it hurts to breathe.

And you know the creature’s giving chase, you know that you won’t – can’t – outrun it, nor the inferno that blazes around you. You know that it’s futile, that you’re probably running to your death, but that’s human, isn’t it?

To run when you’re scared?

The sky’s awash with a hazy red glow when it catches you, throwing you to the ground, and still you try to crawl. Desperate, choking on broken pleas and sobs, nails raking through the dirt as you try to pull yourself forward.

And when your pants are ripped from your legs, a puff of warm air ghosting over the nape of your neck as you’re shoved back down, those long, black arms settling either side of you, caging you in – you know that you’ve lost.

“Mine,” the creature growls, and you barely have time to scream before its cock shoves into you with one brutal, merciless thrust. “Mine.”

#yandere haikyuu #yandere kuroo #yandere kuroo x reader #yandere kuroo tetsurou #yandere kuroo tetsurou x reader #monster fic #horror fic #tw noncon #tw: noncon #tw: blood #tw: gore #tw: minor character death #tw: animal death #i am sorry #except not really tho

629 notes · View notes

deluluass · 4 years ago

Text

Red, like blood. Blue, like love.

Content warnings: rape/noncon; nsfw; bullying; soulmates au

Prompt: 88 & 183

There’s someone for everyone, you’d learned growing up.

"Remember, blue means happy," your mother would say. "The happiest you'll ever be.”

She liked reminding you about this fact— for it is an indisputable truth, every so often when she could still carry you. You’d be hugged from the back, as she recounted stories of first meetings, serendipitous and life changing in their nature; belonging to those who’ve lived long before you, sometimes even those who’ve only lived in tales.

Mostly, your mother loved telling those involving the people she knew. And if you’ve behaved properly, she would tell you about hers.

Tracing your palm, starting from the forked lines to the dashed ones on your fingers, she’d say, “These would start to glow like stars.”

“That’s weird!” you’d burst out, shrieking a laughter as she tickled you.

“Listen carefully,” she chastised. “Blue is for your soulmate, okay?”

And you’d repeat: Blue is for my soulmate.

“Then, mama,” you tugged at her sleeves, “What if it’s really, really bright red! Like! Bloody glow sticks! Say, mama, you see, everyone at the park was talking about the man who died because he touched someone and his hand became bright re— ”

You never brought that up again. What your mother said about it had been enough to never make you forget.

“Tell me if you get red,” she said firmly, clutching your arms as if she feared someone would snatch you away from her. “Red is bad, my heart. Red means run.”

It hadn’t nearly been as gruesome as your mother made it out to be.

Case in point, when you turned twelve the couple three houses down your street found out, shortly after their honeymoon, that their palms gleamed a fierce red once they clasped each other’s hands in front of the neighborhood aunties.

Their marriage ended with a swift and ordinary divorce, a year or so later.

Red: Not just an ominous warning for homicide, then. That was a relief, you’d thought.

Contrary to how your mother framed it, you were thankful, actually. It helped some of your friends escape from potentially hellish relationships. How lucky is it that you lived in a reality where the universe seemed exceedingly benevolent. Though, you sometimes have to question if that generosity extended to everyone.

Fat lot of good it did for you.

Because, from where you’re standing, it doesn’t have to take some arbitrary and unsolvable scientific mystery to heed that Oikawa Tooru must be avoided like the plague.

Any person in your shoes would be conditioned to do exactly that.

You’d first met in Elementary. You thought he was the prettiest kid you’d ever seen, with chestnut curls and doe eyes and lashes that swept past his cheeks, and when you’d asked for a hand shake he’d called you “the ugliest girl I’ve ever seen” and “fart face.”

Recess and lunch were when he’s most fearsome. Spiky burdocks slapped on the collar of your dress; dead lizards in your food; the boy was determined. The worst part was that it always happened when no one was looking. And if someone were, it was his best friend. So when you finally told on him to your mom, both your teacher and the principal simply judged Oikawa as the victim of an attention deprived child.

“Please discipline your daughter,” they told her. “We are all aware of your situation at home, but do ensure that she’s not getting out of control.”

You couldn’t even muster up the strength to defend yourself. In that moment all you could do was swear that you’d never allow anyone to talk to your mother in that way again.

You moved out of that school.

You didn’t wait for your palms to flash a warning signal because, somehow, you knew that boys who discover early that they could get away with anything cannot get any better.

There’d been no way to be sure of that until Aoba Johsai— after a peaceful interim of no Oikawa; no red palm lines (and no blue ones, either).

The proof hit you in the face. Literally.

“Oi, Shittykawa!”

Heat permeated from your nostrils as you patted your cheek, detached and staring back at the large gymnasium.

“You hit someone!”

How unlucky did a person have to be to bleed right on the first day of classes?

You tried to lean forward. “It’s okay,” you slurred nasally, pinching your nose and averting your embarrassed gaze from the boy kneeling next to you.

“Trashykawa! You better hurry and apologize!”

“Don’t be mad, Iwa-chan,” that disgustingly saccharine voice came from behind you, making you flinch, as if the years you’d spent apart had done nothing to purge it out of your system.

In all honesty, you hadn’t really cared for whoever was responsible for the ball that careened all the way to where you were standing, so sure that it had to be an accident. No one in their right mind would want to injure someone they barely knew, especially if said someone is a couple of feet away from you.

Morally and athletically, it should’ve been improbable. But then you saw who did it and everything made perfect sense.

Iwa-chan. The boy beside you. Iwaizumi Hajime.

If he’s here, then—

“You,” he whispered.

“Eh?! Gosh, I’m so sorry!” Oikawa Tooru gasped. “You’re bleeding.”

Time is cruel. It wears down on you, tears you and molds you into something you can’t even recognize, if it decides to. (Fate, more so). You didn’t know if you wanted to cry or laugh, looking at him. If the universe were so benevolent, then perhaps Oikawa Tooru had received all of its favor.

He was beautiful. You’d known this before, but with all the baby fat replaced with sharp yet slender angles, figure lean and imposing even when he’d lowered himself to meet your eyes, Oikawa didn’t seem real.

“I did hit someone, didn’t I?” he pouted, wiping the dried blood atop your lip. “And such a pretty girl, too.”

That volleyball existed should’ve made life better for you. It didn’t. If anything, it seemed that out of the court, when he’s not taking names and being praised like a god, you were his little pastime. Something fun to take his mind off whatever it is he thinks about it.

The mocking comments, you could handle; every time you’d recite and he’ll interject with something playful and then the entire class would laugh (because he’s Oikawa) and your professor would reprimand him but you could always tell that they, too, are holding in a giggle.

Those were easy to bear, because although his insults hit way too close to home, it’s just— it’s just so petty.

Really, it’s the aftermath that does the damage.

“They’re like Christmas lights under your skin!”

This topic pops up every month or so. Most people your age can be lucky enough to meet their soulmate this early.

“And it’s the most awesome feeling in the world,” your classmate sighed. “When we touched hands? Man. We just- we glowed.”

Then, the others would poke fun, faking a gagged expression, but they’d always ask afterwards, “What happened next?” And everytime, you’d watch from the sidelines. Like an uninvited audience.

You tried being a part of it once, wanting to share about the time your close friend met her soulmate. But all you’d gotten were side eyes and titters, as if they were laughing about a joke only you didn’t know about.

“They’re so mean to you.”

You groaned.

Oikawa was seated behind you, resting his head against his elbow. Everyone was too busy talking about blue lights and destined souls to notice what’s happening at the back of the room.

He continued, “Not including you in conversations, treating you like an outsider.”

You didn’t bite, focusing on the opened book in front of you.

“Must be lonely, having no one.”

“Oikawa,” you muttered under your breath. “I don’t have the energy for this.”

The silence that came after that was unexpected. You were sure it would be short lived; he’s just gearing up for more. He usually went at it until you’d have no choice but to physically remove yourself from his presence. You’d thought once that that may be why he does this so much. Maybe he still thought you were the “ugliest girl” he’s ever met and he wants you out of his sight. Because Oikawa’s infantile like that.

But the silence stayed, accompanied by the background noise of eager conversations; lingering some more as white, fluffy clouds passed by the glass windows.

When he broke it, all Oikawa said was, “Soulmates, huh.”

You felt a finger touch your back, drawing the barest of lines over your uniform. He removed them just before you could stand up and leave.

You disliked those moments with him.

You disliked him especially when he played.

Oikawa’s a monster, be it in volleyball or with you. There are times, though, that you’d notice some things that you think you’re not meant to see. Like after a serve— its impact booming throughout the court, he’d have this puzzling expression on his face.

It looked like....anger.

He scored a point, right? Everyone’s cheering for him, aren’t they? Wait, didn’t they win?

You thought maybe it’s the adrenaline making him nastier than usual, but sometimes you’d pass by the gym when he happens to be alone. And that anger is still there, punctuated by the sound of the ball exploding against the floor. Jump. Hit. Spike. Jump. Hit. Spike. He’d do it, again and again and again.

As if he’s trying to grasp something even he cannot reach.

Those instances should’ve taught you that the best thing to do is look away.

That’s what you should’ve done. Look away.

They lost the Interhigh tournament.

You knew this not because you’d watched, but because for one day, Oikawa Tooru wasn’t your bully.

The derision was replaced by sulking. He didn’t speak for the entire period. The funniest thing about it was that everyone kept staring at you. Like somehow you’d been the cause of this, when all of them were lamenting the loss just as much as the team itself.

What was supposed to be a reason for celebration suddenly became a crime that you had to explain for.

“Great,” you grumbled to yourself. “One time I don’t have a target on my back, now I’m the bad guy.”

Trash bag in hand, the scraps inside rattled against each other as you stomped to the recycling bin, both sleeves of your P.E jacket folded up to the elbows. You affected a tone, choosing to mock the grating way some of classmates talked:

“Oh, hey, if it’s not too much,” you began. “Can you please be his punching bag again? If you will, can you relieve our superstar’s burdens? By, I don’t know, alluring him into walking all over you? Like the good old days! Please, oh please? We rely on you, oh Great Punching Bag! We Beseech thee, oh Esteemed Doormat! We compel— dude, what the fuck?!”

Crumpled papers and steel and tin cans rolled to the ground. You didn’t pick them up, like you should’ve; you left it there, trash bag lying open, and grabbed the ball that whisked mere inches from your face.

This time you’re not making the same mistake. The asshole is more than capable of suspending what little morals he has, just to hurt someone he barely knew. As well as athletically adept (an understatement, that) at hitting a walking target; or not hitting it, in this case.

You stormed the almost empty gym. Oikawa is a ray of sunshine, greeting you with that smile. It makes you want to punch him.

“What is wrong with you?” you spat.

He chuckled. “Whoops. Sorry!”

“I’m not having this-” you shoved the ball to his stomach. He didn’t even blink. “This isn’t gonna slide anymore, Oikawa.”

Wide grin still in place, he took it from your hands with his much larger ones and said, “Wow, you’re actually mad this time. ”

Then, he added, “I didn’t mean it! Honest!”

Must be nice, you thought with a scowl, to be him. Anyone can be sincere if they look anything like Oikawa.

“Sure. Fine. No, actually,” you glowered. “You know what?”

“Hm?” He tilted his head. Oikawa tilted his pretty little head.

You seethed. “I get it. You lost. That doesn’t mean you get to take it out on me. I mean, what did I ever do to you, Oikawa? I have-” you exhaled, surprised by the break in your voice.

“I haven’t done anything to you. We stopped being kids a long time ago. That shit you pull should’ve ended by now. We’ve grown.” You jabbed his chest. “But I see that maybe not all of us have.”

His pleased expression hadn’t dropped. “Ouch,” Oikawa grimaced, glancing amusedly at the place you’d touched. “How mean.”

This isn’t going anywhere.

You don’t know why it took you this long to realize this, as you shifted your gaze away from him, noticing the gashes on the floor that tear the surface like scars that never healed. That must’ve been because of him, with the amount of practice he does.

“It won’t be enough, won’t it, Oikawa?” you whispered. “Not for you.”

The smile that’s been there since you arrived tensed, straining at the corners of his lips.

“Yeah, I’ve been told,” he beamed.

He was bathing in his own sweat, seeping through his shirt and matting his hair to his face, and he looks— Oikawa looked tired. His eyes were sunken in, too. Did he even sleep?

You’re so used to seeing him not a hair out of place, with a sweet scent that you amusedly thought lures his gaggle of admirers into following him everywhere. It takes you aback, honestly. Particularly the wobble in his step as he bent and squeezed his knee with shaky fingers.

You don’t think he’s aware he’s doing it in front of you.

Then, just like that, everything seemed to have added up.

“You’ll never be happy,” you said.

You should’ve stopped there. You should’ve left. Instead, you looked him in those brown eyes, the warm hue becoming a lot colder as he moved closer.

Oikawa sneered. “And what do you know, huh?”

(Go. Leave.)

“Nothing,” you told him. “I don’t- I don’t know. Because, I don’t get it.”

(Shut up. Shut up.)

“Why you try any harder, I don’t know. Win or lose, it’s all the same. You’re still the same. You’re still awful and annoying and- and still you.” You laughed, unsure why you’re running your mouth like this.

“Win or lose. Oikawa is still Oikawa,” you breathed in. “Nothing more, nothing less.”

His teammates must’ve gone somewhere. For lunch, maybe, you thought as you eyed the abandoned bottles and used towels scattered around the court. “Besides,” you huffed, not without a twinge of envy. “They’ll all still love you, either way.”

Everything went still for a while, and you’d just realized what you’d just said.

“What about you?”

You looked back at him.

“What?”

He tipped his chin. You stepped backwards.

He brushed your wrist.

“Don’t touch me,” you hissed, but he only smiled and wrapped his entire hand around it.

Oikawa had been your first bully. Before you could even comprehend what that meant, Oikawa had been the source of your mother’s worries whenever she parted with you at the school gates. It is funny, thinking about it, for letting this boy affect you despite making an effort to stay away the first time.

But it is only now— now that he has a firm hold on you, gentle yet smothering— that you truly feared Oikawa Tooru.

It rattled your breath, squeezing your heart and refusing air to pass through your lungs, as you felt a shock zap through you. And apparently through him as well.

You broke away from each out with a cry.

Your hand was burning. That’s the only explanation for it. Your hand was burning and any moment now smoke will diffuse from the pores.

You waited. Any moment now. But the more you stared at it the more tiny spots of flames sparked under your skin, bursting along the palm lines— first, the forked ones; then, the dashed lines— glaring back at you, glowing brighter, blotting and spreading until they mapped your palms then your entire hands like constellations.

“Red is bad, my heart,” your mother said. “Red means run.”

“I knew it,” you scoffed, shaking your head.

Well, it’s not as if this is news to you.

“What about that, Oikawa?” You put both your radiating hands in the air. “The universe is telling us, you and I? We just don’t—”

Why are you crying?

Why is Oikawa crying?

“I knew it,” he croaked.

Your mother made the red light sound so horrifying for a reason.

There has to be a reason, too, why the universe is warning you so late into your life. You’d actually ran before. And when you thought it a waste of money, you chose to stay and not fight back; thinking that his punches have become less severe, degraded into verbal taunts that induce social exclusion at most; that, certainly, red doesn’t forbode something as bad as murder, right?

Well, what now? You were wrong, after all. This time you have a feeling that you actually need to hide.

Because Oikawa’s looking at you like you’re the last two people left in this Earth.

Just you and him. Without any need for anybody else.

You didn’t breathe, attempting to bolt despite the overwhelming need to throw up right where you're standing. He stepped closer, faster than you’d liked, and touched your face, caressing your cheek up to your aching temple.

“You should really stop trying to run away,” he said, voice low as if he’s sharing a secret. “I’ll always find you, you know?”

You didn’t have to look to know. Even if you closed your eyes, as well, you know it’s still going to be there; glowing in the darkness behind your eyelids.

“Me and you—” Oikawa sighed.

Listen carefully, your mother said.

“ —we have a connection that no one else will ever understand,” he said.

The light emitting from his hand was so harsh it hurt you, pricking your sight until it drew fat tears, reflecting against your damp face and tinting the fallen streaks with bright—

Blue means happy, she told you. The happiest you’ll ever be.

And you’d repeat: Blue. Blue is for—

“My soulmate," Oikawa said, before locking you in a deep, searing kiss.

The lights didn't die even as he dragged you into the storage room.

"Hey, where'd senpai go?"

The rest of the volleyball team came in droves, occupying the hollow court with their squeaking shoes and questions about Oikawa's whereabouts.

"Must've gone somewhere," you heard a deep voice say.

You could answer that question. All you had to do was scream. They weren't so far from the room that they wouldn't pick it up over the noise of their volleyball practice. Really, if you needed to, you could even outshout their guttural yells of "Nice kill!"

Though, you'd have to remove the underwear lodged in your mouth first.

Yours, in fact; soaked now by your own saliva, drool dripping to your chin as your wrists chafed against the rope that's keeping them tied at your back.

"Feels good, doesn't it?" You felt every sickening movement of Oikawa's lips against your throat. "Feels good when you- ah, fuck- when you give in."

With the cloth muting your shrill bawling, you tried your best to recall how you ended up here: seated on his lap as he sluggishly humped himself against you, his still glowing hands cupping your ass.

The only thing left on your body was your bra, and even that he's already lowered to let your tits spill over the top. Your pants and t-shirt and jacket are lying around somewhere. You couldn't determine where in particular; the only sources of light were behind you.

He was leaving imprints of blue all over your skin; around your waist as he slithered his hands to reach your breasts, scantily brushing over the hardened nipples and making you keel over.

"So sensitive," he tutted, smooching your neck so gently that even the underwear couldn't muffle your loud yelp when he suddenly bit into the flesh. Hard.

You wanted to claw his eyes out and call for help and you wanted badly to scream don't do that Oikawa someone please save me he's gonna kill me he's gonna kill me-

But the gag remained intact and the boys outside continued their game, ignorant that their precious captain is taking everything away from you.

Sharp canines bruised your skin, provoking a fresh batch of tears as he sucked and licked every after cruel bite.

Then, when you thought the worst had passed, he removed his mouth from your neck to spit onto your bare cunt, allowing it to slide from the hair on your mound to the nub sticking out in the middle.

(It is not enough that he is killing you. Oikawa must defile you, too.)

His fingers gripped the insides of your thighs open when you tried to shut them together. "Don't be a brat," he clicked his tongue.

"Be a nice little kitten for me," Oikawa drawled, smearing the slick that's soaking your folds against the spittle coating your clit.

You didn't notice when he'd taken his cock out, you only realize that he's about to enter you when he teased your entrance with it, pushing the tip to nudge the drenched hole, only to pull it back again.

And you didn't dare look. The feel of it almost stretching you out with just the head is already driving you to insipid begging.

"What'd you say, kitten?" he pouted.

Oikawa you've already taken too much is it never going to be enough Oikawa let me go.

"I can't understand you," he chuckled. "Here—"

He pulled the underwear out of your mouth as he thrust all the way inside, your back arching, driving him deeper, as his cock throbbed against your pussy walls.

"Now, what were you saying?"

You swallowed your cries and heaved and swore you were gonna tear his heart out after this.

"Say," he whispered, sniffing your wet panties without breaking his gaze. "If everyone saw us right now, how'd you think they'd react?"

It was so reverent, the way he did it, blue light revealing that he closed his eyes as he took a whiff, as if he hung onto your scent like a lifeline.

But you thought that'd been a calculated move, because as you dumbly stared at him, he immediately gyrated his hips under you, rocking back and forth ever so slowly, and you remembered that you had to keep quiet.

His cock was so big inside you, making you bite your lip as it filled you up, the curved tip hitting a spot that has you squirming in his embrace.

"At this point they'll know how much of a whore you are," he said, tangling his muscled arms around yours and anchoring you to his body. "Made just for me."

"Oika-Oikawa…"

You don't know this person.

"Help..me.."

You don't know who's speaking out and whimpering for Oikawa, on her knees and bouncing up and down on his lap with weak, quivering thighs.

It couldn't be you.

"Help you?" You felt him nuzzle your neck. "I thought you wanted me to stay away, though?"

Someone mewled out a pathetic, "N-no."

"No? Then what d'you want, kitten?"

(Oh. Oh, he feels so fucking good.)

Your belly has never felt this hot before and it's driving you crazy that you're chasing for something you cannot see and it feels so near but there's something, something that's keeping you from it that all you can do is grind your sopping cunt closer to him.

"Wanna- I wanna cum."

Oikawa kissed you on the forehead, and then he said, "Go ahead, then."

He released your arms.

Then, he's scooping cum off your pussy, making sure to drag his fingers under the lips, before circling your large, swelling clit. Then, he's sucking your tits and swirling his tongue around a nipple and you're so so close.

"That's it," Oikawa sighed. "Ride my cock, baby."

His rough palm slapped both your ass cheeks and the cry that erupted from you only made him laugh.

"Make yourself cum on my cock," he grunted, licking his smiling lips as he leaned back against the wall, hand idly rubbing your dripping clit. "You're making a mess, darling. Leaking like that."

You're quivering all over; your cunt is spasming and your legs are complaining beneath you, but you don't stop. You lift your hips and then sink your pussy down, down until you feel his balls touching your sore ass, the sloshing sound growing louder as you move faster.

You don't think about what this'll all mean later, what you're doing giving in to him, when you scream out his name. But as soon as you did, Oikawa's growl had been your only warning.

He grabbed the back of your head and kissed you, plunging his tongue into your throat, his strong arms pressing you so close to him you can no longer tell his skin from yours, his battering heartbeat from yours.

You didn't move—weren't allowed to, when he hammered his cock into you, pounding your cunt and fucking you raw until you're breathless and nothing but a shuddering wreck, splitting at the seams in his hands as you feel thick spurts of hot cum slide out of you.

"My pretty girl," came his hoarse whisper. "My pretty, pretty girl."

The lights have dimmed, when he cradled your shaking form and moved out of you, faint traces left on just the palm lines and fingertips.

They were flooded by the sudden brightness that enveloped the storage room.

"Holy shit."

You pressed your eyes close, your entire body prickling at Oikawa’s touch.

It shouldn't be surprising, at this point, that Oikawa, as quick as he'd stripped you off of everything, has already covered you back in your jacket. The smell of it striking you ruthlessly, that old cologne that you always use to school reminding you of who you were, before all this.

Had it only been a few hours? It felt like a lifetime ago.

"Ah," Oikawa murmured. "They caught us."

"Oikawa,” someone roared. Oikawa held you, hiding your face against his chest. “Why you son of a-"

"C-coach..! Stop- Oi, someone help me hold him- no, coach! "

You heard him chuckle. “Sorry about this, everyone.” He held up his hand and you had to keep yourself from sobbing. “But, look.”

There were several gasps.

(Everybody knows now.)

“You..and her?”

The boy who said that sounded so astonished, clearly overjoyed for some reason, that it revolted you.

“Mhm,” he nodded, a smile in his voice. “Now, can you guys please give us some privacy?”

Feet shuffled out of the room, along with stuttered apologies. They all left.

Except for one.

“Iwa-chan,” Oikawa pouted.

“What did you do, Oikawa?”

A beat. Then, he repeated, “Iwa-chan.”

Please.

Iwaizumi didn’t say anything.

Please help me.

“Sure,” he grunted.

He was gone, too, after that.

You were back in the darkness, with nothing but the faltering red and blue on your hands and his, while he untied your wrists and kneaded the abrasion away, cooing sweet nothings to your ear.

“I hate you,” you rasped.

“Don’t say that.”

“I fucking hate you-”

“Please stop yelling-”

“I won’t ever forgive you, Oikawa!”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he cried, shaking his head as he brushed your tear-stained cheeks with both thumbs. You clutched them, wanting him off you, but he only latched himself firmly into you. “We’re meant to be.”

“You’re the only one for me.”

Oikawa brought your numb hand to his face, pressing a kiss to your palm, the red light basking him in its soft glow.

“And I’m the only one for you,” he said, intertwining your fingers together.

The lights flickered in and out, at first, as you stared vacantly into it, the red and blue swallowing each other. Until they finally disappeared, leaving just you and him, curled against each other in the shadows.

#tw noncon #tw non con haikyuu #yandere oikawa #oikawa toru x reader #oikawa x female reader #dark content haikyuu #prompt

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nevess · 3 years ago

Text

— just asking;

🌱… description: your friendship with baji has always been amazing. Both of you being there for each-other when needed, trying to have fun and be kids, but one day, everything starts to crumble.

🍵 … warnings: swearing, probably heavy angst. Mention of death. if i missed anything plsss let me know! <3

🧳 … character/s: baji keisuke; ft. chifuyu

☕️ … word count: 3.2K ; | date: December 28th, 2021

a/n: i had this idea for a while now, but yesterday i started developing this wip. I hope you guys like it cause i did it with a lot of love. Feed back is always appreciated, but remember not to be disrespectful. :) Take care pretty humans! <3

“Who is your new friend?” Your aunt asks while looking at the boy you brought home. You panicked for a moment, realizing you didn't know his name. In a soft whisper you asked him and then replied to the older woman in front of you. “Keisuke Baji.” Seconds later you continued. “I found him bleeding under the monkey bars. He wasn't in a position to refuse my friendship.” You replied with a little sassy tone.

After your aunt looked at Baji’s scraped knee you proceeded to explain how you promised him some Kasutera, that way he could feel better. The beginning of a chaotic but wonderful friendship was there.

That's how you got to know the brunette that you know will always be for you in your ups and downs. The same one that right now was trying to hold a laugh and at the same time try to comfort you because the movie you both watched had a heartbreaking ending.

Baji was a special person. You knew this, that's why you proposed to have friendship bracelets. Made of leather, with some threads surrounded by small pieces of leather painted a lighter chocolate and a small pendant of a scorpion hanging from it, and this is because they represent the cycle of light and dark, kinda like the yin and yang. The clasp was stainless steel, so you wouldn't have to worry about it getting easily damaged.

On another occasion, you were having a sleep over at Kei’s house, at the moment helping his mom do breakfast. Baji came into the kitchen and you noticed something really interesting. “Are those your sleepers?” You commented playfully while holding the urge to break out a laugh. You could see his eyebrows go down, forming his iconic look.

“Ah?! What are you even talking about? They are obviously the last in today's technology, super comfortable battle shoes.” He said while taking one and showing it to you. Clearly trying to hide the fact that they were just cute little puffy cat sleepers. You were probably 9 years old at the time.

Now, a couple of years have passed since then. It was probably 7pm and you were at Keisuke’s house —like usual—, sitting across the room while looking him straight into the eye. He was looking back at you, no words were pronounced, just silence as all the information got digested by the both of you. You just found out what happened to Shinichiro-kun, Mikey's brother. He told you everything while trying to hold back the tears full of guilt, regret and grief.

You got up from your seat and went to hug your best friend. There was a possibility of him being sent to juvenile detention for breaking and entering, and being involved in an accidental murder. The one you saw as a big brother is now dead and who knows if Baji is going to be safe in juvie. And as selfish as you could get, all you could think about was not having him around. “Promise me you wont leave me…” You said after forcing him to stand while wrapping your arms around his torso, burying your face in the gap between his neck and shoulder.

“Don't say such sad things.” You felt one of his hands come up to your head to caress your hair while the other was bringing you closer to him. Both of you cry in silence while holding each other for a few moments until he speaks. "I promise to always be for you, to infinity and beyond."

The brunette moves his face away so he can see yours. His gaze traveled across your face as if he was trying to memorize how you look. You, on the other hand, were learning by heart the feeling of being with him. The only thing you could think about was the goodbye, the time he would be away. It was clear in his expression while forcing a smile, he was trying to be strong.

Now you are both thirteen. He became friends with Matsuno Chifuyu, a blonde with turquoise eyes. The three of you started to hang out, and right now you were at Chifuyu’s place with Baji, or more like the cheesecake in your hands, Chifuyu and Baji.

Your eyes went back to the plate in your hands while Keisuke burst into laughter for something the blond said. Chifuyu was really invested in believing he was a comedian, and all you could do about it was follow along. Apparently, Baji was the only one believing in the talents he possessed.

While eating the delicious cheesecake at hand and being immersed into the delightful taste it had —anyone would notice it was your favorite dessert— the brunette called your name. “Rude. How dare you interrupt my total concentration in this delicious piece?” Your comment was anything but serious, and they knew it.

“My apologies, your highness. As you already know, cheesecake is not an appropriate dish for breakfast.” Keisuke responded following your line. Chifuyu looked at both of you wanting to add a comment while giggling but you were faster.

“What do you mean it's not an ‘appropriate dish’. It fits the occasion. Plus, you know it makes me happy. Let me be.” You were totally offended at his reply. How dare he, of all people, tell you what an appropriate dish was. A pout formed your lips as you kept eating while he and Chifuyu now made it their life mission to convince you to stop. As soon as they started coming closer you stuffed as much cheesecake as you could in your mouth and runned for your life with the plate in your hands.

Months have passed since then, probably a year and you didn't even notice when the time passed by so fast. If you were honest with yourself you were mad, really mad at Baji for ignoring you for the last two weeks. You still helped him with his classes though. Leaving a copy of your notes at his house with a post-it that had a message saying things like “Here you go, kei. Remember to study for tomorrow's test” or “Today's class was easier, if you need help there are a few examples at the end. Ily <3.” Simple things to remind him you were still there.

You were done expecting him to just come back after this long, finally deciding to take action for your own and going straight to his house. As you knocked the anxiety started creeping in. ‘What the heck am I even nervus about? We didn't have a fight or have an argument. He just ghosted me out of nowhere. He should feel the wrath I'm about to set free.’ You thought to yourself.

It was true, even Matsuno started avoiding you since you saw him with an eye patch and band-aids all over his face. Something was up, but you didn't quite catch what it was.

Baji’s mom answered the door, welcoming you like if you were her daughter. She did tell you Keisuke wasn't home, he had gone out a couple of hours ago, but she didn't know exactly where. Something she added while talking to you was that he was with Mikey. Good, he is usually easy to locate, and perhaps he is with Draken; like always. After you were grateful and said your goodbyes you took your phone to call the tall guy with a dragon tattoo on the side of his head.

One bit after the other. Nothing. Fucking nothing. What the hell is happening to them and why aren't they answering?! A growl escapes your mouth as you start walking down the stairs. “If this is all a prank I swear to-” You were cut by your own thoughts. “Of course, I'll call Emma!” If you expect disappointment, you won't really ever be disappointed, right?

Surprisingly you werent. Emma answered in no time. A little rude of you not to greet her and cut straight to the chase, but your system was being invaded by feelings overwhelming you. “Do you know where Mikey is?” Emma could sense a little of how you were feeling just by the way the words came out of your mouth. Frustration and feeling powerless about the situation you were in, making you be a little irritated and insecure at the same time; you ignored those feelings and continued listening to her words.

‘Did I hear right? Why the fuck whould they be there?’ Was the first thing that came to your mind. “An abandoned car lot. Are you sure?” The blond girl said yes and then gave you a little more information on it. “Thank you so much. You don't know how much this helps!” Since you were in a hurry you cut Emma in the middle of her sentence, only being able to hear half the warning she wanted to give you. Sadly, you didn't pay attention, so the first thing you did was head to the Junkyard she talked about.

It took you a while to get there, you lost the bus, so you had to run there. Being completely exhausted and burned out, emotionally, mentaly and physically, wishing, almost begging the heavens you had your best friend's resistance right about now. A commotion was taking place in that abandoned lot where Emma told you they would be, a bunch of people with the same outfit were wandering and running from the Junkyard. Something that you weren't sure if it was the name of Mikey being screamed made you want to hurry up and see for yourself, making you even more confused about what was happening as you made your way to the big metal door.

The first thing you saw as you entered was Touman scared around the area. In the middle someone was on the floor while another person was standing at their feet. You could swear you would recognize that silhouette anywhere. “Baji?” You mumbled to yourself while trying to understand what was happening. You knew Tokyo Manji does their ceremonies and meetings at the Musashi temple, and this was definitely not it.

A sudden movement and some words that you were not able to hear due to the distance left you in shock for a few seconds. You caught what the black-haired man was about to do when you saw him raise both his hands, holding what seemed to be a blade. Until now, you noticed that he was covered in blood and without realizing it your eyes began to water. It all happened too fast. A heartrending scream left your throat, forming the name of your best friend. Some heads turned to watch, while the others were still stunned by the scene in front of them.

“Call an ambulance, someone!!” You screamed. Nobody dared to move, except you who were running towards him and someone else who was shouting his name. It wasn't until you were both winged on the body that you realized it was Chifuyu. The blond took him, placing his upper body in his lap, while you settled on one side of his body, sitting on your legs while you took one of his hands with despair and intertwined it with yours.

“Asshole! Why would you do this to yourself? Huh?!” You cried, almost a thread of voice being all that could be heard.

Keisuke's brows were furrowed. Both the blonde and you have a thousand questions and are trying to ask them all at once. Sure people wondered how the hell you got there or what the fuck you were doing there, but nobody was voicing them. Another blond with blue eyes approached you guys. Refusing to take your eyes off of Baji the boy was forced to speak. You recognized him as Takemichi.

“You shouldn't be here, Y/n.” Baji tries talking like he normally would, however ends up coughing up blood instead.

“I shouldn't be here?” You ask in disbelief.

“You ghosted me for two weeks and now you are at the verge of death. Don't you dare tell me where I should or should be right now.” Anger was very present in your tone, but the way you mumble the words was almost excruciating. Takemichi speaks again, asking the same questions you had, making it look like he could read your mind. In a few words Keisuke said what it looked like warnings and instructions about someone they should be aware of, and also mentioning Pah and the Touman. All you could do was see your best friend… the boy you loved, slowly but surely fade away.

It appeared it was finally your turn when he looked at you. Taking the hand you were holding in between both of yours and bringing it to your lips to leave a soft kiss there, you finally talk. “Please stay… That’s all I'm asking.” You whimpered. He looked at you in awe; definitely didn't seem like he was dying. His eyes are mesmerizing as ever, trapting you like they always did. Making you feel safe, but in this case you were still afraid.

“Thank you for playing along.” He murmurs. “Promise i won't break our oath” Your lip shakes while you try to hold the tears by his words.

“Of course you won't.”

This time his words were directed at Takemichi. “Pah-chin, Mitsuya, Draken, Mikey, Kazutora, Y/n… they are my greatest treasure.” His voice was trembling. You knew he had a hard time talking, but you weren't going to stop him... not when they could be his last. A smile on his lips, tears running down his cheeks.

"I wanted to solve everything by myself, but couldn’t…" Baji closes his eyes and begins to gasp for breath. Your chest felt shut, as if a force from within was pressing against it. You wanted to vomit and a knot formed in your stomach.

"I caused my death." Those four words ended up breaking you. You pressed your lips to prevent them from continuing to tremble as drops of thick tears wet your cheeks.

“Mikey no longer has a motive to kill Kazutora.” Your thump caressed his fingers softly while you cried in silence.

“I don't have much time… I’m starting to hallucinate.” He proceeds to say a few things to Takemichi while you keep looking at him, long deep breaths entering your nose and leaving it while trying to calm yourself. “Mikey and Touman rest in your hands.” Those are the last words he says to the blond that is now standing.

“Chifuyu…” His voice sounded like a reproach, probably because of the fact that we continued crying while he was smiling at us, not caring about the state he was in. "I would kill for some Yakisoba Peyoung ..."

“I’ll get it right away.” The blond’s voice changes, sounding a little more firm even though he was still hurting.

“We are going to share it, right?” He’s smile grew as he thanked his best friend.

His october eyes meet yours and it's like the world stopped moving and everyone around you stopped existing. “Y/n…” He was forcing himself too much, as a cough left his throat. “I have a request.”

“Yeah, anything. Tell me” You respond as you nod with your head, and try to smile a little bit for him.

“Sing me our song, please…” You only proceeded to nod again as a sad smile adorned your face. You lick your red and puffy lips from crying before you start singing ‘Just Asking’ from Aquilo. He kept his eyes closed.

That was the last time you saw him. If you were honest with yourself, nothing mattered for a while. Feeling the heavy tears slide down your cheeks, letting the cold wind make your skin feel like ice. The weather felt like the one a couple of years ago. Fidgeting with the bracelet hanging from your wrist, you look up at the sepulcher that says ‘Baji family grave.’

You did a short prayer while the incense burned in front of you and behaved as a cleansing tool and offering. You gathered the courage to change the dried flowers for sumires, his mom’s favorite. “It's been a month since I last saw you… I’m sorry it took so long” You murmur. Closing your eyes and taking a big breath while trying to figure out where to start. All the past memories of you and him came rushing back instantly as the tears started to fall slowly.

“Where the fuck do i start?” You mumble as the air in the form of laughter escapes your lips. “Keisuke, nobody has broken my heart like you did… and nobody made me feel as safe as you did.” A little pause was made to sniff before continuing. “You know? It's funny cause I love you.” Your bottom lip trembles as you speak.

“I know you are always going to stay in my heart, and as long as the people who love you don't forget you we won't truly lose you and shit,” Heavy tears stream down both of your cheeks. Rubbing your hands together to attract heat to your body as you slowly open your eyes again and look at the bracelet on your wrist. Instantly remembering he also had one. “but fuck” You whisper lowly.

“You were meant to stay with me. You promised!”

“You fucking promised…”You bring your legs to your chest and hug them while letting out an ugly cry session. Despair and agony. You couldn't understand anything that happened. It wasn't fair! You were only fucking fifthteen and your best friend died in a gang fight.

You were selfish for wanting him to be alive. Wishing someone else died instead of him, someone who wasn't so close to you. The boy you had a crush on forever, the one who would get mad at you for forgetting about him while you talked to his mom and went through his old photo albums.

A tsunami had passed through your life and took the most precious thing for you. The scene you had witnessed a few weeks ago, Keisuke dying in your arms and in Chifuyu’s was looped inside your head. Taking away your sleep, appetite and the motivation to do even the simplest things like washing your face or taking a full shower. You did not know how some could move on as if nothing happened, you felt heavy and destroyed; like an aimless compass, completely damaged and forgotten.

As if he was actually hearing your thoughts, a ray of light illuminated the sky full of clouds. It looked like something taken out of a movie. You looked up to see where the source of light came from and you found a warm hug welcoming the heat that your body had desired for a while now. Maybe it was him, you wanted to believe it was, so you smiled with nostalgia. Laying your chin on your hands while looking up at the sky, imagining he was sitting right next to you. Little did you know, he was.

“I would never break my promise, Y/n.” A whisper in the form of wind went right past you and you shivered a little.

“I'm just asking you to say…” you sang while letting the sun hit your skin wishing for him to find peace.

© Nevess 2021. My original posts are not allowed to be edited, translated and/or re-uploaded on another account or platform without my permission, nevertheless, re-blogs are accepted and very appreciated.

tag list: @satmitsuplanet @sukunasbabymama @txrttarus if you want to be tagged leave tell me on the comments <3

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bokettochild · 3 years ago

Text

The Scarf Fic!!!

Inspired by This post by @sekiumiarashi and written as a gift for @into-the-linkverse

I wanted to write Ravio sharing scarves, but I accidentally found that I like writing Ravio, and more importantly, writing him and Legend like they’re a pair of elderly people, because... just because.

Giving Legend glasses was a choice that I didn’t see coming, but do not regret. I do regret Ravio’s naming scheme, but it was too funny to back out so I kept pushing. I’m not sorry that you all must suffer.

Feel free to read this as being part of my main fic The Ties That Bind, but it can also be separate, just consider the uncle bit as being related to predecessors and stuff.

Enjoy! :)

Mr. Captain Hero Sir wasn’t wearing his scarf.

The one constant Ravio knew he could always count on during the war, was that the captain would be wearing that bright blue scrap of cloth with all the pride in the world, no matter what the circumstances (good grief, one time he’d stumbled upon the man bathing and the scarf had been the only thing that saved them both from embarrassment). But today, he wasn’t.

The heroes had come to stay at Mr. Hero’s house again after a long battle, and Mr. Captain Hero Sir was currently sitting on the couch in the living room, one arm resting across it’s back and his feet propped up on the table. A scowl marred his fine features and his neck was horrifyingly naked.

“Mr. Captain Hero Sir! Where is your scarf?” The words were out of his mouth in a moment as he looked around the captain to make sure it simply hadn’t fallen off or been laid aside (things the captain would never let happen, ever. He’d once been bleeding out and still managed to keep the trailing blue fabric out of the mud.)

“It’s shredded.” The captain sighed, a bitter look in his eyes as he motioned down to the arm hanging from a sling around his neck. “And I’m currently unable to mend it.”

The thought of the captain not having a scarf was so utterly horrible, simply unthinkable, that Ravio didn’t even think about what he was doing, instead bounding over to plonk himself onto the couch and quickly unwind his scarf before rewinding it around the captain’s neck (he had a dozen of these things anyway).

“There! You can’t be without a scarf.”

Mr. Captain Hero Sir smiled fondly, fingers reaching up to gently stroke the fabric. “And you can?”

Ravio shrugged. “I have a dozen of those, keep it, it looks fabulous on you!”

The captain’s eyes sparkled brightly, a familiar cockiness erupting within. “Are you kidding? I make everything look good! Even the Vet’s fashion choices would look fabulous on me!”

Ravio sniggered. He’d heard and seen plenty of the goods from Hytopia, and he wasn’t entirely sure that Mr. Hero even knew what fashion was. But then again, he was just a simple Lolian; for all he knew, things like bomb outfits and heart shaped collars were absolutely acceptable and normal in this world.

“But where is your scarf, Mr. Captain Hero Sir?” He asked after a moment, cocking his head on one side as the man looked at him oddly.

“Don’t you ever get tired of saying that? You can call me Warriors like everyone else you know.”

“I know, Mr. Captain Hero Sir, I don’t mind.”

Mr. Captain Hero Sir blinked. “O-kay.” Shaking his head, he answered. “Legend has it. Since I can’t use my dominant hand, he said he’d stitch it up for me.” The captain hero nodded towards the corner of the room, and Ravio followed his line of sight.

Mr. Hero was perched in that Lolia-awful rocking chair that had been in the house since Nayru knows when. It was a horrid thing in his opinion, old, out of style and absolutely stiff and uncomfortable, and he’d shoved it into the furthest corner of the room ages ago. Mr. Hero loved it though, although he never said why, and he didn’t seem to mind that it was now nearly next to the fireplace all the time, even if he did have to pull it out of the corner to properly rock in it.

Mr. Hero sat with one leg tucked underneath him and the other one hanging down to gently push at the floor, making the big chair rock steadily. Mr. Captain Hero Sir’s scarf lay in his lap and a pair of spectacles perched on the bridge of his nose, a needle in his hand as he dutifully labored over the brilliant blue fabric of the famed scarf.

“His eyesight is terrible.” Ravio snickered to the Captain.

“But his hearing is perfect.” Mr. Hero’s voice rang clearly across the room, violet gaze darting up to look at them disapprovingly over the top of his spectacles.

The minute he looked away, merchant and captain shared a grin, only to burst into muffled laughter.

...

Mr. Smithy and Tune are cold.

It’s obvious from the way the two huddle in place at the kitchen table as everyone enjoys the meal that Ravio and Mr. Hero have pulled together (Mr. Hero is hesitant to let even the finest of chefs in his kitchen for some reason, despite having stated that Mr. Champion Hero is a very good cook and better than him (at cooking, life, or heroing, he does not specify)). Tune- Wind has all but attached himself to Sky’s side, using the bigger hero as a heat source as he slurps down his warm stew, and Mr. Smithy has bundled himself against the Mr. Rancher.

It’s only autumn, but both of the smaller heroes act like it’s the start of winter with the way they shiver and rub at their arms.

Mr. Hero’s only response when he asks is to sigh, but when he presses, his pink haired doppelganger eventually explains. “Their Hyrules were never corrupted, so they’re used to warmer weather most of the time, if not always. The mist from the ocean is the worst Wind knows, and heaven only knows if Four could survive a proper freeze.” Mr. Hero shakes his head, wiping the last of the broth from their meal off a plate with his dish-rag. “If they need something, they know to ask.”

But Mr. Hero isn’t really that cold hearted, he’s worrying too if the way his brows furrow and the lines around his mouth deepen is any indication. “I offered blankets, but they don’t want them.”

“Does this happen often?” He muses as he takes the plates from Mr. Hero to dry and put away, and to his displeasure, his housemate nods.

“When we come here or to Sky’s Hyrule, yeah. Usually, Wars will bundle them up in his scarf, or Sky with his sailcloth, even Twilight shares his fur, but...” Mr. Hero’s ears twitch irritably (truly adorable how they do that, although he’ll never say as much). “Sky’s asleep with his cape, the wolf pelt is a bloody mess after that battle, and I haven’t finished mending Wars’ scarf.” The ears flap again. “That thing is so dang complex and Warriors apparently hasn’t the faintest about the proper cloth to use to mend it. He used new material to mend a hole! Brand new material, Ravio! It’s an awful state and I swear if Styla could see it she’d faint dead away!” The vet huffed as he plunged another dish under the sudsy water of the wash tub. “Using new cloth on a worn scarf, it’s like he wants the thing to be ruined...”

Ah yes, Mr. Hero’s rants. There’d be no righting this one until he’d fixed the problem, and considering he’d only been torn away from the scarf that lay peacefully sitting on his rocker in order to make food, it was quite likely that once his kitchen was clean again, he’d be right back to working on it.

Ravio smiled, Mr. Captain Hero Sir would be quite pleased.

His gaze traveled over to where the hero in question was sitting. The captain and Tu- Wind, were talking on the couch, the younger staring nearly longingly at the rocker and the scarf on top of it.

Kid really liked that scarf, huh? If Ravio remembered right, half the time during his adventure with Mr. Captain Hero Sir, he’d constantly seen either Mask or Tune hanging onto it.

Somewhere inside of a bunny head, an idea sparked and green eyes brightened excitedly.

He’d donned a new scarf just before dinner, but it wouldn’t do quite right, so instead, he darted off to his room, much to the displeasure of his dish partner as his rag flew into Mr. Hero’s face and left his housemate spluttering indignantly.

“Ravio! You didn’t finish-”

“One sec!”

Mr. Hero’s grumbles followed him out of the kitchen, but faded as he darted into his room and towards his wardrobe. It was the work of moments to select two of his largest scarfs, and less time than that to dart back out to the living room and wrap one around each of the smaller heroes.

“There! Snug as a kit in a quilt!”

Two small heroes stared down at the black and purple fabric that now draped around their shoulders, smiles brightening their flushed faces as Tune buried his face happily in the fabric with a bright hum.

“Thanks, Ravio!”

“Thank you.” Four’s eyes glimmered warm brown as he sunk into his seat, only the top of his face and his hands visible beneath the striped fabric.

Mr. Captain Hero Sir’s eyes sparkled as the man looked up at him, and Ravio fought the blush that rose in his cheeks as he fiddled with his own scarf (he’d mess with his sleeves, but he’d shed his robe to help do the dishes, and his undershirt wasn’t nearly long enough to fiddle with). “Don’t mention it, it’s-” He chewed his lip for a moment before a smile broke loose, the one Mr. Hero said was cheesy and fake, the one for when he was trying to sell things. “It’s a complimentary gift for exceptional customers and/or guests!”

“We’ve never bought anything from you.” Four deadpanned, eyes glinting with a smile Ravio couldn’t see past all the scarf in the way.

“Yet!” Ravio chirped back, and darted back into the kitchen to help Mr. Hero finish doing the dishes.

...

Mr. Champion keeps rubbing his scars.

The heroes had left for a short spell, traveling off to fight more monsters only to be dumped in the orchard a week or so later (Mr. Hero said it’d been a month and a half for them, but by his time it was a week). And when Ravio said they’d been dumped in the orchard, he meant in the orchard. He’d been busy picking some of the ripened apples before the birds took them all (most of the wild birds knew better, but still, it was the principle of the thing, fresh fruit was rare in Lorule) when a shout and the snapping of branches had sounded all about him.

Ravio had shrieked in surprise, thinking that he was alone only to find (once he’d removed his hood again) that there were nine heroes hanging from various tree branches around him, and Mr. Hero himself was hanging upside down, one foot caught in the branches, as his face dangled inches from Ravio’s own, a scowl darkening it as a string of mumbles escaped his room-mate.

He couldn’t stop himself, he kissed Mr. Hero’s twitching nose.

Mr. Hero shrieked in surprise, jerking in place and effectively loosening himself from the tree, falling all over Ravio in the process. It was worth it, Ravio giggled as he lay on the ground. Mr. Hero was so like the bunnies in Lorule and their noses simply demanded to be kissed.

Laughter and grumbles sounded around them, the heroes pulling themselves down from the trees around them.

Captain Hero Sir Jr. moved with surprising ease, despite his heavy armor, clambering down the tree with the same grace that Mr. Champion did most of the time. Some things never change, he could still see him climbing up onto Mr. Captain Hero Sir’s shoulders in the same manner (only now he rather doubted either of them would attempt to do that anymore, Captain Hero Sir Jr. was much bigger now).

It felt entirely too natural to lead them all up to the house, Mr. Hero trailing at the back with a bushel of apples in his arms. Settling them all down in the kitchen was easy as could be, and he and Mr. Hero worked quickly to set some fresh apple cider to boil before starting on a meal for everyone.

He missed not having them all around, it was going to be awful dull when they all had to go back to their worlds when this adventure was over again.

He was determined to enjoy the moment for that very reason while they all sat about in the living room, sipping apple cider as Mr. Hero had settled down in his blasted rocker, spectacles on his nose and more mending in hand. He never would rest until the light was faded, and Ravio had half a mind to take out his knitting (he was still currently short three scarves) before he decided to simply flop down on the nearest open spot on the couch and just enjoy his cider.

Except, Mr. Champion was sitting in the seat beside him.

The young hero kept rubbing at his scars, eyes distant, and despite the numerous amounts of times that either Mr. Captain Hero Sir or Mr. Rancher tried to move his hands back down to the still full mug he was cradling in his other hand, Mr. Champion (he was younger than Ravio though...would Mr. Be an appropriate title for him?) kept reaching right back up to rub his neck and face.

The scars were enflamed, harsh red and puffy where they peeked out from beneath the collar of his shirt, and it made Ravio wince to even think of how he’d acquired such injuries that would scar so.

He only winced more with every drag of broken nails and rough finger pads over the skin, but Mr. Champion- Wild? He could think of him as Wild right? He was kind of the kid’s uncle in a weird way- didn't seem to even notice that he was doing it. Cornflower blue eyes stared unseeing into the fire, face still and only his hands moving.

Mr. Captain Hero Sir sighed, worry pulling his lovely face into shadows as he grasped Wild’s hands again. “Wild, hey, no more of that, okay? You’re hurting yourself.”

Fingers twitched, but no other movement came from the young Champion until Mr. Captain Hero Sir (wait, was Wild also Captain Hero Sir Jr.? Or was he Champion Hero? Oh fiddlesticks, he wasn’t sure anymore) let go, and then broken nails moved right back up towards swollen flesh.

Ravio shifted in his seat, uncomfortable.

Mr. Hero had spaced out before, did it a lot when the sun set or when he was outside, but he never scratched like that. He sang and fiddled with his rings. If Wild Champion Jr. Sir (oh heavens) did something like that, it would be fine, but this was... this was rather unsettling.

Ravio shifted in his seat, curling around his mug as Mr. Captain Hero Sir had to reach out to stop the wild-child's hands from reaching the inflamed wounds (the last scratch had broken skin, and a thin trail of red has appeared).

It was without a thought that he acted, pushing his mug into the captain’s hands and promptly looping his scarf around Wild Champion Hero Captain Jr.’s (oh Lolia help) neck.

Thoughtless fingers nose just as before, but this time, they brushed against soft fabric. Ravio tensed, dearly hoping that his scarf would not be ripped off or simply pushed aside.

To the surprise of all of them, rough fingers brushed over the fabric, paused, and gently stroked its material. The Champion’s face did not move, but slowly, long fingers ran down the fabric, rubbing it between their tips as cornflower blue eyes blinked slowly. In an instant, the young hero’s gaze was lost to sight as the fabric was nuzzled with all the fondness of a cub nuzzling their parent.

“He likes scarves, of course he does.” Mr. Rancher chuckled wearily, a tired smile playing over his features as both he and Mr. Captain Hero Sir sat back (but not before Ravio took his mug back).

“So he does.” Mr. Captain Hero Sir sighed, eyes fond as he watched the hero in question curl up on the couch, face lost in purple fabric and bare toes the only moving part of the kid. The wiggling toes were almost like a dog wagging its tail, but weirder, still, he wasn’t one to judge.

Mr. Captain hero Sir caught his eye. “Thank you, Ravio.”

“Customer loyalty.” He murmured softly into his mug.

He caught the way Mr. Hero and the others stared at him though, and he could only be thankful his hood shaded his face enough to hide his pleased blush.

...

Mr. Rancher needs to wear more color.

It’s like looking at the photos of Mr. Hero from just before he’d come around. Mr. Hero always fussed at him for going through things, but he couldn’t help but laugh at how odd his room-mate looked with black hair and dark clothes. “You dyed it?”

“For safety reasons. How many people have you see in Hyrule with pink hair of all things? It was a dead giveaway!”

“But you’re the hero?”

“A hero whose face was plastered on every wanted poster in Hyrule. Still is in some cases.” Mr. Hero had grumbled, folding the last piece of newly clean washing and throwing a pointed glare in his direction. “Life on the run sucks. I was thirteen and just wanted to be ignored.”

A glance at the dark haired but smiling youngster in the photo and back up to the bitter pink haired hero he knew told him (even if Mr. Hero hadn’t already) how well that wish had been fulfilled.

But seriously, those photos at least showed Mr. Hero with some color. The most Mr. Rancher wore was that horrid sash and obi, and the orange and blue looked simply terrible with his color scheme, something that, when brought up to Mr. Hero, his friend seemed to agree with, stating that ‘he’d never get into Hytopia’s capitol looking like that’.

Ravio had never been to Hytopia, but based on the stories and mannerisms Mr. Hero took on after that adventure, he can only agree.

Originally, he’d hoped he could simply find something among his wares that he could sell to Mr. Rancher, but that proved to only be so effective, after all, when one sells weapons and items, it’s hard finding a normal piece of clothing amidst all the blessed or charmed pieces.

Oh well, he was counting on ending up sharing the rest of his scarves with them all anyway.

It wasn’t any dramatic or particularly touching moment when he walked up and slung a clean scarf around the rancher’s shoulders, but Mr. Rancher, after initially starting, smiled as he touched the sun-warmed material. Of course, that expression quickly faded into one of awe as the hero squeezed the fabric lightly.

Mr. Rancher’s eyes lit up like a dog being given a new toy (Ravio wasn’t stupid, he knew a dog when he saw one) and the man proceeded to continue squeezing and petting the springy fabric with eyes sparkling as if Ravio had just handed him the stars themselves.

He was down to two scarves now, but it was worth it.

...

Mr. Traveler Hero is small.

He is small, and wild, and the clothes he’s wearing are nearly too small. The traveler is a growing child (never mind that he’s still a teenager himself) and he’s out and about in nearly threadbare garments that leave Ravio shivering at the mere thought of wearing.

And this is the other hero who grew up in a corrupted world where the sun doesn’t shine as bright as it should and the winters are always too long.

Ravio doesn’t think twice when he sees the first signs of cold in the young hero. He’s got two scarfs recently made, and he’s only too happy to share.

Purple and black stripes nearly drown the young hero when he walks over and wraps not one, but two of the comfiest scarves he’s ever made around the youngster's neck.

Like Mr. Rancher, nothing is said or done immediately, but Mr. Traveler Hero smile at him shyly, holding up a hand and scampering over to his bag.

The pair of polished stones he’s given don’t make much sense, but he catches sight of Mr. Hero and Captain Hero Sir Jr. Both smiling over at the two through the doorways.

“Thank you.” He murmurs warmly, tucking the rocks in his pocket.

“Thank you.!” Mr. Traveler smiles in return, eyes twinkling in the shade of the room and scarf tails flapping like the four wings of a fairy as he spins around to show them to Mr. Hero.

...

Captain Hero Sir Jr. has nothing comfy to wear.

Once more, the heroes had been whisked away, and once more they’d appeared at the house weeks later, looking exhausted and utterly soaked.

The chill autumn rain might be to blame for that.

Mr. Hero hadn’t even protested that... Wild (he’d just call him Wild, he couldn’t do this title thing this time) had bustled off into the kitchen to warm some tea, and instead promptly collapsing in all his soaked glory onto the couch.

The other heroes followed suit, and Ravio (like a good host) immediately hopped up and fetched some blankets. Mr. Rancher was already stoking the fire, and with a bit of work, Ravio was able to help Mr. Her grasp what was left of his own steaming mug of cider (his hands were quite the state in this bitter weather) before popping off to the kitchen to brew more of the sweet apply goodness to share with the heroes.

Armor and over-clothes had been stripped off, sitting wet and dripping in one corner (Mr. Hero eyes it with distaste, knowing just as Ravio did just what that would be doing to the floor) but neither housekeeper said anything, Mr. Hero nursing his cider and letting its warmth sooth his gnarled fingers, and Ravio puttering about with a kettle and mugs to share with everyone else.

Blankets had been pulled from the shelves and were cast around quaking shoulders as chattering teeth uttered breathy thanks to the purple-robed merchant.

There was nothing like being thanked for good service, and Ravio beamed as he passed between them.

That smile faded however when he noticed Captain Hero Sir Jr.

The man sat in a thin linen shirt and under-armor, looking far from being near the level of comfort that the rest did in their undershirts and pants (or a dress in Mr. Hero’s case).

Come to think of it he’d never seen Captain Hero Sir Jr. dress in any comfortable manner since he’d come along behind Mr. Hero that first time since they’d started this adventure. Did the poor kid- er... Man, not have anything comfortable to wear?

While the heroes slept that night, in the two bedrooms and sprawled across the couch, Ravio kept Mr. Hero comfortable, sitting before the fire with his knitting needles while Mr. Hero repaired yet more damaged clothing (poor mister Chosen Hero’s sailcloth had been damaged somehow).

Usually, one or the other of them would eventually remind the other to go to bed, but both were so wrapped up in their work (Mr. Hero started singing even, that goddess ballad Miss. Princess told hm about) that neither seemed to remember to check the clock, or even to go to bed.

Come morning, Ravio finds that he has fallen asleep wrapped in the tails of the scarf he’d been making, and Mr. Hero has become entangled in his mending, a peaceful smile on his face, worn fabric brushing his cheeks and spectacles teetering precariously on the tip of his nose.

Mr. Chosen Hero is the one who wakes them up, stirring awake with a violent sneeze, but he smiles fondly when he lays eyes on them, opening his arms in an offer of a cuddle if either feels inclined to return to sleep. Neither does, but Ravio appreciates it, and even if Mr. Hero doesn’t say as much (quite the opposite really) he knows his friend does too.

The day is normal, as far as a day with nine heroes in the house can be, and with the rain still pouring, they spend their time cleaning, although Mr. Hero shoos them all away after a time because they’re not doing it the right way (AKA Mr. Hero's very practiced manner of cleaning and organizing). It’s after Mr. Hero had shooed them all into the main room while he organizes the basement (thank goodness, it's an awful mess down there) that the talk starts.

It’s cold out, and most of the heroes have donned the scarves they’ve been gifted over time (Ravio isn’t blushing, he’s not). Smiles shine and laughter rings as they explain to their brothers how they’d some to have them.

“And he just... threw t at me! Not a word, not an explanation, just came up and tossed it over my shoulders.” Mr. Rancher chuckles. “Kinda like how my ma would do when I was a tot, jist wrap it up and ‘round soon as the cold weather came a’creepin’ up.”

The others nod, smiles fond. Ravio beams as he lights the candle set near the masks on the wall.

“I had one too once,” Captain Hero Sir Jr. Muses aloud. “Back in the war, you remember, Wars?”

“Do I ever.” Mr. Captain Hero Sir smirks. “I used to tie you up with that thing when you got too rowdy.”

“You and the general both.” Captain Hero Sir Jr. Chuckles, soft and deep and so different from his nearly witch level cackle that Ravio remembers.

“What ever happened to it?” He asks curiously, blowing out his match and turning to move towards the rest of the group.

Captain Hero Sir Jr. Smiles at him, eyes far older but far more at peace than they used to be. “I outgrew it. It was a child’s scarf, even if it was a bit big at the time. I considered bringing it, but it just doesn’t do much anymore.” A thin smile pulls at his features, almost guilty as he admits “I didn’t take the best care of my clothes as a kid.”

Well, that doesn’t matter over much. Ravio smiles at his young (old) friend, and around him he can hear the others whisper and laugh. They know what’s happening, and Captain Hero Sir Jr. Does too if the twinkle in his eyes is to be believed, so Ravio makes a point of flourishing his gift with all the fuss he can before reverently draping the garment around the tall man’s neck. The eldest hero has to stoop, even from where he’s sitting on the couch, so that Ravio can reach, but it only adds to the mock reverence as Ravio adorns another bare neck with one of his toasty scarves.

“Mind you take care of that one,” He scolds lightly. “I was up all night making it.”

“Yes sir.” Captain hero Sir Jr. responds with a playful smile in his eyes, even if his face is the picture of obedience.

Giggles sound around them, and despite hating it, Ravio takes the only seat left available (he really hates that rocker) and curls up. “You all be quiet now, I’m tired and need a nap.”

“Okay, gramps.” The sailor whispers faintly, a giggle in his tone as titters and chuckles erupt.

Strangely, it doesn't take too long for Ravio to doze off, especially when Mr. Hero settles in beside him and starts to rock the stupid chair, humming lightly as fingers work over another project, the light buzz of activity all around them as Ravio allows himself to be carried into dreamland.

...

Mr. Chosen Hero has caught cold.

He’s not surprised, not with how drenched the others all were day before last, but the Skyloftian is shivering madly, miserably sniffing into handkerchiefs and trying his best to avoid drinking the nasty herbal teas that Mr. Hero claims are good for people. Ravio doesn’t care if Mr. Hero drinks them, but for pities sake, drink black tea if you’re going to drink tea! What sort of decent being are you if you’re just drinking plant water?

“Legend, I’m serious, I don’t-” Mr. Chosen Hero breaks off coughing. “I don’t think tea will-” Another cough, nastier than the last. “I don’t think it will help.”

“Trust me.” Mr. Hero already has a small table pulled up to Mr. Chosen Hero’s side, tea and handkerchiefs both set carefully on top. “Tea’s just what you need. Eucalyptus does wonders for a cold.”

“He’s right.” Mr. Traveler Hero chimes in, gaze warm and sleepy as he sips some of the tea himself. “And it’s got a calming effect.”

Mr. Hero cocks a brow. “What are you, ‘Rule, a koala?”

No one knows what that is, except Mr. Traveler Hero, but it doesn’t seem to matter much, as Mr. Chosen Hero breaks into another coughing fit and bundles a blanket closer around his shoulders, voice hoarse when he speaks. “I wish it’d stop raining. I didn’t even realize-” A cough sounds and is followed by a sniffle. “I didn’t realize the surface got so wet.”

And Ravio sees where this is going, the shivering hero, the gentle atmosphere. He doesn’t bother waiting for Mr. Chosen Hero to sniffle again, he just wraps a scarf around the man’s neck, tucking it in close enough to keep the heat in.

The smile exchanged is silent, and Ravio is thankful that the others aren’t about at present to tease, only Mr. Hero and Mr. Traveler Hero are here with them, and neither says a word as they sip their leaf water.

“I’ll make you some real tea.” He murmurs softly, offering a wink and a gentle pat to the knee before he’s off towards the kitchen.

...

Mr. Hero doesn’t have a scarf.

It was glaringly obvious, as whenever the rest of them appeared at the house, they'd all be wearing their Ravio gifted scarfs proudly, smiles on their faces as the ends trailed or dragged after them (despite that, they were all in perfect condition).

But Mr. Hero didn’t have a scarf.

He was never going to get one either.

They’ve all just returned to the house (it’s been two months since the last visit) and the snow outside it up to Ravio’s waist in places. It took him ages to shovel himself out of the house, but the harvest of apples is in and the bees are well prepared for the winter, and Mr. Hero finally tidied the cellar enough that they have room for food storage aplenty.

Cider and tea are brewed as the heroes gather, fluffy socks and scarves on full display as they sit around the fire.

Mr. Hero is shivering.

Curious glances are thrown at both himself and Mr. Hero as the heroes drink their beverage of choice, concern in their gazes as Legend eventually gets up to pull the most ridiculously bulky quilt in the entire house over his shoulders. He’s all pink in the face and he’s shaking like a leaf, and it’s only because he won’t hold still that Ravio hasn’t attempted to try and help him hold a warm mug enough for his fingers to relax.

Mr. Hero moves like a man thrice his age, if not more, and he creaks worse than the roof does in the wind outside.

“Where’s your scarf, vet?” Mr. Captain Hero Sir murmurs softly, one brow raised as he watches Mr. Hero fumble with the quilts edge.

“My what?”

Glances are exchanged among the others. “Your scarf? The one Ravio gave you?”

“I don’t have a scarf.” Mr. Hero answers, dropping the quilt again with a scowl that makes his nose wiggle.

“But” Cornflower blue dart between himself and his housemate. “Aren’t you two friends? How do you not already have a scarf? Even Time did!”

“It’s a customer service thing.” Mr. Hero murmurs. “I’m already a loyal customer, so he doesn’t waste resources on trying to earn my loyalty. That, and I don’t wear purple.”

He shakes his head, loosening his scarf as the eyes of the others twinkle, but rather than taking it off, he only loosens one end, before wrapping it tightly around his friend’s neck, fluffing up the quilt in both of their laps, and settling a warm mug of cider in Mr. Hero’s hands.

“Nonsense!” he chirps, trying not to be hurt at the obvious surprise on his friend's face, so he muses Mr. Hero’s hair instead. “You have every item I offer except this scarf. Why would you keep buying from me if you get it? I have to keep you from having one until I get something better in, otherwise business will plummet!”

Knowing smiles are exchanged amidst the others, but Mr. Hero just sighs and shakes his head, leaning slightly into Ravio’s side as he sips his cider.

A bitter expression overtakes Mr. Hero’s face. “You forgot the cloves.”

“Oh shoot!”

#linked universe #linkeduniverse #scarf fic #scarf man #ravio #lu warriors #lu wind #lu four #lu wild #lu twilight #lu time #lu sky #lu hyrule #lu legend #scarf #fluffics #I almost forgot Hyrule!#I'm so sorry baby!

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