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keirametzbrassknuckles · 1 year

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So I saw this video of a beefy guy making a cake and thought he looked like Letho and then the thought of Letho making cakes refused to leave me alone so in typical me fashion I wrote almost 4k words about it.

Ships: Letho/Gaetan

Modern AU

Rating: T

Warnings: grief, candid discussions of murder, mild allusions to gore, PTSD, Gaetan, OOC bullshit, drug addiction, discussions of prison and incarceration.

Letho is 30 when he’s granted freedom.

Reasonably, many government officials and gossip rags will claim, he shouldn’t have gotten his freedom at all; too violent, too sick in the head, too volatile. But they’d promised as part of his plea deal, as part of the kickback for turning himself in after he’d killed the man that killed his brothers: parole in ten years with good behaviour. And he has been, good that is. He even got a degree, worked in the prison kitchens, read all the classics. Model prisoner.

But now he wants to make something with his hands.

They ask him, at his parole hearing, what he plans to do with his life after prison, what he’s gonna do with this gift they’re giving him.

“I think I’ll make cakes” he says.

They laugh like he just told the funniest joke in the world.

He starts small; just baking for himself at first. The kitchen in his studio apartment is cramped and the oven is inconsistent but he makes it work. He’s a felon, now, and people don’t like renting to felons so he has to take what he can get. There, in the harsh light of the bare bulb in that apartment with the peeling wallpaper and the smell of damp, life gets a little sweeter.

Once he’s mastered the texture of the sponge he moves on to frosting. An ancient stand mixer is procured from a secondhand shop and put to rigorous work crafting buttercream and meringue and ganache until he’s happy with it, until it makes his taste buds sing when he sticks a fingerfull of it in his mouth. He’s scientific with it, exacting, adding more or less of different ingredients and taking detailed notes. It passes the time, fills the lonely empty stretches of his day when he’s not at work or lying awake staring at the ceiling and wrestling with sleep.

He reads, in one of the self-help books he brings with him on his commute to and from the hospital where he works doing laundry, that drawing is sometimes helpful, therapeutic, that to give an image to the problem is sometimes easier than trying to describe it with words. He picks up decorating tips and piping bags on his way home, digging through the bins of baking supplies at the only twenty-four-hour shop in his neighborhood while the baffled cashier watches him, ghostly and exhausted in the 3am fluorescent light.

He gets fired from the hospital.

They don’t tell him why but the implication is that he’s scaring people. He wonders if these people have ever been actually scared in their life. If he was trying to frighten them they’d know it.

He doesn’t draw the horrors or the anger or the injustice, doesn’t draw Serrit and Auckes and their cold, dead, faces or the way their killer had looked with his brain on the pavement Letho standing over him with the smoking gun. No he doesn’t draw any of that. He draws the nice things, things that make him smile, decorating his cakes with painstakingly copied flowers, little fondant frogs in a little buttercream pond, the fanciful design of the dishes his mom used when he was a boy. Life Affirming. He just learned that term and is trying to apply it everywhere he can. Even though he can’t afford to keep his lights on, even though he hasn’t slept in weeks.

He gets work doing night security for a warehouse. It’s boring, mostly, but the hours line up with his insomniac schedule and the pay is enough to keep him in flour and icing sugar to his heart's content. After a few months he starts bringing his extra baked goods around and leaving them in the breakroom. No one mentions it but the cupcakes are always gone when he goes to retrieve the tray at the end of his shift which he takes as a good sign.

That is until one night he goes to take his four-am break and finds someone else there, mid-bite. It’s one of the truckers that bring in the night deliveries, big guy, almost as big as Letho is, wearing a patched red flannel and a baseball hat. When he turns Letho nearly recoils at the sight of the massive scar marring the left side of his otherwise handsome face.

“Oh man” the trucker says, eyes closed in pleasure “I dunno who makes the damn cupcakes y’all always have around here but they’re the best damn things in the world”

“Um” says Letho “I make ‘em”

The trucker cocks his head to the side, embarrassed almost, like he’s trying to hide his scar away. Letho knows what he looks like, knows that he looks more like a killer than a baker, that he doesn’t look like someone who would like to make things. He’s musclebound, hulking, scarred, scary; his face makes children cry.

The trucker seems to make a decision, suddenly, holding out one broad, calloused hand for Letho to shake.

“The name’s Eskel. You ever think about selling these things? You’re wasted on night security”

Turns out Eskel has a niece. Turns out Eskel’s niece is turning thirteen in a couple weeks. Turns out Eskel thinks Letho should make the birthday cake.

“She likes unicorns” Eskel says, rubbing at the back of his neck like he’s unsure “Last I heard anyway, and swords and hunting n’ shit -- my brother takes her out hunting all the time -- No fucking clue how you’ll turn that into a cohesive cake but we’ll pay you and you can come to the party”

It’s heady, the idea that someone likes what he does enough to pay him for it, so Letho agrees.

He makes a multi-tiered cake, chocolate and vanilla checkerboard sponge with a vanilla buttercream decorated with scenes of running unicorns and fantastical heraldry with Happy Birthday Ciri picked out in chocolate ganache on top. There might be creme anglaise involved too, there might be raspberries.

The birthday party is being held at the family farm, nestled way up in the mountains. Eskel, on the drive up, explains that the land’s been in the family for generations and that none of Eskel’s brothers are actually related by blood but that they’re all tied to the land in the same way; some kind of bond deeper than the genetic. It’s a beautiful plot of land: wild sloping meadows, animal pens, the low-slung bulk of the main house. He can see, driving up to it, why it would be loved, why it might have been an idyllic childhood.

He meets Lambert, Eskel’s littlest brother, who takes one shrewd-eyed look at Letho and promptly asks “what were you in for?” which Letho thankfully doesn’t have to answer because Eskel essentially tackles him to the ground shouting you can’t just ask people that! (he learns, later, that Lambert spent most of his youth in and out of Juvie and his partner has several larceny convictions under his belt. It was a question of recognition rather than spite but at the time the fact that he’d been recognized for what he was so easily chills him). There’s Geralt, the white-haired middle child who is monosyllabic in a way that speaks of shyness but whose calloused hands denote deft experience. Geralt’s wife Yennefer ( or is it ex wife? He can’t quite get a read on them), a gaggle of loud pre-teens, and several other adults who Letho is introduced to and promptly forgets. And then there’s the birthday girl herself, little Ciri who is talkative and wild to the same degree as her father is collected and resigned.

They all gather round the long table for Letho to reveal the cake, singing the obligatory birthday song with Ciri at the head of the table pink-cheeked and slightly embarrassed by the attention.

“Oh my god” she says at the sight of the cake, breathless, blue eyes wide as dinner plates “oh my god, oh my god oh my god holy shit”

“Language” her father reprimands in a tone of voice that means he’s not expecting to be paid any attention whatsoever.

“It’s like” she says, turning to beam up at Letho so brightly he thinks he might get a sunburn “too pretty to eat”

They do eat the cake, ultimately, which leads to another round of exclamations from everyone present and Lambert swatting Eskel on the back of the head and calling him a dumbass for not ordering a larger size.

It’s a good party, all around. Letho spends most of it on the outskirts of the festivities, feeling out of place and antsy because of it, but the night is warm and smells of dry grass and growing things, echoes with the sound of children’s laughter. He wonders what it would be like to grow up in a family like this, one where people actually cared about each other.

Later, once most of the kids have been taken home and it’s just the adults and Ciri sitting around the dying fire in the backyard, the patriarch of the family approaches Letho, taking the seat next to him and stretching out his legs with a sigh.

“Y’know” says the old man, not looking at Letho like he’s embarrassed “I’ve got a table at the farmers market in town on Saturdays but I don’t use the whole space anymore -- don’t have the same kind of help I used to and I sold the back half of the property a few months back so less growing room -- Wonder if you’d like to bring some of your stuff to sell. Think they’d go over well”

They do.

In only a matter of months Letho has to start seriously thinking about starting an actual honest to god business. Demand is high, he has commissions aplenty, and he’s starting to realize he needs a bigger space if he’s gonna make any kind of serious go at this.

With help from the internet and Lambert (who, oddly and yet completely unsurprisingly, is a lawyer by trade) he gets a business plan drawn up and starts applying for loans. It starts small; just a rented kitchen space in a large industrial building which he gets inspected and certified. It has a big chest fridge to store the finished products in and miles of counter space; he’s happy with it.

He quits his job at the warehouse to bake full time.

He bakes the cake for Lambert and Keira’s wedding and then another, private, cake just for them, to celebrate the three of them and their unofficial union with Aiden as well.

Everyone asks him when he’s opening a shop.

He waves it off at first, laughs when asked. He’s not that kind of business owner, prefers to do everything himself. The pressure would be too much, he thinks.

And then he thinks about it harder.

There’s an old storefront up for lease in an up and coming part of downtown; bay windows, wood floors, it already has a pastry case up front and a full kitchen in the back, already has an industrial sized oven. It would be an easy transition and Letho finds himself wandering the neighborhood more regularly, spending hours just standing and staring at the empty shop, imagining what he would do with it. He’s never had something of his own before. The possibility terrifies him but it’s a good kind of terror.

He takes the leap.

He ends up doing most of the work himself, with occasional help from Eskel, redesigning and redecorating and getting everything in order. The end result is something that is very clearly not a traditional cake shop but which is Letho’s in a certain indefinable way; masculine dark leather, hardwood and steel tempered by the way the light streams in through those bay windows and colors everything in gold.

The newspaper sends a reporter to review their opening day and Letho sits with her and answers her questions to the best of his ability, stilted and awkward and uncomfortable in the spotlight. She seems surprised by him, goes a little misty-eyed when he explains the cakes he’d made for Serrit and Auckes (pear, cream cheese and brown butter caramel for Serrit, blackcurrant, chocolate, and pistachio for Auckes; sun and moon, two halves of one being). The review is beyond glowing and the story of the muscle bound hulk of a felon turned baker captures the imagination of the public. Soon Letho finds himself swept off his feet by orders, by customers. He hires staff to take care of the front and rarely shows his face, content to stay in the back with his ovens and his piping bags, dreaming up new concoctions and decorating children’s birthday cakes with flowers and marzipan bears.

It feels good to make something that makes people so happy.

By the time he’s forty Letho thinks he has everything he’d ever wanted.

He has a thriving business, a little two-bedroom house with a garden in a quiet part of the city, he’s even considering getting a dog. He thinks of what Serrit and Auckes would say if they could see him now; they’d probably call him a sellout, would turn up their noses at his quiet existence, all teenage self-importance and identical expressions of distaste (the twins are always fifteen in his mind, never grow any older, stuck in stasis at the age they’d been when they died). The thought of their derision makes him smile, warms him through. He wonders when the thought of them stopped hurting, when he made peace with the loss. He’d been too busy living to notice.

He’s happy, he is, but, in his quiet moments he wishes he had someone to share it all with. It’s a strange desire, out of character and he blames it on getting old and sentimental. Maybe getting that dog will help.

Then one day Lambert calls out of the blue and asks for a favor.

“Look” Lambert says, sounding frazzled “I’m really sorry to ask, man, but Aiden’s brother just got out of rehab and he needs to be in the city for his outpatient treatment and it’s too fucking far to drive every day…” long story short they can’t drive him, he can’t stay with them (something about a fraught, though caring, relationship between the estranged half siblings) and could Letho, maybe, please, put him up for a couple weeks and keep an eye on him, just until Aiden can find him somewhere else to stay -- a sober home or a halfway house or something. Of course Letho says of course he can stay. He’s got that whole other bedroom just gathering dust anyway.

“He’s an artist” Lambert says “Maybe you could put him to work decorating for you”

It’s only half a joke.

Letho wasn’t sure what he was expecting when he agreed to this, someone like Aiden maybe; gregarious and hyperactive and loud. What he gets, however, is a sullen twenty-two year old with a shaved scalp and a perpetual snarl carved into the corners of his mouth. He’s clutching a worn black duffel bag like it’s going to save him.

Gaetan is angry, hurting, reminds Letho of himself at that age, the same kind of hardened fury worn as armor, the same hunted look in his green eyes like he’s never sure where the next blow is coming from only that it will hurt. He’s been cast aside, left to slip through the cracks by a world that couldn’t give less of a shit about him and only taught him how to be afraid. Oddly, though, he’s not afraid of Letho.

Letho is used to it, the minute flinches as he passes by, the open horrified staring (which is better for the truth of it) the way that even other men sometimes refuse to meet his eye when they shake hands. Gaetan doesn’t flinch, doesn’t shy away, just looks at him with his piercing emerald gaze and doesn’t say anything. Letho feels like someone is rummaging around in his guts, his heart thunders loud loud loud in the cavern of his ribs. He wonders if Gaetan can hear it.

“Gaetan” Gaetan says at last, extending one skinny, track-marked arm, one paint-stained, fine-boned hand “The fuck up”

Something in Letho recognizes its twin, a pull at the core of him.

“Letho” Letho responds in kind “also a fuck up”

Gaetan doesn’t smile but some of the tension in his shoulders eases.

It’s nice having someone else in the house, another presence, someone else to cook dinner for at night. Gaetan comes and helps around the shop most mornings, drawing the daily menu on the blackboard with his own artistic flair. He’s always fiddling with something and is prone to sudden mood swings from one extreme of human emotion to the other going from depressed to overjoyed like the sun coming out from behind a cloud. He’s whip smart, a brilliant artist, and Letho finds himself often in awe of him, distracted by watching him flit from place to place, from notebook page to notebook page, the way the frown gathers between his eyebrows when he’s concentrating hard. He’s good at decorating cakes it turns out and Letho lets him loose on the cupcakes most days, inspired by his endless well of creativity.

He drives Gaetan to the clinic in the afternoons, does crosswords in the waiting room while Gaetan does whatever he does there, and then they go back to the shop. Sometimes Gaetan is sullen and withdrawn after his appointments, nauseous and exhausted, but sometimes he’s wild and brilliant and alive, talking about whatever pops into his head. Letho loves those days. Gaetan tells dirty jokes to make the baristas at the shop laugh, critiques Letho’s newest recipes with his particularly acerbic wit, puts thrash metal music on the shop playlist just to scandalize the old ladies there for afternoon tea. Perhaps it's bad for his brand image but it makes Gaetan happy so Letho doesn’t mind.

He adds a new cake to the menu about a month into Gaetan’s stay -- ginger and chili sponge with vanilla bean buttercream -- sweet and unconventional with a little smoky kick to it, the flecks of vanilla bean in the buttercream like the spray of freckles across Gaetan’s cheekbones.

They keep similar schedules, sleeping for a mere two hours at a stretch before waking again to the clawed hands of a nightmare in the dark. Letho doesn’t ask about Gaetan’s nightmares and Gaetan never asks about his but they can hear each other, separated as they are only by the wall between their two bedrooms, hear the wild cries, the choked-on sobbing of the children that they were never allowed to be.

At night he lies awake and listens for Gaetan’s thrashing next door, the telltale thud of him getting out of bed and retreating to the kitchen. Letho follows.

They don’t say anything, don’t need to. Letho trials new recipes and Gaetan sketches and smokes, silent, in the gold dimness of the kitchen; keeping each other company in their restlessness.

Somewhere along the way Letho realizes he’s fallen in love.

It’s ludicrous really. He’s not built for love, fundamentally unlovable as he is, and the thought that Gaetan would ever want him back is laughable. It’s doomed to failure, he reasons; Gaetan deserves someone his own age, someone better than a washed up felon who sculpts animals out of marzipan and calls it work, someone who can match him, who shines just as brightly as he does. But Gaetan is… Gaetan and loving him is as easy as breathing, it's the easiest thing he’s ever done. He can’t help the machinations of his own heart.

Four months after Gaetan came to stay, Aiden calls to tell them there’s a sober home in Brugge with a bed open.

“I know it’s far luchik” he’d said, voice tinny with distance and a poor connection “but please just consider it. It would be good for you.”

Gaetan had responded by throwing the phone across the room

It hangs over them like a blade about to drop, the threat of separation and that night, post-nightmare, Letho realizes he can’t stand it anymore.

“You can stay” Letho says; the feelings are too big to contain, everything flickery and unreal in the predawn through the window and the gold of the kitchen light. It feels like the place for a near-confession, the time for it “here, with me”

The slow scratching of Gaetan’s pencil against the paper stops.

“You want me to stay?” He says it like he’s not entirely sure he can believe it, like maybe there’s another shoe that's gonna drop.

Letho doesn’t turn around from where he’s painstakingly rolling fondant into rose petals knowing that if he does he’s going to say something else, something damning.

“Only if you want to stay”

Gaetan has had so many choices taken away from him throughout his life, Letho isn’t about to do the same.

“Letho…” Gaetan says, deadly serious, quiet in the dimness, near suddenly. Letho hadn’t heard him approach.

“Letho”

He’s afraid to turn but he has to, has to look.

Gaetan surges up to kiss him, hands curled possessive in the front of Letho’s shirt pulling him down so he can reach.

Letho kisses him back, greedy with it, a wild collision of lips and tongue and the gentle nip of teeth. He cups the back of Gaetan’s shorn skull with a hand gritty with flour just to haul him closer, just because he wants to and he can.

“No ones ever wanted to keep me before” Gaetan whispers into the space between them, like a confession, like a prayer.

I’ll keep you forever Letho thinks, bending to kiss him again and again and then again, drunk on it. Gaetan tastes like ginger and chili and vanilla buttercream. I’ll keep you forever.

Four years later Letho bakes their wedding cake and Gaetan decorates it.

#This does not go on ao3 cause it's not that good actually #I literally wrote this in 10 hours on the comedown from a massive night out #I take no responsibility for the mistakes and poorly used language and shallow characterisation #my fic #my writing #letho/gaetan #vipurr #the witcher

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redgoldblue · 2 years

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ten random lines!

rules: pick any ten of your fics, scroll to the midpoint, pick a line (or three) and share it. then tag ten people.

i was tagged by @five-wow ✨ ❤️ ✨

and i’ll tag... oh that is so many people i cannae tag that many people. and most of the people i’d tag have already been picked up so @faorism @gallantrejoinder @thomtrebond and that will do since it’s already taken me like five days of having this post open in a tab and occasionally dropping back into it. Seven worth of You, Yes You Reading This if you’d like to

in no particular order, semi-randomly selected from the first page of my ao3:

1. I Would Break Into Your House Just To Put Sugar In Your Tea (H50)

Steve doesn’t let go of Danny’s shoulders once they’re upright. Instead, as Eddie clacks around their feet grumbling about the foiling of his plan, he runs his hands down Danny’s bare arms. He’s looking at Danny with an oddly intense expression, and for a baffling second it seems like he’s about to hold Danny’s hands.

But he stops at his forearms, and does something far more baffling. He leans down and kisses him.

2. Writing Your Name In Indelible Pencil (S&H)

“Yeah, okay. Of course I’d noticed you. Guy who looks like he should be modelling briefs in an angel costume somewhere, and instead he was a neurotic mess hunched over in the front row chewing on a pencil.”

“I did not look like an underwear model.”

“Well, maybe that was hopes and overactive imagination, huh? I saw it clear enough in my head, full centerfold. Aw, babe, you’re blushing.”

3. Lips Like Sugarcane (H50)

“Huh,” Steve said. “You want to come swimming with me?”

“Do I- no, I do not want to come swimming with you. I’ve told you how I feel about swimming. Besides,” besides, what he definitely did not need after this morning was to see Steve half-naked in the water. “I have all these baked goods to spruce now,” he finished instead, waving around at the – somewhat meagrely filled, because he’d been expecting the lack of customers, but still filled – racks and cases.

4. i’m all yours (just show me you want me) (SPN)

“Cas, I- you- that-” Dean shuts up again and drops his head, staring down at his empty hands. He’s never even been any good at motivational speeches, let alone romantic ones. Stick to the facts. “I love you.”

5. Raspberry Sours (Leverage)

Eliot just nods, because he’s not sure he trusts himself to open his mouth without his voice cracking. Hardison murmurs, “Oh,” and opens his arms. “Hug?”

Eliot nods again, and lets himself walk into Hardison, who immediately wraps his arms around him.

6. there’s a crack in everything i hold close to my soul (H50)

“That dog has no right to be jealous of anyone when it comes to you. I actually think if someone was holding a gun to your head and telling you to choose between me or him you’d pick him.”

“You can defend yourself better,” Steve points out. “And you’d figure out a way to take down the guy with the gun.”

7. Calling The Shots (S&H)

“I got hustled.”

“Yeah. You don’t trust easy.”

The words of this conversation – more monologue than conversation – feel like they’re in a slipstream, sliding between meanings. “You gonna take your shot?”

8. Come Take The Wheel (don’t you wanna save me? don’t you wanna own me?) (S&H)

He’d been standing in front of the coffee corner for probably a full minute by now, staring blankly and thinking about dates and Hutch and Hutch-on-dates, which was all a delightfully abstract way of not dealing with his very concrete desire to kiss Hutch and hold him and buy a house and 2.5 golden retrievers with him, as well a decent variety of other less family-friendly activities, and the fact that said desire had driven him to Huggy’s at four in the afternoon to pickle himself like a sardine. Did sardines get pickled? Or was that anchovies. No, it was herring. Pickle himself like a herring.

He flipped the kettle on and went to down a glass of water while it boiled.

9. boy, it’s nights like this that I know why (NCIS: LA)

Callen watched the road in silence for a while, and was just considering the viability of trying to swing back around to the ‘oh yeah you apparently had an hour-long panic attack’ subject when Sam took the decision out of his hands by declaring, a little too harshly, “You died, you know that? In the ambulance, while I was sitting next to you, you died.”

10. Advent Calendar 2022 - the girl of the moment (many fandoms, although this happens to be the only MASH chapter)

“Who knew decorating for Chrismukkiversaries could be so exhausting?”

“Well, maybe if you hadn’t decided to name it something with so many letters,” Peg complained, gesturing at the banner over the couch that read ‘Happy Chrismukkiversary!’ inscribed in a variety of Erin’s crayons and decorated with an artful splash of glitter.

#Hawaii Five 0 #Starsky & Hutch #Starsky and Hutch #MASH #Leverage #NCIS: LA #Supernatural #my writing #fic #mine #McDanno #destiel #punnihawk #sallen

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meg-moira · 4 years

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The Witch Who Spoke to the Wind

Sequel to Eindred and the Witch

In which Severin, the golden eyed witch, learns that his greatest enemy and truest love is fated to kill him.

Dealing in prophecies is a dubious work. Anyone who knows anything will tell you as much.

“Think of all of time as a grand tapestry,” his great-grandmother had said, elbow deep in scalding water. Her hands were tomato red, and Severin watched with wide golden eyes as she kneaded and stretched pale curds in the basin. “You might be so privileged to understand a single weave, but unless you go following all surrounding threads, and the threads around those threads, and so on - which, mind you, no human can do - you’ll never understand the picture.”

Severin, who was ten years old and had never seen a grand tapestry, looked at the cheese in the basin and asked if his great-grandmother could make the analogy about that instead.

“No,” she replied. “Time is a tapestry. Cheese is just cheese.”

And that was that.

By fifteen, Severin who was all arms, legs, and untamable black hair, decided he hated prophecies more than anything in the world. He occupied himself instead with long walks atop the white bluffs well beyond his family’s home. Outside, he could look at birds, and talk to the wind, and not think about the terrible prophecy which followed him like a shadow.

His second eldest sister had revealed it - accidentally, of course. Severin lived in a warm and bustling house with his great-grandmother, grandmother, mother, two aunts, and three sisters. All of whom were generously gifted in the art of foretelling (a messy business, each would say if asked), and every one of them had seen Severin’s same bleak thread.

He would die. Willingly stabbed through the heart by his greatest enemy and truest love.

Willingly. That was the worst part, he thought.

Severin, who had no talent in the way of prophecies, but plenty of talent in the realm of wind and sky, marched along the well-worn trail, static sparking around his fingertips as the brackish sea breeze nipped consolingly at his face and hair.

I will protect you if you ask me to, it blustered, and Severin was comforted.

He didn’t care who this foretold stranger was. When this enemy-lover appeared, Severin would ask the wind to pick them up and take them far, far away. Far enough that they could never harm him. The wind whistled in agreement. And so it was settled.

At seventeen, he was still all arms and legs, though his eldest sister had managed to tame his hair with a respectably sharp pair of shears. The wind, who had delighted in playing with his wild, tangled locks, did not thank her for it. Severin did thank her; in fact, he’d asked her to do it. He was of the opinion that his newly shorn hair made him look older - more sophisticated. And he left his family home with a new cloak draping his shoulders and a knotted wooden walking stick in hand, thinking himself very nearly a man. He was far from it, of course. But there was no telling him that.

He set out on a clear, cool morning to find his own way in the world, and was prepared to thoroughly deal with anyone who so much as dared to act ever so slightly in the manner of enemy or lover.

He discovered, soon enough, that this was not a practical attitude to take when venturing into the world. Severin spent his first months away from home making little in the way of friends and plenty in the way of thoroughly baffled enemies.

When you meet his gaze, you’ll know, the wind chided as it whisked in and out of his hood.

“His?” Severin said aloud, lifting a single dark brow. “Do you know something I don’t?”

The wind whistled noncommittally in answer.

The wind did know something, as it turned out. At twenty, Severin stood on the warm, sun-loved planks of a dock. As gulls cried overhead, he pressed his fingers to his lips. The young sailor had touched his lips to Severin’s in a swift, carefree kiss before departing on the sea. And though the feeling was pleasant enough, Severin knew that his enemy-lover was not on the great ship cleaving a path through the cerulean waves.

“When I meet his gaze, I’ll know,” Severin said, golden eyes sweeping the horizon. The seaward breeze blustered in such agreement that the gulls overhead cried out in alarm.

What will you do? The wind asked, delighting in whipping the gulls into a proper frenzy.

“Get rid of him, of course,” Severin replied.

What if you don’t want to?

Severin thought that was the stupidest question he’d ever heard. “He’s going to stab me through the heart. Why in the world wouldn’t I want to get rid of him?”

People are foolish, the wind answered, shrugging the nearby sails.

“Not me.” Severin leaned on his stick and looked out at the sea. “I won’t let anyone get away with stabbing my heart.”

When he was twenty-two, Severin knelt at the bedside of a withered, wilting woman. She was a stranger, but the town’s herb witch was away, and Severin happened to be passing through. Though his true strength would always remain with the wind and the sky, the youngest of Severin’s two aunts had a special way with plants, and she’d taught him a fair bit about the many healing properties of the region’s hardy, windblown flora.

He boiled water, adding the few herbs he carried to make a rejuvenating tea. He helped the woman drink, his hand supporting her head and fingers tangling in her sweat drenched hair. After, he pressed a cool cloth to her head, and in the half dark room, she murmured, sharing delirious fears that she would accidentally speak cruel dying words and lay a curse upon him.

Kindly stroking her forehead, Severin assured her that he was not afraid of curses. Even uttered by the dying, a true curse was rarer than the superstitious soldier’s and barbarians liked to believe. Besides, she wasn’t going to die. Severin, who’d seen just enough of the world to have a taste of wisdom, was certain he could save her.

She died within the day.

Whether her condition had been beyond help, or Severin lacked the skills to twist the herbs to his bidding, he would never know. The wind rustled reassurances through the sparsely-leaved trees, but Severin was beyond consolation. Clouds gathered on the horizon, and by nightfall, great branches of lightning crackled across the sky.

He spent the next year and a half in the wilds. Beneath the jubilant light of the sun, he collected plants, acquainting himself with the earth. And beneath the soft, watchful light of the moon, he whispered to the wind and dared to wonder at the shape of his enemy-lover’s face. He could never seem to summon the slightest picture in his mind. Though it really didn’t matter, he supposed. Their eyes would meet, and Severin would know. And then he’d use all of the power at his disposal to send his enemy-lover away.

During this time, Severin sometimes saw bands of barbaric warriors crossing the plains. He kept his distance, but he doubted any of them were interested in either recruiting or killing a scrawny young man in a worn woolen cloak. Few he encountered ever suspected he had any great abilities, and Severin certainly didn’t go out of his way to advertise the fact that he could command the wind and sky when he wished. The barbaric companies had their eyes on more obviously lucrative targets, anyway. A handful of city states which spread across the great peninsula were openly at war with the barbaric tribes from the north.

It was when Severin was returning from his self-imposed isolation that he had his first real encounter with war. He held his sturdy walking stick in hand and carried a bursting bag of herbs, poultices, and leather-bound journals over his shoulder. Severin was so surprised by the sudden, brutal clash of metal and the primal cries that erupted nearby that he halted where he stood. His curiosity both outweighed and outlasted his fear, and after a minute or two of tense consideration, he pressed cautiously onward in the direction of the noise.

By the time he arrived, the battle was done.

It had surely been an ugly, bloody affair, if the splayed out bodies of the city soldiers and barbaric warriors were anything to judge it by. Holding a hand over his mouth, Severin gingerly navigated the carnage and valiantly resisted the impulse to be sick right there in the field. He was nearly on the other side of it when movement caught his eye. Squinting, almost afraid to look, he glanced from the corners of his eyes, sure that it was some grotesque remnant of warfare which awaited him.

Instead, it was a man.

Just a man.

The movement Severin had spotted was the rise and fall of his chest.

Only after turning a careful look around the terrible and silent battlefield did Severin approach the fallen man.

The barbarian’s eyes were closed and his pale brows drew together, as if reflecting pain. His face would probably have been handsome in a rough, simple sort of way if it weren’t smeared in dirt and blood. His light hair, braided and pulled away from his face, was bloodied as well, and Severin frowned at the sorry state of him. After a second wary look around, he knelt with a sigh.

The barbarian’s leather vest was cut, and his thick, scarred arms had earned several new slices as well. Severin, who had more than enough herbs and poultices on hand, reluctantly tore his only spare shirt into bandages. Within the hour the stranger was fully bandaged and muttering in fever addled sleep.

“Don’t worry,” Severin murmured, knotting the last makeshift bandage. “I’ve learned enough from the plants and trees to save you from both fever and infection.”

Behind closed lids, the barbarian’s eyes flitted anxiously to and fro and he mumbled something that sounded like no. Nose wrinkling, Severin leaned in. He heard the sleeping barbarian say, his voice low and cracking, “The curses will take me.”

Severin frowned down at him, unimpressed. “No they won’t,” he snapped, and yanked the bandage tighter.

The barbarian silenced then, and Severin stared at him a moment longer, pursing his lips in consternation. It wasn’t that he minded using his supplies to heal a stranger. But a part of him worried that healing a warrior made Severin responsible for whatever slaughter he resumed when he rose.

Severin abhorred warfare. It was such a terrible waste. But he supposed there was no helping what he’d already done. The barbarian was already on his way to recovery, and Severin certainly wasn’t going to murder him in his sleep. He reached out, intending to test the temperature at the man’s temple, but no sooner had Severin’s fingers touched his overheated skin than the world bled around him. In its place: a vision.

Shock echoed through him, because he was not like the women in his family, able to see phantoms in time. He’d always simply played with the air. The vision dancing before his gaze, however, didn’t seem to care.

Like droplets of ink spreading in water, a prism of colors twisted, threading together into nearly tangible shapes. From the chaos, rose a blond child holding a knit sheep. He was ruddy cheeked and pouting up at his mother. Then ink and water swirled and the images collapsed and shifted. Hulking shadows loomed over the child. The mother wailed her grief. The formless ink shivered, morphing from one scene to the next, nearly too quickly to follow, and Severin was swallowed up in it, overrun and overwhelmed by violence, blood, and pain. Beneath his fingers, Severin felt the movement of shifting, slipping thread.

Just as abruptly as it had started, the vision ceased. Severin’s knees ached where they pressed against the dirt and the barbarian’s skin beneath his hand was no longer overheated. How long had he been within the vision’s grasp, he wondered?

As Severin shifted back, the barbarian groaned. Severin watched as the man’s eyelids fluttered - and at once, the air turned heavy, as if the wind had drawn and held an anticipatory breath.

Dread flooded Severin and he rushed to stand. The barbarian had not yet opened his eyes, and Severin knew with a terrible nameless certainty that he must not be here when this man awoke. Severin could still feel those elusive, unknowable threads beneath his fingers, and his hands shook as he rose. Awakened by his urgency, the wind roared, lending him speed as he fled the clearing.

By the time the barbarian cracked open a single, world weary eye, Severin was long gone, heart still safely beating in his chest.

Severin endeavored to forget about the barbarian. He convinced himself that the vision had been the hallucination of an overexerted body, and that the sensation of inexorably moving threads beneath his fingers was nothing more than a flight of fancy. Severin did not think about how the threads had felt - certain and unyielding - beneath his fragile, very mortal hands. If he did, he feared he might ask the wind to whisk him away from the world altogether, and that, surely, was no way to live.

In a deep, secret place, however, Severin suspected the reason he was granted such a vision was because the stranger’s thread was woven perilously close to his own. Because of this, he set upon an easterly road, endeavoring to put a healthy distance between himself and the pale barbarian.

After nearly a month of travel, he arrived in a small village which sat nestled in foothills, tucked beneath the shadows of great mountains which stood like sentinels above. Severin hadn’t intended to stay, but when it was discovered he had some skill with plants and medicine, the villagers eagerly led him to a hut some distance from the village. It was empty, they explained, and had been for some years. A healing woman had occupied it, some years back, before she’d passed on. The villagers had been saving it, hoping the space would be enough to entice a new healer to make their isolated village a home.

Severin had nowhere else to go, and he supposed a distant, mountain village was as good a place as any to avoid a blade to the heart.

Two years passed, and Severin settled into his little hut. He spent his mornings taking long walks around the surrounding lands, collecting herbs and specimens. Returning home, he’d throw open the windows to allow his friend the wind a brief but wild rampage through the hut. With the air freshened, Severin spread plants across his square dining table and sorted them into jars to be sealed, dried, or preserved in vinegar. His neighbors in the village visited frequently, just as often for his company as for his medicines, and Severin delighted in visiting the town on market days and making the streamers dance in the wind for the children. Evenings were spent in his rocking chair, with a book in his lap and his feet pressed near to the low fire in the hearth.

He was happy, and hardly thought of the barbarian he’d found bleeding in the dirt. That is, until fate caught up with him.

One day, when he was foraging for moss on the hillside behind his hut, Severin felt the whisper-soft touch of thread against his palm. He sat upright at once, and turning and craning his neck, he absently rubbed his palms against his robes.

A company marched into the village. From up on Severin’s hill, they appeared a swarm of ants overtaking the miniature thatched roof homes. The slipping, shivering feeling beneath Severin’s palm intensified, and he stood. His heart drummed a frantic beat against his ribs, and Severin felt with a terrible certainty that fate, like a hunting hound on the scent, had sniffed him out at last.

When Severin called out, begging the wind’s help, it rushed to him, howling atop the hill.

I am here. I am here.

Cradled in the gale, he begged the wind to take him and hide him away, so that the tapestry’s relentless threads might cease dragging him toward the one he never wished to meet.

So be it, the wind said. If that is truly what you wish, I will take you and hide you away forever.

In that moment, nearly caught as he was, Severin was willing to do anything to avoid meeting this man who would kill him - until the screams rose from the pastures in the valley beneath his hut. Severin’s heartbeat was in his throat, on his very tongue, as he held up a hand to stay the wind.

“Just a moment,” he murmured, and turned bright, pained eyes toward the village. The terrified screams of his neighbors pierced him as surely as any blade, and with a mournful twist of his fingers, he bade the wind disperse.

By the time he reached in the pastures, the shepherd, the blacksmith, and Helvia’s two sons lay dead. At the sight of his friend’s bodies, grief and rage stirred within Severin, and the wind, always nearby to him, trembled in sympathy. Gaze sweeping the warriors, he marked the five whose weapons were stained red. Severin was not violent by nature, but if he was to die this day, he resolved to remove from the earth at least these five men, who with bloodied blades, uncaringly spoke of feasting upon the village’s few precious sheep.

When the warriors turned and finally noticed Severin, he lifted his chin and prayed his voice did not betray his fear. “These are simple people. They have little in way of money or goods. It wasn’t for nothing that the shepherd, blacksmith, and teenagers died. They need these sheep. And I cannot allow you to take them.”

The men glanced at one another, eyes filling with a cruel sort of mirth. They laughed at him, and Severin steeled himself for what must come next. He was friends with the wind, but to call down the heavens was an entirely more serious matter. And he’d never done it. At least, not like this.

Severin turned his palms up and glared at the heavens, daring them to refuse him now when he needed them most.

For a long, terrible moment, nothing happened.

And then, the skies erupted.

He had never felt pure, visceral power in such a way, and as it whined and crackled, Severin, with splayed fingers, used all of his strength to tear the lightning from its home in the sky. It rained upon the warriors, screaming in wild, untamable fury. Severin watched the men cry out in agony, and he felt horror and satisfaction in equal measure.

When a single figure broke from the group, agile enough to evade the lightning and charge across the field, Severin could only look on in exhausted realization. It was the pale barbarian. The man from the battlefield. The child in the vision.

The barbarian charged like a beast, his thickly braided hair bouncing. His brows were drawn down in focus and his lips poised on the precipice of a snarl. It was with a hopeless sense of finality that Severin met the stranger’s gaze.

He met eyes of icy gray, the color of hazy, snow capped mountains in winter, and Severin knew, he knew with a certainty that was sunken into his bones and twisted in his marrow, that this barbarian was the shadow which had haunted him. And he knew, more than anything, the crude blade in the man’s scarred-knuckle hand was fate’s exclamation point at the end of Severin’s ephemeral existence.

Watching as the barbarian pivoted, drawing back his blade, Severin only wished he understood why the women in his family had persisted in calling this man Severin’s truest love. If this was love, the man had a spectacularly terrible way of showing it.

Time slowed to a crawl, and sunlight flashed, reflecting off the blade. As the jagged edge touched the fabric of Severin’s robe, the wind whispered at his ear. Let me show you a piece of the picture.

The wind around him froze, and so too did the world.

Look up, said the wind, a rustle within his ear.

Severin did.

The complexly woven image was shaped by currents in the air - all but invisible to any whose eyes are untrained to look for them. But Severin had a born understanding of the wind and sky, and when he looked up, he saw bits and pieces of an impossibly complex tapestry.

He saw scarred knuckles gently shaping wood. A small child that sat upon broad shoulders. Rocking chairs placed side by side before a glowing fire. Warm hands enveloping his own. Safety. Home.

It was...everything, and Severin’s heart ached with a strange and complex longing for a future that surely could never be.

It’s not impossible, the wind whispered. But the threads will have to tangle and untangle just perfectly so.

“How?” Severin asked, and wondered if he was a fool to feel so desperate a pull towards this life glimpsed in impressions and half images.

The warrior must weep and repent. And a curse must come to fruition.

“And if these things do not happen?”

Then your soul will fade from the earth.

Severin felt torn in two.

The blade has not yet struck your heart, the wind murmured, kind and conspiratorial. There is time still for me to secret you away. I could pull your thread from the tapestry altogether.

“But there would be no hope for that life,” Severin said with a last wistful glance at the scattered mosaic above.

No, none, the wind agreed.

“Okay,” Severin whispered, “okay.” And it felt terrifyingly like surrender.

The wind stirred, and a breeze like a kiss tousled his dark hair.

The blade struck.

It was an intense pressure and then swift, vibrantly blooming pain. Severin wavered on his feet, and looked up. For the second time, he met the warrior’s gaze. And Severin saw and understood that there was no malice in those wintry eyes. Not even frustration or anger. But, instead, an exhaustion deeper than Severin could conceive.

When Severin toppled backward, it was concerning to realize he could no longer feel the grass beneath his body. The man knelt down, and Severin blinked tiredly up at him.

It seemed as though the man were waiting for something. Severin’s slipping mind struggled to think of what - until he recalled the dying woman and her talk of curses. And hadn’t the barbarian said something about curses when he was fever addled and hurt? What had the wind said? Severin was struggling to remember. As his life trickled away in red rivulets which stained the grass and soil, he thought of the boy in the vision - lost and afraid. And he thought of the man he’d become, kneeling stonily over him.

And Severin knew exactly which words should be his last.

Swallowing, he mustered the strength to whisper, “-my hut…it’s just past…the next hill over. In it, I keep medicines and herbs. For the villagers. And travelers who pass.”

For the barbarian would have to stay if he were ever to show remorse. He couldn’t very well continue going about fighting and murdering his way across the peninsula. Which brought Severin to his final words. It took all of his remaining strength to lift his hand. When he reached out, the barbarian startled, as though he expected more lightning to spring forth from Severin’s fingers. But Severin merely tapped his chest and smiled. “May you live a life of safety and peace.”

It was a fitting curse, he thought, feeling particularly clever. And there, on the field, surrounded by sheep, Severin’s heart stuttered and stopped.

It was an abrupt, slipping sensation, like losing your footing on iced over earth. Raw existence rushed around Severin, and he was battered and blown about, like a banner torn loose in the storm. This continued for a dizzying moment, or perhaps a dizzying eternity - Severin really had no way of knowing which. But it stopped when a familiar presence surged around him, blowing and blustering until the wild chaos of existence was forced to let him be.

The wind could not protect him forever, Severin knew, and so he focused his energies until, like a wind sprite, he swirled about the hillside. Below him, he saw the barbarian, his great head bent. Severin, as incorporeal as a breeze, could not resist blustering over the barbarian’s shoulder and observing himself, limp and pitiful in death. Whipping around, he beheld the barbarian - because surely this sight would bring him at least to the verge of tears.

The barbarian frowned down at Severin’s body and rubbed a scarred hand over the patches of stubble on his chin. And then he rose with a great sigh and set off down the hillside, away from Severin and the village.

Severin, who was nothing more than wind and spirit, watched him and despaired. He could do nothing more than whip and howl through the hills as his murderer left him without a backward glance.

Months passed.

Severin did not follow after the barbarian. What good would it do? In this form, it wasn’t as though Severin could speak to him. And if he was doomed to fade and dissolve from existence, he would much rather do so here in the hills he loved than in some strange land trailing after an even stranger man. The wind kept him company, at least, and Severin spent his days whistling through the black, porous stones at the base of the mountains and blowing bits of dandelions across wild tufts of grass.

One day, long after Severin had begun to feel more spread out and thin than was entirely comfortable, the wind rushed to him, carrying with it the scent of dust and dirt and faraway lands.

The barbarian had returned.

Severin was an icy breeze that whipped around the edges of town, and he watched with cool distrust as the man trudged through the streets. His shoulders were slumped and his blond head was turned down. He looked utterly defeated, and any sympathy Severin might have felt was eclipsed by petty spite. He didn’t hold any of the pettiness against himself, though. He was dead, and therefore felt he’d earned at least a little pettiness.

When the barbarian crossed the field, stopping to stand before the place where Severin had fallen, Severin swirled around him, newly curious. The man didn’t look grief stricken, but his face was difficult to read. There were dark shadows beneath his eyes and lines of exhaustion around his mouth. Mostly, Severin thought he just looked tired.

When the man approached Severin’s home after having ignored the invitation for months, Severin had a second moment of pettiness and whipped the wind up on the other side of the door, sealing it closed as the barbarian tried to open it. Only when the man shoved it with his great, muscled shoulder did Severin retreat, allowing the door to swing open.

It was with a strange sort of melancholy that he watched the barbarian’s silver gaze sweep over the room. The man looked first at the damp, unkempt hearth before slowly making his way across the room. He glanced from Severin’s well-loved walking stick to the bookshelf built into the wall. He fumblingly ran the backs of his fingers along the spines of the books, as if he was unlearned in the ways of a gentle touch.

Severin was still very much put out about the whole being dead business, but as he watched the barbarian’s almost reverent inspection, he unthinkingly twisted the air in the room, drawing out the cold and pulling in a bit of sun warmed breeze.

By the second day, the man was sitting in Severin’s chair. Severin stewed, swatting at floating dust by the window as his killer rocked to and fro in Severin’s favorite seat. Later, the barbarian stood, stretching his strong arms overhead and twisted his back experimentally. Brows lifting in pleasant surprise, he gave the chair an appreciative pat.

By the third day, Severin had no more dust to swat about. The barbarian had rolled up his ragged sleeves and set about scrubbing every inch of Severin’s little hut. When the hulking man worked open the stiff windows, the wind rushed in, delighting in whipping about the space once more.

He’s done a better job of cleaning than you ever did, the wind sang, slipping once more outside.

He was dead and that meant the wind had to be nice, and Severin told it as much. It’s reply was a soft rustling of chimes that hung from the house’s eaves, and the sound was almost like laughter.

Days passed, and the man began reading Severin’s books. This was probably the most surprising development yet, in Severin’s opinion. It wasn’t that he hadn’t thought the large, scarred warrior capable of reading, just - well, he hadn’t thought the large, scarred warrior capable of reading particularly well. But the man seemed to be doing just fine, and sat in Severin’s rocking chair, putting a far greater strain on the sturdy wood than Severin ever had, as he thumbed carefully through the book’s smooth pages.

When little Mykela took ill, Severin knew it well before anyone else. He’d taken a spin through town and as he rode the wintry wind past where she played in the yard, he’d felt the rattle of air in her lungs. But at this point, Severin was little more than a memory on the breeze, and though his worry was agony, he could do absolutely nothing. He spent the rest of the day roaring about the mountain peaks, sending snow flurries spilling down the far side of the cliffs.

Two days later, Severin was idly observing the barbarian, watching the crease between his brows twitch as he slept, when a great pounding broke out against the door. The barbarian rose at once, and Severin watched him cast a brief glance at the walking stick before turning instead to the candle on a nearby shelf. With warm light cupped in his palm, the barbarian approached the door.

When Dormund, Mykela’s father, entered the hut, carrying a limp mound of blankets, Severin felt a spike of icy terror. As the barbarian poked and prodded the fire, Severin carefully stirred the wind to better feed the flames. Severin would have shouted instructions, had he lungs to shout, but the barbarian already had two jars in hand. He held them up, looking a little lost, before he hurried to the bookshelf and selected a thick book. Muttering under his breath, he flipped hurriedly through pages until he found what he was looking for. And then he was kneeling before the pot of water he’d set over the fire, and Severin watched as he scooped careful measurements of Severin’s dried herbs into the roiling water.

Mykela was saved, and as the barbarian sent the girl and her father off with a bag of herbs, it occurred to Severin that he wished to know the barbarian’s name. He wouldn’t learn it until two days later, when Old Cara arrived at the hut, seeking the barbarian’s help for her arthritic knee. After supplying her with the appropriate poultice, the barbarian helped her to the door, and looking up, she patted his shoulder and asked him his name.

Eindred, was his answer.

Eindred.

Severin wished he had lips to test the shape of the name.

Months passed, and was easier now to watch Eindred move about Severin’s hut. In fact, Severin had even begun to enjoy riding the soft breeze from the windows as it wafted around Eindred’s shoulders, curiously observing whatever small thing he happened to, at any given time, be doing with his hands. One day, Severin was surprised to find Eindred’s hands at work, deliberately whittling the curved back of a rocking chair. When the chair was done, Eindred set it carefully, almost reverently beside the first. At the sight, Severin had a bright, nearly overwhelming flash of recognition, and he thought of the image the wind had shown him - of the rocking chairs before a warm, crackling fire.

Severin was fading, he could feel it. To hope was to court a greater disappointment than Severin could rightly comprehend, and yet - he watched Eindred set out with Severin’s walking stick to join the festival, and saw when Mykela took his hand. The barbarian’s stony expression softened, then melted as the girl tugged him after her.

It was the strangest of sensations, because while Severin didn’t strictly have a heart these days, watching the great Eindred meekly follow little Mykela made something in Severin’s incorporeal being ache with unexpected warmth.

Whatsmore, Eindred had been reading Severin’s journals and he would sometimes stop and stare about the hut, as if trying to picture the ghost of Severin’s life there. Once, Eindred draped a thick blanket over the back of one of the rocking chairs and ran his rough hands over it as he frowned contemplatively into the fire.

Summer had come and gone and Severin feared that parts of his soul had already begun to slip into that other-place. And so, with a tender sort of weariness, he drifted on the sunbeams cutting through the clean window glass, and watched with only mild annoyance as Eindred carefully tore a blank page from one of Severin’s journals.

Lips pressing together in focus, Eindred wrote in with small, precise letters, what appeared to be a list.

Confused, Severin drifted closer.

May your every loved one die screaming in pain.

I hope you die with your eyes stabbed out and your heart in your hands.

You will never know happiness.

Your existence will be suffering.

It was a list of curses, Severin realized. Morbid curses, by the looks of it. The last two, however, caught his attention.

May your greatest enemy rise from the grave and never leave you alone.

And,

May you live a life of safety and peace.

And Severin understood.

When Eindred set out from the hut, looking drawn but resolved, Severin began at once to gather his energy. It had been nearly a year since his death, and he feared that there might not be enough of him left to make a return. The second to last curse would help things along, but Severin knew it would be a mistake to rely on it.

And so, as Eindred entered the village, Severin stretched upward and out, calling wind and storm clouds with reckless, hopeful abandon. For his entire life, Severin had lived, certain in the knowledge that love and happiness were not meant for one such as he. How could they be? When a blade was foretold to make a home in his heart?

But Eindred had changed. And the patchwork pieces of tapestry were there, a life Severin had never dared to dream of, right there - if he could only summon the strength to reach out and grasp it.

Below, Eindred bowed his head before the townsfolk, confessing his part in the tragedy which played out on their soil. Above, Severin swallowed the skies and became the storm.

Severin felt it, distantly below, when the people in the village forgave Eindred. And he felt when Eindred’s bittersweet tears tickled the earth. He felt Eindred return to the hut, and then after pacing restlessly about, return at last to the pastures where it had all begun.

And then came Eindred’s pained voice, calling out from the fields below. “Severin!”

Eindred had never said his name before, and Severin, who was the clouds and the wind and the rain and the sky, rumbled his joy at the sound of it.

“It was my hand which ended your life,” Eindred continued. His deep voice was shaking. “And with your dying breath you gifted what I thought was a nightmare. Did you know that it would turn out to be a dream? I think you did.”

Just wait, Severin wanted to tell him, because he’d seen a future better still. The only question that remained was whether he had strength enough to reach it.

Rugged face upturned, Eindred called to Severin and the sky, which were one and the same. “Though it’s a dream, I’ll never know peace. How can I? When I live in the home of the one I so coldly murdered? I would leave, but the villagers have my heart - as they had yours. In this state, I don’t think I’ll ever truly know true rest or true peace - despite the great power of your curse.”

You will, Severin said, and lightning streaked across the sky. I will.

“Even now,” Eindred said, through wind and rain, “I’m not sure if you are my greatest enemy or ally.”

There it was.

His greatest enemy.

Severin, with every ounce of power he possessed, claimed the title. For he was the greatest enemy the old Eindred, warrior and killer, had faced. With his parting curse, Severin had forced the old Eindred to do the one thing he’d feared most of all: to live and face all he’d done.

Severin felt a rushing, coursing energy thrumming within and without and he knew that he must catch it and hold it, though he wasn’t sure how.

The tapestry threads, the wind whispered. Severin had spread so thin, his old friend was nearly a part of him now.

Severin listened, and felt for that thread which had teased and tickled his palm. And when he was sure he felt it, he wrapped himself around it and pulled. The sky around him screamed as he dragged himself forward toward something - something -

White light was all around him, and then it wasn’t. The air was cool and damp, and the evening sang with the wind’s gleeful gusts and the soft patter of rain on grass. Severin lifted a hand, and looked it over in tentatively blooming relief. Pressing the hand over his heart which beat with a strong, steady rhythm, Severin breathed a relieved, ragged sigh.

Eindred stood in the field, turned away from him. Drawing in a breath, Severin delighted in the sound of his own voice. “May your greatest enemy rise from the grave, Eindred, and never leave you alone.” He smiled as he spoke, and very nearly pressed his fingers to his lips to feel the shape they took when saying Eindred’s name.

Eindred turned. “So you are my greatest enemy then?” He sounded wary.

“I don’t think it’s so simple as that. Do you?”

Eindred’s expression shifted and he shook his head. When he next spoke, it was soft and fumbling, as if he still hadn’t fully adjusted to a world which was kind. “I made a chair,” he blurted out. “A few actually,” he added, rubbing a hand over the back of his head.

Severin wanted to say, I know. I saw. But that would require more explanation than he cared to give at the moment, so instead, he replied, “Do I get the new rocking chair or my old one?”

“Any,” Eindred stammered, “Either. Both?” He looked at Severin, and the earnest weight of his gaze held the promise of all the chairs Severin could want and anything else Eindred could possibly make with his scarred hands.

The fondness that bubbled up within Severin was so abrupt and filled him so thoroughly that he wanted to laugh with it. “Lucky for you, I only need one chair. You can keep the old one if you like it. I trust your craftsmanship.”

Severin turned then, because it was cold and every part of him felt so entirely bright and buoyant that he thought he might die if he didn’t move. However, when he realized Eindred was not following, he stopped. “Well? Are you coming?”

Eindred looked up, as if he’d been startled. “Where?” he called.

Standing there, sodden in the field, Eindred looked after Severin, as if he was afraid to hope - as Severin once had been afraid to do. And it occurred to Severin that Eindred would need to hear it said aloud.

“Home, of course. Where else?”

“Home,” Eindred repeated, as if confirming it to himself.

And when Severin turned again towards home, Eindred followed.

By the time they reached the hut, both were shivering from the cold, and as they crossed the threshold into the warm space, Severin swayed on his feet. He’d almost forgotten the immense power he’d used, and now the harsh ringing in his ears was a stark reminder. Warm, rough hands steadied him and when Severin tilted his head up, he saw that Eindred wore an expression of poorly concealed terror.

“I’m not going to die all over again,” Severin assured him. “I just used a lot of magic.” As he said it, he swayed once more, this time falling forward.

Eindred caught Severin again, one arm wrapped around his back and his other hand braced against his chest. Beneath where Eindred’s palm pressed, Severin’s heart thrummed. And Severin watched, curious, as Eindred’s expression twisted. He no longer claimed the title of warrior, Severin knew, but it was nonetheless with a warrior’s gravity that Eindred met Severin’s gaze.

“These hands will never again harm you. I swear it.”

“I know,” Severin replied, and pressed a hand over the back of Eindred’s rough knuckles. “Help me to a chair?”

Eindred did, and helped to remove Severin’s thick outer robe before Severin sank gratefully in front of the fire. Eindred left him a moment, and Severin closed his eyes.

He intended to just rest them for a second - maybe two, but when Severin next opened his eyes, the room was darker and he was draped and bundled in blankets, softer and thicker than any he recalled owning. The fire was still crackling, and the warm light made soothing shadows dance across the hut’s wooden floor. The other chair was occupied, Severin realized, and he watched as the hearth’s orange light played across Eindred’s sleeping features. Compared to Severin’s mountain of blankets, he had just one draped over his lap, though he didn’t seem cold. Nonetheless, Severin shifted a bit, and peeled a soft fleece blanket off his own pile to toss it onto him. The blanket fell short, and with a quick whispered word, the wind slipped under the door and flipped the offending blanket up onto Eindred’s chest.

“That’s better,” Severin said.

The wind played a little with the fire before tousling Severin’s hair and departing with a sibilant, save your strength foolish human. You’re still recovering, and slipped out the way it had come.

When Severin turned back to Eindred, he saw the large man was sitting up and his eyes were now open. Blinking, Eindred rubbed a hand over his face and then, stiffening in sudden shock, he whipped to look at Severin. Heaving a great sigh, he rocked back in the chair. “Still breathing,” he said.

“I don’t plan on stopping.”

Something almost like a smile twitched at Eindred’s lips and Severin was enchanted by it.

“You were dead and now you’re alive. Forgive me. I’m still trying to wrap my head around it.”

“You’re the one who believes in silly curses.”

Eindred’s brows rose. “Silly? Says the one who was brought back from the dead by one.”

Severin waved a dismissive hand. “The curse might have set the stage, but I was director, crew, and cast.”

And there was another smile, like a glimpse of sun between clouds. Severin was beginning to fear there might be no practical limit to the lengths he’d be willing to go to see another smile.

“I’ll take your word for it,” Eindred replied. “I get the feeling you know a great deal more about the world and magics than I.”

“Well Eindred,” Severin said, scooting his chair a little closer to both Eindred and the fire. “What do you know of grand tapestries?”

Eindred, looking more than a little lost, shook his head. “Nothing. I don’t know that I’ve ever seen one.”

“Well,” Severin said, and grinned. “What do you know of cheese?”

EDIT: A novel based on Eindred and the Witch and The Witch Who Spoke to the Wind is in progress! I will post news about it on my Tumblr and my Patreon as news becomes available :)

#my writing #original writing #my story #Eindred and the Witch #original story #fantasy #fantasy story #love story #eindred the warrior #severin the witch #writing #writeblr #short story #long short story #7000+ words #fantasy short story #amwriting #story

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miekasa · 3 years

Note

mie.. i’m going into another eren phase.. so can you pls tell me your fav boyfie eren hcs…

Yeah, why not. I have so many random ones because he is my boyfriend <333 so here you gp

sfw

Eren doesn't actually work out all that often. He’s always been athletic, so his exercise comes in the form of playing sports, but he doesn’t really go to the gym outside of playing/practice.

Loves cake pops, more often than not “treats himself” to one after an exam or assignment, or whenever he feels like it lmfao. He basically eats it all in one bite, keeps the stick in his mouth to fidget with until he finds a trashcan.

Likes seeing you in his hoodies because, well, it’s his hoodie on you; but mostly because of the size of the actual hood on you. He thinks it’s so funny but also pretty cute how the hood alone swallows you up.

Grocery shopping with you is one of his favorite activities. He rarely goes by himself—if not with you, then with Mikasa or Armin—and all he really does is follow you around the store and occasionally put some stuff in the cart, but he still loves it. He likes running and then jumping on the cart like it’s a scooter.

No matter how many makeup tutorials he watches, or how many times he watches you do your own makeup, he doesn’t really understand how it works lmfao. He likes watching it, and he thinks you look pretty if wearing makeup is your thing, but he baffles him how a little tube of concealer brightens your under eye.

Speaking of which, he sits criss cross applesauce either on your bed or on the toilet if you’re in the bathroom, while he watches you do your makeup. Counts the steps in his head, always confuses the contour and bronzer. It’s okay, he’s learning.

He both likes and dislikes FaceTime. He likes the convenience of it (and will abuse it by calling you even tho you’ve just barely left his house), but he would much rather just go and see you; so he does. Unless there’s something keeping you apart, Eren will make the effort and the trip to go and see you, even if it’s late at night.

He gets warm very easily, but always has some sort of coat/outerwear on him, even if it’s just a light windbreaker. He usually ends up hanging it over your shoulders or telling you to wear it because you “look cold” when he wants to take it off.

He walks just like a half step behind you; technically still by your side, but trailing you by the tiniest amount. That way he gets to be with you and watch you, and also steer you away from anything/anyone else he sees ahead while you’re walking.

If he notices your shoelaces are untied, he gently pokes your shoulder to get you to stop, then bends down and ties them for you.

His phone case is brown leather, and has your initials engraved at the very bottom in a very tiny, dark green font.

Likes walking around with you at night so congrats on having your own personal guard dog for Safety lmfaoo. Sometimes you guys don’t even talk; he just wants to hold your hand and wander around, and just be with you for a little bit.

He is the one putting hair ties on YOUR gear shift and around YOUR wrist. Marking his territory lmfaooo

Learns to like coffee in college, and learns your Starbucks order pretty quickly. He’s got a very small addiction, but he always buys you a cup when he gets his own, so at least it’s beneficial for you. He doesn’t usually have much an extreme sweet tooth, but he takes his coffee with quite a few pumps of syrup and/or sweetener.

Eren loves hugs, and once he starts getting them, he refuses to go with out them. Back hugs are his favorite, whether it be you hugging him from behind, or him doing it to you; either works for him, both feel like heaven.

You know when it’s time to head home after a party/hanging with your friends because Eren will drape himself over you and gradually apply more of his body weight the more tired/drunk he gets. Regardless of whether or not he’s sloshed, he’ll still press very light and innocent kisses onto your neck and ears.

Turns out he really likes getting kisses on his cheeks. It always takes him by surprise; his eyes widen and his eyebrows raise just a bit, but he usually evens out his expression before you pull back, so you don’t see. What you do see is the sorta glazed over, happy look in his eyes, and if you look closely, you might see his pupils dilate, too.

He actually doesn’t mind reading, he just never thinks to read in his free time. When he does remember, and what he’s reading is interesting to him, he finishes the book pretty quickly—a few days, maybe a week at most—it’s kind of impressive. Then he goes on to not look at another book for a good five months lmfao.

Asked you what detergent and fabric softener you used on your sheets, then bought the exact same products to do his laundry with.

He picks you up pretty often. It’s not always tossing you over his shoulder, or carrying you bridal style, but if he needs to get to something behind you in the kitchen he’ll just. Just pick you up, turn, plop you down, get what he needs, pick you up, turn around again, and plop you right back into place. Like a doll.

Actually very good and very meticulous when it comes to cleaning. Not a single hard water stain in sight on your dishes. Sparkling countertops and tables, your oven has never looked shinier than when he’s done with it.

Doodles on his notes when he’s bored in class. Doodles on your notes if he’s bored in class and you’re there, too.

He claims to not get jealous easily, but he definitely does. His methods of dealing with it are either to (a) pout (usually only happens when he gets jealous of someone you’re telling him about), (b) find an excuse to pull you away from this other person, (c) be extremely cold to this other person, (d) pretend to be sick/tired/hungry as an excuse for you to be concerned about him/dote on him in front of this other person (this is his favorite method).

Will push your phone down/into your face if you’re laying down using it or just scrolling through your feeds. Thinks it’s peak comedy, always runs away with a little shit grin on his mouth.

He’s always tuned into you, and sometimes physically turned to you, even in a larger conversation with other people around. Finds a way to pull you into the convo if you’ve been on the quieter side, nudges at your side under the table to bother you when you’re distracted, frequently looks at you even if someone else is talking.

nsfw/suggestive

Eren really likes lazy sex, and it’s arguably one of his favorites; and for someone who’s not a morning person, he sure does like morning sex. He does this thing where he wakes up at like eight in the morning, starts feeling up on you, and eventually very lazily fucks you before you even have the chance to say good morning, then crashes and sleeps for another two hours. Sometimes he doesn’t pull out.

Always gets hard when you do try on hauls of the new clothes you’ve bought; whether it be via FaceTime or in person. You could be showing him your new sweatpants, and he’ll still find it sexy.

Can and will find time to grope you whenever possible. Getting water from the kitchen means you’re getting your ass smacked while you open the fridge. Putting on your shoes also means you’re getting your ass smacked when you bend over. Standing around debating on what to wear for the day means he’s coming up behind you to put his hands on your boobs. Doing your skincare routine in the bathroom means he’s got his hands on your hips squeezing at your skin.

Likes being bitten. Will tell you to bite him; he’ll lean down while he’s fucking you, smile wickedly when you grab and claw at his back, and you’re gasping against his shoulder, “Wanna hurt me? Go ahead, baby, do your worst.”

He loves making out with you, even if it doesn’t lead to sex; actually, sometimes, he prefers it that way. You make his head spin just by kissing him, and there’s a special kind of bliss of just rutting against each other without fucking that he loves.

Lovesssss taking mirror selfie’s with you on his lap and your back to the mirror, especially right after sex. Your head resting on his shoulder and he just barely murmurs, “Stay right there, don’t move.” Might start a collection of pics like that.

Tugging on his ear acts as encouragement, but somewhat surprisingly, that sole action doesn’t necessarily turn him on; it doesn’t turn him off, and he likes it, but it’s more... soothing? than sexual to him. What you should do instead is put your hand on the back of his neck/touch the hair near his nape.

He could have done all the work, but will still wrap you in his arms and kiss your head and tell you how good you are, how good you were to him. He really does think you fucked him 9/10 times and takes pride in it too lmaooo

Holds your jaw open with one hand, presses the index and middle fingers of his other hand against your tongue, and watches your spit pool around him. He exhales slowly at the sight, moving his fingers around to coat them evenly before pulling them out of your mouth and separating them; watches a thin line of spit connect them and groans.

Holds you jaw a lot, actually: when you’re kissing, when you’re blowing him, when he’s on top and fucking you, when he’s fucking you from behind, he’ll pull you up with one hand, use two fingers and turn your head to the side so he can kiss you.

It’s him that kinda loses it first most of the time; that gets that fucked out, hazy look in his eyes, that makes everything feel like too much so his head drops to your shoulder and he resorts to biting at your neck to further stimulate you.

Likes sucking on your tongue when you kiss. Falls in love with you all over again on the spot when you do it back to him.

You could just barely put your hands on him and Eren will groan, mutter about how you’re so sexy and how badly he wants to fuck you. Could just lay back with your chest heaving from kissing him and he’s got hearts in his eyes and his dick is hard.

#anonymous #sick and twisted and lovely and precious my boyfriend ladies and germs!!!!!#eren x reader #aot x reader #eren fluff #eren smut #eren jaeger x reader #eren.ask

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suna-reversed · 4 years

Note

Hello :)

Sukuna. fluff. Pretty please.

Could you write something about sukuna falling for itadori's best friend. You can throw some angst in there too because I am a masochist❤️

Sukuna x F! Reader

oh god, this turned purely self indulgent halfway through. low key thinking of turning this into a series to give you the angst you deserve.

A/N: (reader is Itadori’s senior and is 18) (loosely inspired by the song “me and my husband” by mitski)

“And I am the idiot with the painted face

In the corner, taking up space

But when he walks in, I am loved, I am loved”

——-

- You had been one of the few poor senior students who had been victim to what had been Itadori’s “elevator pitch” for more people to join the occult club early back in high school. [the said “elevator pitch” being him jumping out at random people with a white bedsheet over his head saying “boo” as he handed you the club form]

- You didn't end up joining the club. But you somehow did end up getting joined at the hip with the chaotic mess under the white sheet.

- Whether it was you two rushing to the theatre to watch Jennifer Lawrence’s new movie, or going to a revolving sushi place [only to get pocky from a nearby vending machine instead because revolving sushi is apparently expensive], Itadori Yuuji had become a comforting and very important presence in your life.

- So of course when he suddenly dropped out of your life, being the worried friend you were, you decided to poke around a little only to find out that he was...dead?

- Maybe a few months down the line, you would’ve started to slightly recover from the tragic news you had just gotten. Instead, what you got was your supposedly dead best friend popping up days later to tell you that he ate a finger and now he was the vessel for some centuries old curse,,,

- Um yeah...safe to say that Yuji did not expect you to go into the fit of emotions that you did [boy had the audacity to call you dramatic for fainting and then crying while hugging him once you gained consciousness]

- some time passed and Yuji and you didn’t see each other much with him practically training to be the strongest jujutsu sorcerer. Still, simply happy to have him back alive, your brain managed to convinced itself that everything was still the same.

- And it was when he’d sneak out a day or two from his heavy schedule and you’d be back to your normal routine of watching movies, stuffing your face with snacks, getting your face licked by the mouth on Yuji’s hand…

- ,,,wait what

- The first time the curse had made contact with you was simply out of annoyance of why the stupid brat even took the time to see someone as mundane as you so often.

- His plan was to simply scare you into leaving, knowing it would cause the brat pain.

- So he grabbed the opportunity when Yuji moved forward to brush off some popcorn dust on the side of your mouth, not only licking the side of your face but also being successful in slightly grazing his teeth against your tender skin.

- Yuji had mentioned that being a vessel had caused some weird physical “abnormalities” for him. you didn’t understand it back then but at least knowing that had sort of prepared you for such an instance.

- So imagine the curse’s surprise [and an even further growing annoyance] when your eyes barely widened for a second before you burst into laugher,

“Didn’t you train your dog to not bite?”

- by now, Yuji had jumped 5 feet away from you and was still halfway through his string of apologies, but upon hearing your reaction, he mused on your fake calm while letting out a chuckle himself,

- “Guess I’ve got to get a leash for him”

- By this point, the ever so indifferent curse had taken two teenagers talking about him like a mere annoyance as a personal challenge.

- And that’s how it started.

- He’d come out every now and then, licking your fingers as Yuji passed you something or making lewd remarks on anything and everything that you ever started a conversation about.

- But you and Yuji barely paid him attention and it was an understatement to say that it infuriated the living hell out of him.

- Particularly you, who wouldn’t even be annoyed or sarcastic about his tactics anymore. Instead, treating him like a friend who was simply joining you and the brat to hang out.

- He hated it. Hated how bright your laugh was. Hated how you made them stop every time you saw a stray animal just so you could pet it. Hated how your skin was as soft as a cloud and how you sometimes smelled like cherry blossoms. He’d kill you in an instant if he could ugh.

- it was a weekend and Yuji and you had been watching a movie, even though Yuji was barely paying attention. You knew he was tired as his large frame slumped over your shoulder. Pulling the blanket up to his face, you once again felt the wet feeling of the assaults you had grown familiar with on the side of your hand.

- “You could’ve just asked for a pocky if you wanted one, no need to lick it off my fingers you grumpy little thing”, you laughed as you stood up to go to the bathroom

- that snapped the final string.

- Coming back into your living room, you wondered if Yuji had somehow gotten up in his sleep and managed to draw weird black lines over himself all in the span of 5 minutes.

- ‘Yuji, what the fuck?’

- ‘Well well, now who’s acting like a grumpy little thing’

- The deep voice sent rumbles down your spine and you knew in an instant what had happened.

- Even though your breath hitched in your throat and your body begged for you to run as fast away as you can, you held your ground as you simply tilted your head at the curse

- “Well, I’d like my best friend back if you don’t mind.”

- You saw the smirk on Sukuna’s face falter for just a second before he crossed the space between the couch and you.

- Now as strong of a front as you managed to hold up until now, watching something like that stride straight towards you would have had even the strongest of sorcerers shitting bricks.

- Instinctively, you took a few steps backwards, but he simply continued to close the distance between the two of you until you were backed up against the wall.

- You flinched as he slammed a hand right next to your head and he seemed to gain immense satisfaction from that as he looked down at your startled face with a smirk plastered on his tattooed face.

- Sukuna was sure that you’d be begging for his mercy any second now. His smirk widened and he was ready to mock your pleas as he saw you open your mouth to say something,

- “ ...so much for a damn pocky.”

- All those other times you had caught the curse off guard were nothing compared to the “partially-confused partially-baffled” expression that he held on his face now. It almost made him look human. Almost.

- You didn’t realise just how long you were holding his gaze until Yuji took back control and apologized like a million times over, reassuring you that he would’ve never let you get hurt.

- The curse didn’t show up for almost a week after that. And while you were grateful for not having to wash off your hands or face 14 times a day, you somehow felt anxious about its sudden disappearance.

- All those worries were thrown out the window as he once again showed up while Yuji was passed out on the couch after a particularly tough session with Gojo sensei.

- Looking at the curse, you felt anger more than anything, how could he just drop out on you with no warning and then show up in the middle of your living room- ...wait a second, why the hell are you mad at a literal curse for not telling you he was taking a mental health break or whatever it was that he was doing?

- While you sorted out through these conflicting thoughts in your mind, the curse seemed to be going through a similar crisis.

- Having woken up in the brat’s fragile human body with no warning whatsoever, Sukuna wasn’t in the mood to see your face so soon again. He didn’t know why your physical presence unsettled him so much. All he knew was that he hated it. Even more now that he knew what you looked like all scared and small compared to his vessel’s towering build, and how you smelled even sweeter than what he had tasted, and how despite all that you still had the courage to stand up to someone as dangerous as him. Ugh, disgusting.

- “The stupid brat passed out.”

- Such a simple statement caused you to snap your head up at him. But he didn’t wait for your reaction as he somehow managed to plop down on the couch while still looking graceful. Picking up the half eaten box of pocky, he warily pulled one out, eyeing it as if it was a poisoned dagger before breaking off a piece and placing it on his tongue.

- “This is what you would risk your life for, brat?”

- He turned his head slightly to look at you still frozen in place, staring at him with that doe eyed look that made his chest burn a little. Isn’t this what he wanted all along?

- “Are you simply going to stand there and gawk? I don’t bite-...well, not unless you ask me to.”

- He knew that would set you right back to your usual self,

- “...maybe we do need to get a leash after all.”

- Sukuna internally grinned as he saw you move to the other side of the couch, ready to hear whatever more of the snarky comeback that you’d have (not that he was anticipating it, it was just the better alternative to being gaped at. Or so he told himself)

- “You ate the non chocolate covered part of the pocky by the way-”

- “As if a layer of this disgusting brown substance can make the rotten stick taste bette-”

- “Well aren’t sticks all you had to eat in yOuR TiME anyways?”-

—-

- You somehow managed to fall asleep after the bickering, proceeding to sit in silence after you told him to not bother you while you tried to read. You wouldn’t admit it, but you were a little disappointed when he actually didn’t. Instead, he sat on the couch with a slight smirk still plastered on his face, continuing to simply gaze at you. your heart did lunges every time you slyly looked up from your book to take a peak at him. you wondered how many ways he had come up with to kill you so far.

- On the other hand, the curse sat idly, watching you while his thoughts rumbled in his mind. Maybe killing you can be pushed off the agenda for now. There are much better ways to hurt the brat anyways aren't there? Perhaps he could use one of these brownish covered sticks to-...what is he thinking?

- He ultimately deems it stupid brat’s humane emotions and sheer stupidity that must be interfering with his thoughts.

- A loud sneeze snaps him out of his daze as he sees you slumped against a pillow, your book falling off your lap. And then he does something that he immediately decides that he would pretend to have not done for the rest of his existence. Luckily, the brat takes back control right after he does it anyways.

- But that thought slips his mind as he finds himself replaying the serene look on your face as he gently pulled the book out of your hands, and how his hands shook a little as you nuzzled your nose into the fabric of the blanket that he pulled over you. How could you have felt so calm around him?

#jujutsu kaisen #jjkxreader #jujutsukaisenxreader #yujiitadori #sukuna fluff #sukuna x reader #itadori x reader #sukuna #sukuna headcanons #jjk headcanons #sukuna smut #gojo saturo x reader #jujutsu Kaisen headcanons #jujutsu kaisen hcs #sukunafluff

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captnjacksparrow · 3 years

Text

SNS Dynamics - Sasuke's Perspective

Lengthy post ahead

On completing my rewatch of Naruto part I and part II, many things which never made sense started to make sense. One among them is the relationship between Naruto and Sasuke. I used to ask why Naruto is going so far for Sasuke. And why Sasuke is helping out Naruto even though he wants to kill him. And I used to think that Episode 478 was retconned to make the final battle ends in a draw and Sasuke somehow made to reconcile with the titular character. Yet, I instinctively felt, ‘Something is very different about them’. But on careful rewatch, all the clues which consolidate their relationship was there. The way they love each other is totally on a different level and the creator very carefully planned this from the beginning of the Manga.

Though I really don’t like the ending for making every characters into a child rearing machine at an age of 20 to make way for an abomination called ‘Boruto’, I still loved everything till Episode 479.

I wanted to discuss about both Naruto and Sasuke's perspective. But that cannot be accommodated in a single post. So, I decided to start with Sasuke. Since Naruto's side of SNS is very open and vocal, we clearly knew what is going on in his mind. But Sasuke's side is usually very subtle but much more intense than Naruto which makes it worth analyzing.

Before getting to that, for most of the characters in the Naruto universe (I mean 99%), Sasuke is a person who looks cool, aloof, rude, overbearing, blunt, genius and emotionless. And that’s the truth. Except for Itachi and Naruto. So when I say he is rude or arrogant, it is from the people’s POV. And since I always see myself in Itachi, I see Sasuke as that adorable innocent child who is very honest but forgiving.

I strongly feel that Sasuke has some innocent enchantment towards Naruto ever since he lost his family which later transcended into a bond which cannot be put under Friendship or Bromance. Enchantment, here I meant by, is not in a sexual way but more like the unconscious need to be in the presence of other person. Like walking beside each other eternally. Or even warming up next to a campfire near a chilly beach. You don’t want to fall into the fire but just enjoy the warmth. It maybe totally a platonic love like many claims to be. But his absolute disinterest in any other characters (even just as a friend) and the following traits he shows only to Naruto are clearly not just distinctive of platonic love either. It’s completely beyond platonic.

The following are the traits which Sasuke shows only towards Naruto, could have been avoided or delegated to other characters if the creator really wanted to assert their relationship as just friendship. There are lot of subtexts and emotions which I cannot accept it under the guise of bromance or friendship. It’s just not possible. If someone you like shows all these traits to another person, you should stop thinking about that person and move on.

The traits are :

Preferential Treatment

Attentive

Protective

My body moved on its own

One and Only

Powerful Eyes

Unconscious Closeness

Preferential Treatment

This is the very basic and first thing you show to someone whom you love. Meaning, I will treat this person much different from everyone else. When I was exploring this trait, I couldn’t stop laughing in many places. Because Sasuke is such a trolling machine who mercilessly trolls people who are in his way. He also inspire certain amount of fear which makes him even more unapproachable.

He has this cold bearing where people find it extremely difficult to manage or approach him. It comes off as very rude most of the times. One such example is Sai told Sasuke that he will get along better with him than Naruto. Sasuke put a Genjutsu on him for comparing himself with Naruto. LOL.

What's more funny is most people (Sakura, Orochimaru, Kabuto, Sai, Hinata) usually talk to him politely with honorifics like 'Sasuke-kun'. But he didn't give two shits about them and shitted them all mercilessly.

Here is the infamous proposal from Sakura in part 1.

Well she deserved this one to be honest. Throughout the entire conversation Sasuke never saw her face and responded very bluntly even though she was pouring her heart out crying. There was no visible distress or sadness from Sasuke’s side.

Whereas with Naruto, in the final Valley of The End, we saw him turning towards Naruto and answer him properly when Naruto asked the same question of what Sakura asked. There were so many emotions throughout the battle and Sasuke’s pain of leaving Naruto was clearly shown. Which explains the difference of where Sasuke keeps Naruto in his heart.

The following is the one from Chunin Exams prelims where Sakura is begging for him to quit with tears. The response is an usual 'Stay out of my business'.

Me: Sasuke!!!! Even I don't know how to approach you!!!! I understand you don't like to talk unnecessarily so you just shitted on Sai. But Sakura is your teammate, isn't it?

And then there is this little orange blonde who literally trolls Sasuke.

I really thot Sasuke was going to trash Naruto too, like he could have easily said, 'Naruto, you should also stay out of my business'.

But then

These words are something precious for Naruto. He wished for these words to come from Sasuke someday in his lifetime. But not at that time. And he was truly shocked and very excited. Believe me, when watching that scene, it was really great. But while making analysis like this, it’s absolutely hilarious.

This dynamics is similar to

Sakura: *cries unbearably* Sasuke-kun, I am worried about you. Don’t act so strong.

Sasuke: Shut up. Mind your own business.

Naruto: Bastard! She is worried about you.

Sasuke: Alright, I love you. Now shut up.

ROOOFFFFL :-D

I thought all these childhood bickers were over by part 1 and we will never see it in part 2.

Nope. I was wrong. Kakashi and Sakura were the scapegoats here.

Here's another round of applause from Naruto.

And I honestly cannot comprehend what was going on in Sasuke's mind and why he is really rude to Sakura and Kakashi. It seems he was really irritated by their presence or he maybe thinking they were useless or both.

When Naruto asks him something, he responds without any insults. What baffles me most is that during Infinite Tsukuyomi, Sasuke wanted to kill Naruto for his Revolution and awaiting his fated battle. And yet he answers him properly.

Can you see the pattern here?

He shits on people asking some question even with an utmost polite attitude but when Naruto asks the same question he was like "Alright Sweetie, Am gonna answer anything you want and say anything you like".

The following is the beginning of everything where Naruto can't even swear properly but still Sasuke couldn't even bother.

In short, the way he treats Naruto is quite different and hilarious when compared to the others. With his cold bearing, he absolutely has no need to put up with Naruto's outburst but he still accepts without a care every time. RIP to those souls who got the short end of the stick.

He must have an extreme tolerance towards Naruto's tirades to the point where he can never insult him back. And I also believe 100% that, nobody dares to make such frequent insults on Sasuke to his face except Naruto.

I know SK shippers jump in here to say Naruto is not the only one. But still the dynamics between Karin and Sasuke is simply a mirror image of Naruto and Sasuke, probably she reminded him of Naruto and hence made some exceptions for her because Sasuke never gives a damn about any other clan other than his own, but when Kabuto tells him Karin belongs to Uzumaki clan, he was shocked. I am pretty sure the only other Uzumaki member he knew is none other than Naruto.

Now, does this means he is in super love with Naruto? No.

But the way he treats every other characters and how he treats Naruto exclusively speaks volumes and this trope shouldn’t have existed in the first place. The creator should have made Sasuke treat both of his teammates equally which could’ve deflected the shipping angle.

Attentive

Am not talking about how attentively he analyzes his enemies in the battles. Of course, in that department, Sasuke flies high. This is about how attentive he is to Naruto to the point where he can deduce what Naruto thinks and how Naruto looks without the need to communicate with him.

I know Sasuke suspected Sakura was acting strange before Chunin Exams when she said 'Good Morning' with some hesitation. But the difference here is that Sasuke can identify Naruto without even talking to him.

Funny thing here is that Sasuke was sitting somewhere far behind from Naruto and yet he could pick up Naruto getting freaked out without seeing his face.

Who could forget about the famous ‘Where’s real Naruto?’ episode during Chunin Exams?. It would’ve been fine if this happened once. But the creator went ahead and made this thing happen twice under entirely different situations. And everytime Sasuke can find fake Naruto without fail. This scene conveys Sasuke is very observant towards Naruto’s appearance & fighting skills (the way he evades an attack).

Now, being attentive to someone is not a special thing which attributes to love. But considering Sasuke’s personality who is aloof and focused on his own world, knowing Naruto like the back of his hand is way too descriptive. Only someone who really understands the other person or constantly paying attention can find out such subtle changes. It doesn’t end here.

This is the battle between Gaara and Naruto. Where Naruto was literally confused about how to save his friends from Gaara who is much more powerful. And yet Sasuke can find Naruto’s mood just by seeing him.

Me: Yes, Sasuke!!! Gaara happened to pass by Naruto and forgot to kill him on a whim!!! So, Naruto is scared to the shit!!

Also Me: You guys always bicker with each other and are not best of friends. Sasuke!!! How could you analyze his mood just by looking at Naruto????

In Shippuden, There’s no inner monologue like the above, but whenever Naruto appears before him (Orochimaru’s hideout, Bridge, War arc), Sasuke gives his undivided attention to him. He even went so far as to advice him to pay attention to the battle. And I was like “Wait!!! you wanted to kill him... why pay attention to him at all? Geez”.

As much as you want to think that Sasuke doesn’t care about anyone, he does care about Naruto to the point where he doesn’t want him to be worried. How thoughtful just for a ‘teammate’.

How did Sasuke knew that Naruto would worry about him?, I wonder.

But all these things started from this

This boy has been noticing Naruto from way back when he was around 7 when he lost his family. Of course he would know every little things about Naruto because for some undefinable reason he couldn’t stop paying his attention to Naruto. A lineup of girls vying for his attention because of his cool appearance, whereas Sasuke simply loved Naruto without any reservations but because of his childish and warm personality which reminded him of his family.

‘I couldn’t stop paying attention to you’ and in some translations the words were ‘I couldn’t take my eyes off you’. Either way, these words are not for someone you see just as a friend let alone a brother.

Protectiveness

I can go on and on about how protective Sasuke is towards Naruto. I can write a separate post about it. This is the most important aspects of this ship which makes it sail higher than any other ships.

Of course, this is the Ninja world where people wants to protect each other and at the same time kill each other too. Sasuke protecting Naruto and Naruto protecting Sasuke is not too special. In fact, one of the weak and pathetic character like Sakura was saved once in every three episodes by Naruto or Kakashi or even by Sasuke sometimes.

And yet here I am mentioning protectiveness as the most important aspect of this ship. So what differentiates?

The way Sasuke protects Naruto is one of the intense thing I’ve ever seen. When I watch this series, I gained this immense ability to put myself in other characters mind just like Naruto. When I put myself in Sasuke’s mind whenever he tried to protect Naruto under different conditions, I simply cannot put their relationship under Friendship.

Here, Naruto is fighting Gaara in part 1 and Naruto was repelled by his own attack from the paper bomb. Sasuke being already battered by his curse mark bruise and he couldn’t move an inch. And yet he is shielding Naruto even though it is completely unnecessary because Naruto bumping into a tree log is completely normal. The creator even went under a lot of pain to draw that panel which took 40% of the page.

Now you may question, many characters even died protecting someone. What’s so special with just shielding?

Like Hinata jumping in for suicide before Pain, Iruka blocking Mizuki’s attack, Tsunade blocking Orochimaru, Neji dying as a ‘Love Cupid’ for hinata and Naruto.... I can cite many things here. What’s common among them all is that they were all perfectly capable of moving around and yet decided to save Naruto.

But that’s not the only point.

Is there any need for him to save Naruto? No.

Will Naruto die if he didn’t shield him? No.

Then why? He could have spent that energy trying to do something for Sakura rather than do a pointless shielding.

And then there is Kushina.

Naruto’s mom was already on the verge of dying as she had Kurama extracted from her body and Jinchuriki without a Tailed Beast will die. Because of Uzumaki clan’s strong life force, she could hold off for a bit longer. When kurama attacked Naruto, she shielded him with her body and saved her son from an imminent death.

Even though Sasuke didn’t die shielding him, but there is a semblance.

Both protected Naruto even when their body condition is worse. That is, Protect at all cost attitude.

I intended to put Land of the Waves arc here as it is very similar to what happens with Kushina. But that’s for an upcoming section.

Now, as a Mother her instinct to protect Naruto is very strong.

But who is Naruto for Sasuke? What makes his instinct so strong to protect someone who is not even related by his blood? Until and unless you love that person dearly you won’t do it.

That brings me to the next thing.

Yeah, it kind of looks ‘very friendly’ to give a 3 layered protection to someone who is already powered up like you and most importantly you want to kill him.(Can I say that looks really romantic?). Anyways my point is different.

What really happens here is this

It is a well established fact that Minato, the Yellow Flash is the fastest shinobi in Narutoverse. It wasn’t surpassed yet. He uses the Hiraishin No Jutsu to teleport at the speed of light. It was invented by none other than Tobirama Senju who is the fastest shinobi of his time.

We basically have two fastest shinobi in the battlefield here. And Minato being the fastest among them, definitely don’t want to blow up near his son for whom he died protecting him once. He wanted to teleport somewhere away and before he could do it, Tobirama teleported the bomb back to Obito.

What many fails to notice here is that all these things are happening in mere seconds. But Sasuke realized it real quick as usual and protects Naruto in an instant. How fast his instinct you may ask? Quicker than the two fastest shinobi on the battlefield and one among them is Naruto’s dad.

What I want to say is Sasuke’s protective instinct is quicker than Naruto’s father and similar to Naruto’s mother.

And you know, I questioned myself during the Chunin Exams arc “I think in the Zabuza arc, Naruto conveniently happened to be near Sasuke, So he protected him at the cost of his life. What if Sakura happens to be there? Would he have done the same? Maybe he would’ve died protecting her too.”

But all of my questions were thrown into drain by Sasuke as if he was able to read my mind. The answer is “Hell! I don’t care if she died. That’s her loss. I will not die for her sake.”

This is really confusing, hilarious and romantic at the same time.

Me: Sasuke!!! I understand why you want to save Jugo... Even though you abandoned him in the Land of Iron. LOL. What are you going to do with Naruto anyway when the whole world is blasted off?

He proved this again in the Kaguya’s Lava dimension too. Before you tell me that he saved Naruto because he needs him to seal off Kaguya, the previous scenario nullifies your argument.

And SS wankers shamelessly defending that Sasuke don’t want Sakura to die by Kaguya’s hands, that’s why he left her to die. Geez!!! Who the hell is Sakura to Kaguya anyway? Even if she were to die by Kaguya’s hands, it would almost look like how Obito died. It’s not bad at all. But falling into the lava pit, burning, screaming.... sssshhhh. Wake the f**k up!!!

Now how can you convince me that this is just Friendship? What’s more funny is Sasuke wanted to kill Naruto later at some point. Throughout the War Arc I was always confused as to why Sasuke even care about Naruto at all? He didn’t care about him ever since he left him 3 or 4 years ago and he doesn’t have to. After all everyone have their own paths to walk on.

Even if I put myself in Sasuke’s mind and see Naruto just as a friend whom I want to kill, I wouldn’t go under so much pain to save him. I would feel like it’s better for him to die by something else rather than me. Because I can’t bring myself to kill someone I know well.

These scenes are not just put there by chance.

Such a strong reflex to protect someone is only possible when you consider that person’s life more than yours.

Does any other ship has such things to show? I’ll wait.

Yeah Sasuke protected Sakura from Orochimaru and Gaara. But he also went so far to wait for Karin and awakened a new power to protect her. So does this means he love those girls?? No. He was just showing a team camaraderie. But it’s funny that later, he tried to kill those girls knowing full well they are unprepared to fight him. While with Naruto, it always comes with a warning. Try to understand this difference. Which is exactly why I didn’t put Sasuke saving Naruto during his Chakra training, or falling from the waterfall and many more. Because they are just a team camaraderie.

I don’t even have to compare with other ships, did Sasuke ever protected anyone like this in the whole series?. These are the things which could’ve been avoided or handled in a different way, like there was no need to emphasize on saving Naruto alone while ignoring others.

My body moved on its own

I don’t need to explain this any deeper. There are many people who says Sasuke is incapable of showing his true feelings. He is cold, rude, aloof and stoic so he always hides his feelings for everyone (mostly this line was used by Sakura wankers who wanted to portray that Sasuke always loved Sakura deeply but never shows). But they fail to understand the irony that one of the most beautiful line in this entire series was told by none other than ‘Sasuke Uchiha’, “My body moved on its own”.

Yet I find Sasuke shows his honest and heartful emotions before the people he loves. If he can show that to Itachi and Naruto, why not with Sakura?

I know those wankers try to say Sasuke repressed all his feelings until Chapter 698, so he has some romantic feelings for Sakura too. Bullshit!!!

Even though he repressed those feelings in his mind, his body always betrays him in the end and his feelings pours out from time to time. That is what this section explores about.

Man, this is the most painful GIF I have ever made.

In his battle with Itachi, he was completely consumed by the feeling of revenge and hatred for his brother. But when Itachi approached him in his final moments with an intention (seemingly) to snatch his eyes, he still couldn't push Itachi away though he could have. Sasuke just looked into his eyes and let him do whatever he was about to do.

Why?, Because he loved his brother so much once that he don't know what to do but simply embrace that moment. These are the moments your mind says to close your eyes or even run away (he totally could have) but his body will not allow him to.

This is what I meant by your body betrays yourself. Even in your darkest moments, you cannot fake. You always show your true emotions towards the person you love. The more you suppress, the more it will burst out.

Here Sasuke’s hatred is glaring through his eyes because Sakura is persuading him to not do something he wants to (as always). His only motivation is to kill that man. His resolve is a real deal.

But in a matter of minutes after giving that long hateful speech with some heavy determination, when he saw that hungry blonde boy who was tied up for trying to steal food, Sasuke just acted on his own and served him food even though he was told not to which could jeopardize his career.

This bipolar dance is something to notice throughout the series and is always interesting to explore. When Sakura tries to dissuade Sasuke from something, he always retorts to insults or an angry stare. But when Naruto accidentally stands in Sasuke’s way, he always involuntarily helps him out.

In short, towards Sakura he was like “Even you cannot take that path away from me” but when turning towards Naruto, he was like “Well, I can risk everything for you at the cost of my path”.

This seals the real deal for SNS ship.

At this point, for us viewers, Naruto is just an orphan who has no friends but always carries his life with a positive spirit hoping that someday he will be accepted by everyone.

Unbeknownst the fact that he already has one person who was willing to die for him and putting all his dreams into fire.

Important thing to notice, It’s entirely at Naruto’s fault for them being in this situation. If Naruto had used a bit of brain to attack from outside the mirror, they wouldn’t have been in this situation. But still Sasuke plunged into the trap without any regrets. That’s the beauty of this scene.

What’s more thrilling is that the creator told us Sasuke loved Naruto in the very next chapter itself.

How?

By making Haku jump before Zabuza knowing full well that he is going to die which is not very different from how Sasuke shielded Naruto.

And not only that, but by making Naruto say “He really loved you”. I got to say the creator may sucks at writing Sakura and Hinata for God only knows for whatever twisted reasons. But when it comes to male characters like Naruto, Sasuke, Itachi, Obito... he was just amazing and on another level.

How?

By indirectly drawing parallels between Sasuke and Haku in a matter of successive chapters.

By dropping indirect hints and crumbs like these to tell us, the audience, the motivations of the characters.

I always had the thought why did he risked his life for a boy who always fights with him? This became more emotional when we get to know the real reason for why Sasuke risked his life much later in chapter 698.

Having faced all the turbulent things in his life, somehow seeing Naruto doing all those childish stuffs made him feel relieved. That warmth was what he needed at that time. He wanted to escape from it but couldn’t. That’s why he embraced his warmth unknowingly in his Team 7 days by constantly reaching out to him starting from asking tips, concerned about having breakfast and training with him to climb the tree.

Sasuke even come to like Naruto more than himself and that’s why he was willing to die for him.

This feeling is definitely not a bromance or friendship. It’s an innocent enchantment you hope to last forever. Which again explains why he tolerated Naruto’s insults and hostility all those times. Because Sasuke knew those childish things were the ones he got attracted to him ever since his childhood. Rather than saying tolerated, I should use the term enjoyed. He really enjoyed those moments being bugged by Naruto for no reason.

Because just like Itachi said to Sasuke once, ‘If you are excellent you become alienated and arrogant even though you were sought after at the beginning’ . But Naruto pestering him means he is very curious about Sasuke which no one else tried. He was adored by those girls for his coolness and revered by those boys for his excellence but nobody really tried to befriend him. But Naruto tried to befriend him through Rivalry. That’s why Sasuke unconsciously started to like him. This also explains why he roasted Sakura for badmouthing him even though Naruto attacked him and tied him up earlier.

If Sasuke can show all these feelings even though he was trying to suppress it towards Naruto and Itachi, Why can’t he show a single normal feeling towards Sakura??? Because there isn’t one. Except for an old Team 7 camaraderie where he saw her as an acquaintance and nothing more.

Many NH shippers claims, but Hinata loved her ‘Naruto-Kun’. She jumped in front of Naruto to save him from Pain, when in reality she just acted selfishly and couldn’t pull out the Chakra rods. Meaning she failed whatever she was about to do.

Another interesting thing to cite for NH shippers, they claim for Naruto, Hinata is the most important person his life. Since when? With that shitty movie called ‘The Last’ with shitty retconned stuff? In all the 699 chapters he always claimed Iruka Sensei and Sasuke were the important people in his life. And you know what? For Hinata to like Naruto, he has to jump in to save her from the bullies. But for Sasuke he just saved Naruto without any validation. He saw Naruto and liked his presence and just did it.

When you could accept that failed attempt as a love, why not accept Sasuke loves Naruto when in fact he succeeded in saving him and that too unconditionally?

This is one of the tropes which should have been avoided if the creator wanted Sasuke and Naruto to be just friends.

One and Only

This is something very special that is offered to that one person in his life. That is Naruto. Even Itachi knew it. That is the Power to influence Sasuke’s heart. This is the fact even Sasuke himself knew it and that’s why he wanted to kill him.

Now don’t compare this with the manipulation shit which Orochimaru and Obito were doing. It’s not that. Many Sasuke fanatics always blame Naruto that he is also manipulating Sasuke just like everyone. That’s totally wrong.

Manipulation is something you do by talking about some twisted facts and make the other person to do what you want to.

Naruto never did that. Ever. Whenever Naruto and Sasuke meet, they always talk about themselves and how they feel. Not the world, not Team 7 or anything. Which is exactly why Sasuke himself willingly left that space in his heart for Naruto when he left him in the Valley of the End which he badly wanted to destroy. Sasuke, of all people, know Naruto is also very honest.

Sasuke lost all his rationality when he went into darkness by stabbing Karin who was helping him in his battle with Danzo. She even replenished his chakra many times. He not only just stabbed her, after when he found her still alive, he decided to finish her off with his Chidori.

And then the pink haired bitch appears before him and started to concoct lies with malicious intent to kill him. This provoked Sasuke more and more to reach this point.

Believe me, when you are lost in darkness, all you need is a small light which can show you a path. Someone who can extend helping hands to lift you up with honesty.

Sakura, being a crass woman, riled up Sasuke further with full of nonsense.

If you want to picture the darkness,

This is exactly how Sasuke feels. He is in so much pain and don’t know how to face it or deal with it. So he started to destroy everything he sees. For him Karin, Sakura, Kakashi are all just some pebbles in his way and want to trample them as he goes. His entire life has become farce after knowing his beloved brother’s real pain and miseries. Now he has no one left from his family.

Until Naruto appears.

He may not be his family, but he is the only person left for him in this world. Which is established in many Naruto endings and even Sasuke himself accepts this with Sage of Six Paths.

But my Cherry Blossom queen really loved Sasuke, she only wanted the good of him. My question is ‘Then why the fuck she tried to kill him? She looked at Sasuke and find that he changed. She didn’t even bothered to find out what’s going on from his side.’ Then how is this considered as wanting only good for him?

Surprisingly Sasuke calmed down a bit, the moment Naruto appears and even started to respond to him which he didn’t before with Kakashi and Sakura. Deep down Sasuke himself knew in his heart that the path he is going through is Self-destructive. Just like Kurama tells Naruto ‘Destroy everything you see’ in the Pain arc when he sprouted upto Eighth Tail, Sasuke’s traumatic mind tells him to ‘Destroy Konoha’.

All he needed was someone to extend an helping hand to tell him what to do without any malice. Naruto did that. Just like what Minato did for Naruto in Pain arc.

After clashing Rasengan with Chidori ,they meet inside the White bubble space and Naruto talks to Sasuke which evoked all his past memories which he never wanted to awaken.

That’s why Sasuke was visibly shaken with Naruto’s words. Because those were the words which mirrors exactly how Sasuke feels too. He was surprised and shocked that Naruto also felt the same way without him ever openly confessing those feelings.

When everyone tried to kill him for his monstrosity, Naruto is the only person standing there seeing him as his friend. Just like how Iruka saw Naruto way back in 1st chapter.

Believe me, even at the depth of darkness, when you see the person you love so much, you will stop and rationalize.

That is exactly why Itachi left Sasuke in Naruto’s hands. He even admitted to Sasuke that his words will not reach him no matter what.

Sasuke may not have abandoned his ambitions at that point. But Naruto gave him a clear path. That is ‘Show all your hatred on me’ and then do whatever you want.

I know SS shippers will claim that back hug from Sakura changed his murderous behaviour during the Chunin Exams. Yes. That’s true. But right after that, when Sasuke was fighting Yoroi in a one-on-one combat, his Cursed Seal flares up again. He retracted that seal out of his sheer will and thought about both Sakura and Naruto who was freaking out without even knowing about the seal. So, it’s not only a Sakura exclusive moment. The creator even went ahead and drawn a panel asking Sakura to not say anything about the Curse Mark to Naruto. Why do that?

As far as I understand, Sasuke saw Naruto and felt the warmth of his family. He singled that out in chapter 698. When Naruto was placed in the same team as him, he started to extend his good side to his other team members as well. But the moment he decided to leave the village, he severed the ties with Sakura (was there ever one apart from considering her as a teammate?) by saying Thank You. Meaning, you helped me many times so thanks for all of that. What’s more pitiful is, he didn’t even look at her face for the entire conversation except for saying ‘You are really annoying’. There is nowhere in the manga where Sasuke singled out Sakura for making him feel anything and did something for her exclusively. It’s all in the context of Team 7.

If Sakura is the most important person in Sasuke’s life, he should have stopped the rampage the moment he saw her but instead he got riled up more and more. Which explains where Sasuke kept her in his heart. Literally nowhere. He threw her into the trash. LOL.

If Hulk can calm down after seeing Betty Ross and you call that love, why not accept Sasuke loves Naruto??

Powerful Eyes

You know, Even in real life, Our eyes always reflects our true feelings, just like how your body betrays your mind , your eyes even betray your body.

Just like how Itachi could never fake his evil brother act in his final moments.

Just like how Sasuke couldn’t turn away from Itachi when he was approaching him to seemingly snatch his eyes.

Uchiha boys being a romantic bunch, always expose their awakening/ reawakening/ evolving their Sharingan in a most distressed situation. Just like Madara and Sasuke exposed their brimming eyes for Hashirama and Naruto. But in this department, Madara is wildly romantic as always. LOL. Despite losing 3 brothers, he awakened his Sharingan only when he was breaking up with his ‘friend’. And Sasuke, he reawakened / evolved Sharingan when trying to save / breaking up with his ‘friend’. Such a Biological defect!!!!

Poor Sakura pathetically fails in this department.

Anyways this part is not about Sharingan anyway. It’s about how such a powerful eyes becomes powerless before those Blue Eyes.

Eye Symbolism is something I really enjoy exploring in this ship.

Like I mentioned earlier, Sasuke has never shown his emotions atleast starting from Part II. He usually never shows any positive emotions like happiness, laughing, pouting, love, excitement (although he has shown all these towards Itachi and Naruto) and is known for negative emotions like anger, annoyance, hatred.

Look at how Sasuke is glaring with hatred for her insensitive words. She deserved this to be honest.

Now, is there any need to show your fury towards Kabuto?

Since the beginning of the Shippuden, some facts have been established strongly:

1. Sasuke has changed by leaps and bounds in terms of his attitude and hatred.

2. Sharingan is pretty dangerous. Many characters including kurama acknowledges it. Sasuke is very adept at using his Sharingan.

Orochimaru maybe right. But he doesn’t know the weakness. LOL

His hatred has reached to a point where he couldn’t think anything rationally and started to kill everyone, just like how Naruto kicked Sakura in his 4 Tailed Kyuubi Mode engulfed with the hatred of Kurama. Meaning, to reach his goal, Sasuke will kill anyone in his path without any hesitation. This shot is the representation of this.

And yet when he saw those particular Blue eyes, he stops his rampage immediately and visibly shocked even. That’s the look of ‘why is that blue eyes here?’

You have every right to accuse me that I am over exaggerating this scene. I am not. Even I wanted to think that way too that I am deluding myself. The creator has only consolidated my view pretty strongly.

There’s no need to emphasize on eyes at all. The anime team has went under so much pain to animate this scene in a satisfying and compelling way.

What’s more? The creator even went under further extent to draw a whole page in the manga focusing on their eye contact after the Rasengan vs Chidori clash. Meaning, Sasuke has calmed down visibly and became very easy to reason with.

Trust me, even in your darker / vulnerable moments, your eyes will reflect your true feelings to the person you love. You cannot be stubborn.

Now did it stop here?? Nope, it happened again in the Final Valley of the End battle too.

Sasuke is usually confident of his Sharingan (rightfully so) and likes to flaunt his eyes just like Madara. He was very sure that he was going to win.

While Sasuke had a clear resolve to kill Naruto when he was showing his back, but the moment he comes close with those Blue Eyes, his heart even pounded strongly (in the anime), and lost the resolve completely which made his Sharingan retract itself unconsciously. Meaning, his eyes betrayed him.

It’s funny that not even a minute ago he was very proud of his Visual Prowess as an Uchiha and his victory is inevitable but the moment he saw those Blue eyes, he just lost. You think I am again exaggerating?. Nope!!!

Oh Dear!!! This doesn’t get more romantic than this. An inescapable gaze from those blue eyes he loved all along.

Sasuke!! What happened to your proud Uchiha eyes?. You just stole Chakra from Naruto, isn’t it? Hints like these are really heartwarming, to be honest.

My entire point is, every character from every arc hypes up Sharingan starting from Zabuza, Haku, Rock Lee, Orochimaru, Kabuto, Kurama and many more, but why put a weakness for Naruto’s eyes?

What I really loved exploring is the way Sasuke totally expressed everything through his eyes in Episode 478.

Sasuke shows his vulnerability towards Naruto with just his eyes. These are not something you show to everyone. Even when Itachi departed finally after releasing Edo Tensei, Sasuke looked sad, shocked and pained but didn’t cry. He accepted the reality of it. The last time when we saw him crying, it was after knowing the truth of Itachi, facing towards the beach and was weeping unbearably because there was no one else for him in this world. But this time, he is next to the person whom he feels truly loved and he doesn’t mind showing it with his eyes.

Well, on multiple rewatches, the clues for their love was already dropped in the 1st Valley of the End fight itself. Sasuke already lost his resolve to kill by balling his chidori fist rather than ramming through his chest. So the feelings inside the bubble are their honest emotions like always.

The pain on the verge of their separation inside the white bubble is clearly evident from their eyes even in their monstrous form. Even in the manga it was mentioned that ‘I can’t turn my back Vs I am not letting you go’

But what they really wanted to be from their childhood was this.

Look at Sasuke, how entranced he was on looking at that innocent boy. Now put yourself at Sasuke’s mind. Will you ever look at your friend like that??? Now, they are probably just 7 here, am not romanticizing. But Sasuke looks enthralled innocently.

But somehow, their paths separated them for who knows how long. But the pain in both their eyes is unbearable. Even the databook, mentioned that separating from Naruto is like ripping half of his body. Well, this proves it.

Now, if they really wanted to portray this as friendship, they never should have given Eye symbolism at all. They should have gone with ‘I was always jealous of you’ thing, like they portrayed in that filler episode 450.I would’ve gladly accepted it as friendship. Because that’s how friends behave when they are jealous and I wasn’t feeling any romance at all. There’s no need of that lengthy monologue on how he was always looking at Naruto and felt pain.

I am telling you, I won’t be looking at my friend like this.

Unconscious closeness

Remember, I’ve written in the beginning of the post that Sasuke enjoys the warmth from Naruto. Meaning, he likes that person’s presence unconsciously and want to be near him. Sasuke proved this many times.

This is the most intense and confusing section I have to dissect for this post. But it’s the most entertaining nonetheless, atleast for me.

Starting from the Land of the Waves arc, here Sasuke is speed walking to match up with Naruto.

Initially I thought, he is trying to be competitive. But instead of walking ahead of Naruto to show who is faster, he just walks beside him. I find this really hilarious and adorable. This just shows Sasuke likes Naruto’s presence so much so that he wants to walk beside him.

Now many SS shippers tries to make this scene for themselves, when it is clearly not.

If you notice Sasuke in the Bell Training, he compares his strength difference with Kakashi and determines to get stronger. Same with Might Guy, he compares Might Guy’s speed with his own Sensei. Meaning, he respects people with strength. Naturally, he should’ve asked her and Sakura would have given him tips wholeheartedly. Because she really succeeded in that training.

Why bother to ask a deadlast?

The only reason I could find is that he wants to befriend him in his own stubborn way. But Poor Soul!!! He didn’t get the tips anyway. LOL. But despite getting the short end of the stick, he never hold it against him. Just like he never held anything against Naruto when he tied him up in Episode 3. All he did was just flaunt how he escaped.

Pretty cool for a 12 year old kid. Because If I were Sasuke, I would hold it for sure.

Once again Sasuke proves how he can care Naruto in his own adorable way.

He could’ve said ‘I am going to train too” if he really intended to train. There is no need to say ‘Going for a Walk’ and ask Naruto about breakfast. This explains that Sasuke simply missed the boy’s prolonged absence and reached out to him in his own cute way.

Now all these doesn’t mean he was in love with him. It’s just a childish attraction which makes him act like that involuntarily.

I just added this GIF to compare with the next scene.

Now Shikamaru falling on Naruto in an unconventional way doesn’t look anywhere romantic. Instead it’s the opposite. They are pretty friendly here.

But Sasuke’s approach to Naruto does looks undeniably sensual and I couldn’t deny the sexual tension that brings with it. (Even when I watched it for the first time having no idea of shipping anyone, I lowkey got creeped and thought, ‘Sasuke!! What have you become? ’)

This scene is something even I can’t dissect. Because honestly I don’t know. Sasuke is a person who never appreciates physical touches nor does he initiates either.

I get this crazy femme fatale vibe when seeing Sasuke with his sexy costume landing at a speed of lightning with his hands wrapped around Naruto and taunting near his ear about what was he doing there? The only reason I could think of is that maybe he missed him for 3 years which made him go unconsciously so close near Naruto. It’s also funny that he could’ve shoved his sword into Naruto’s heart before landing and no one could’ve batted an eyelid.

Damn you, Kishimoto!!! Is this scene absolutely necessary??? What are you trying to convey? Why do you give Sasuke, a sexualized aura?? I understand you love this character so much and you want this character to be desirable among women. Yeah, you succeeded by making Karin behave like a woman in heat, the moment they met. But instead of letting her get close to him, you made Sasuke to say ‘You... Don’t get so close’ whereas with Naruto, you made Sasuke to go willingly touch him in a half hugging stance. Geez!!!

Here comes the most interesting part in this section.

It may seem irrelevant at the beginning but trust me, it will make sense later.

Before that, I would like to appreciate the creator and especially the anime team to bring the battle sequence so lively and different in its own way. If you notice the purpose of every battle that happened in Naruto series, each carries it own meaning and deliberately distinguished. How you ask?

The fight between Deidara vs Sasuke.

Logically Deidara should be dead in the Gaara retrieval arc itself. There is no point for him to chase Sasuke who killed Orochimaru to whom Deidara had nothing to do with. It didn’t impact the story in any way. But the purpose of that battle is to show how far Sasuke has grown up in those 3 years. The way he can use his Sharingan to analyze his enemies abilities and weakness so quickly and take multiple steps ahead, the way he can use Genjutsu and other incredible jutsus in his arsenal were a visual treat.

Now, let’s analyze Sasuke’s arsenal of Jutsus. He can do Teleportation Jutsu, a decent Genjutsu, Chidori Senbon (needles), Raikiri (Chidori sword which ranges to 5 metres), Chidori Nagash (Chidori from his whole body), Transformation Jutsu, Substitution Jutsu Shuriken Jutsu with wire works, Kirin, Gokakyu No jutsu, Sword fighting, basic Hand-to-Hand fighting (I’ve never seen him do it ever since the Chunin Exams with Orochimaru), Archery fighting, Susanoo, Amaterasu and all the Rinnegan abilities.

Based on the jutsus he learned so far and how he applies in every battle, it all confirms two things:

Sasuke is a Medium-Long Range Shinobi

Sasuke’s battles are usually based on his Cleverness

Let’s go for Naruto. He can do Teleportation Jutsu, Sexy Jutsu, Harem no jutsu, Rasengan, Rasen Shuriken, Oodama Rasengan, Biju Dama, Tailed Beast Mode, Kage Bunshin No jutsu, Sage mode jutsu, Frog Kumite, Better Hand-to-Hand combat skills (better than Sasuke), Transformation Jutsu, Substitution Jutsu and all his Six path abilities.

Compared to Sasuke, Naruto’s jutsu variety is very less. But for every 4 punches from Sasuke equals 1 powerful punch from Naruto. Analyzing all of them,

Naruto is a Close-Range Shinobi except for his Rasen Shuriken

Naruto’s battles are usually based on his Jutsu Timing and Unpredictability

Now, Let’s rewind back to 3 years and look at the 1st Valley of the End battle. That battle was cleverly choreographed which carried very intense emotional baggage. Things we never knew about those boys until then were openly admitted and acknowledged. That is, for Sasuke, Naruto became his closest friend. For Naruto, he always wanted to be Sasuke’s friend way back when he was 6 or 7. For both, they already have some unexplainable bond by just looking at each other and smiling secretly.

The theme of that battle started as Am going on my own path vs I can’t allow you to tread on that dangerous path and ended up with I want to break our bond vs I don’t want to.

Now, this posture represents, Naruto is the one who pursues Sasuke to stop him from whatever he was about to do. Meaning, Naruto is the one who is constantly reaching out and Sasuke as usual kicks him out violently, that is he is pushing him away. That’s the essence of the whole battle.

Considering all the battles in the Naruto universe, I categorize them as follows:

Best Calculated (and emotional) battle - Itachi vs Sasuke

Best Hand-to-Hand combat - Kakashi vs Obito (what a fight it was!!!)

Best Mega Powered Up battle - Hashirama vs Madara

Best Emotional battle - Naruto vs Sasuke (1st valley of the end)

Best Unpredictable/Entertaining battle - Naruto vs Pain

Despite having all the potential to fulfill the above categories, The Final Valley of the End Battle never bested in any of them.

As analyzed before, the boys have grown up to greater heights. I expected a battle between Cleverness of Sasuke Vs Unpredictability of Naruto

But what I observed was something so intense. That is Unintentional closeness.

This battle symbolizes one thing: I am going to kill you to get lonely vs I won’t let you kill me because you will be alone.

Being a long range fighter, I expected Sasuke to go for this.

If you have to kill someone you love, it is best to keep your distance. Sasuke knows this full well when he battled with Itachi. Except for some Sword fighting, he maintained a certain distance to fight Itachi throughout, until the very end.

But when fighting Naruto, all I got was this.

That’s when I finally understood that this posture means, the fight is very personal. Which means, Sasuke or Naruto won’t be fighting by sitting on top of each other with their enemies or anyone else. That’s just between them alone.

There was no analysis or cleverness from Sasuke’s side or any Unpredictability from Naruto. It was very bland and Sasuke looked clueless throughout the fight.

It started with some boxing style combat, including stealing hand seals and then some power punches. Very quickly it propels to Susanoo vs Tailed Beast mode. I expected some Hashirama vs Madara level power battle.

But all we saw there was this.

I mean, Come on!!! Man. Even the most Crazy and openly Romantic Uchiha, Madara himself never fought like this in Susanoo with Hashirama (Though Madara must be thinking ‘Damn Hashirama! I should’ve tried this with you’. LOL). Those mega battles carried variety of tactics.

Another thing I noticed was, Sasuke is the one who does lots of talking and constantly pursuing Naruto. Whereas Naruto is uncharacteristically quiet for the most part.

And finally it leads to this.

Sasuke was unconsciously getting closer and closer to Naruto which is the opposite of what he wants to do. Because of that very closeness, he couldn’t look at his eyes with his Sharingan and eventually got an uppercut. It’s like Sasuke was screaming, ‘Hate me’ and Naruto was like ‘Keep talking’.

Every jutsu he had for attacking from a long-range were forgotten. He didn’t even try to put Naruto under Genjutsu. I mean with his Rinnegan, he was capable of putting all the 9 Tailed Beasts into a powerful Genjutsu. Why didn’t he try that with Naruto? There was no Chidori Stream or Lightning Blade.

I can imagine Naruto doing close range fights with someone or even sitting on top of the enemy. Example, part I, Naruto head bumped Gaara. He was literally fighting with his Shadow Clones against a Monster so he had to get closer. Naruto monstrously punching Deidara not knowing the fact that it was a clay clone.

But Sasuke??? Can you imagine Sasuke sitting on top of the enemy and punching to pulp??? No way. Not a chance.!!!

In one way or other way, Sasuke was always in the close proximity with Naruto throughout the battle and touching each other which is totally uncharacteristic of him when compared to his other battles.

Every battle he ever fought was always at a distance which is the clear representation of his own character. He is calculative, analytical, precise and moves fluidly with a flair like a true Ninja unlike Naruto who is always reckless, noisy, powerful and clumsy.

Sasuke is someone who never lets his emotions get ahead in the battle, unlike Naruto. This is evident from the War when he was yelling at Naruto to stop worrying about Hokage as they were Edo Tensei who can regenerate. Even when fighting with Itachi, he calculated every move and attacked Itachi without any emotions except at the very end. Sasuke in this final battle forgot who he was and telling us viewers “Am just gonna get closer to Naruto and punch him hard”.

In short, Sasuke completely forgot all his battle tactics he had with Itachi and let his emotions get ahead of his cleverness and got himself closer to Naruto which eventually ended up weakening his resolve to kill him. This is what I meant by Unintentional Closeness.

Anyways, what I understood was, the creator didn’t put all this by without any meaning. It’s all very deliberate and drawn carefully.

Moving onto the final and the most defining moments of SNS.

When I watched this scene for the first time, I can’t comprehend the exact meaning. And I forgot about this later because of my excitement to know what happens next. But what I understood on my rewatch is that, the feelings exchanged here is very pure and innocent but distressing.

Sasuke already lost his resolve to kill by not ramming Naruto with Chidori instead balled up his fist. So he is not contemplating whether or not to kill Naruto.

Sasuke made every effort to leave Naruto and succeeded in it too. But somehow, accidentally, when faced with a person whom he considers so precious in such a close proximity, despite have a stinging pain in his arm, he is feeling the warmth he once felt. He just wants that warmth to prolong for some more time and he can’t able to evade it. So he totally gave in to that desire and feeling it unconsciously. Sasuke always watched Naruto (unbeknownst to him) and felt warmth, relief and weakness. This scene is the symbolic and innocent representation of all those feelings when he saw Naruto and he is exeriencing it for the final time.

Does this means, does Sasuke wants to kiss him? No.

But every symbolism of that being happening is there. It’s just all open to interpretations. The creator could show us how Sasuke fell on his knees and staring at Naruto intently but never intended to show when he got up and left. I don’t understand this twisted mind of the creator.

Added to that, Sasuke was about to say ‘Naruto, I....’ God only knows what he was about to say. But every possibility of Sasuke confessing and kissing is there.

I know the creator cannot approach this directly considering the situations he worked under. But is there any necessity for such an intense scene? Even the anime creators loved this scene and made their own version of making Naruto’s eyes wide open and even more closer.

I wont be watching my friend or sister like that.

That explains all the way back to this fated accidental scene.

There is nothing special about this scene. It’s all very clear that the kiss was accidental. It was really funny. But my point is why Sasuke never beat him to pulp or even push Naruto away like he did with Sakura and Karin? Why did he stood up for Naruto before Sakura? Why did he let go off Naruto even though he tied him up? Too many leeway for a single person in a single episode. And the most important part is, Sasuke thought it was intentional and remembers the taste. LOL.

Does this means he enjoyed the kiss? Not at all.

Most probably he was shocked to see Naruto in such a close proximity after seeing him from a distance for all those years. And he enjoys this as just another prank from Naruto in his own innocent way. But he won’t mind getting another one from Naruto either.

So, to conclude

I believe I made this post from an objective standpoint without making crazy theories and I don’t have to..... since canonical resources were plenty. Obviously my own bias will also be there which is unavoidable. But I tried to question the creative choices of why this scene even exist in the first place many times. Because those are the scenes which made the most impact inside me.

My first watch of Naruto gave me the benefit of doubt that ‘Are they in love? Nah... They are friends. Maybe I am just overthinking... but why does it feel different??’ and that too only after finishing episode 478. After rewatching it again and again, it only consolidated my view.

For Sasuke, his worldly ties are pretty thin and runny. He was always a loner from the beginning even when he had his family. He never bothered to make any friends nor did anyone tried to befriend him. He was pretty close to his family especially Itachi. When he lost everything, somehow he got attracted innocently to Naruto and started to like him. But beyond Naruto he never bothered to add anyone in his heart. He considered Kakashi and Sakura were like his acquaintances who helped him a lot and that’s all.

Then after using Orochimaru, he gathered some high skilled shinobi for killing Itachi. But he made it clear that there don’t need to be any understanding but just co-operation would be enough. But along his way, he just abandoned Jugo, Suigetsu somewhere. He openly said to Karin that she is nothing but a burden to him. When his hatred reached upto a maximum boiling point, he didn’t even hesitate to kill Karin, Kakashi or Sakura. But the moment Naruto appears he calmed down. The proof? He was shocked to see Naruto at first. Then Naruto calls, ‘Sasuke!!!’, to which Sasuke responds with, ‘What?’. Despite becoming a maniac, he could find it in his heart to listen to Naruto.

It took an Edo Tenseified Itachi to bring him some rationality to question his beliefs about destroying Konoha. When Jugo and Suigetsu appear again, he casually asked them, ‘What do you want with me at this point?’, I mean, Come On, Man. LOL. Even during the war arc, when things were about to blast off he only cared about Jugo (who helped him many times, so understandable) and Naruto (Geez!!! LOL).

Even after their final battle, the anime went so far as to create a scene where they were alone in a bright Konoha. But Sasuke looked very peaceful and listening to Naruto intently. When Naruto freaks out about Infinite Tsukuyomi, he casually laughs off and says ‘you still care about the world’. Meaning, he is happy there spending time alone with the person he loves. Doesn’t give a rat’s ass about missing anyone else. (How romantic!!!). Honestly, Sasuke wouldn’t mind if they were to stay that way forever. He would gladly listen to Naruto all day. But when Naruto disappears he freaks out and starting to make up his mind about joining his brother.

It’s very clear that the people he adores are Itachi and Naruto. Towards Itachi, it’s super understandable, because he is his own brother. But Naruto??? Why should the creator go so far as to make Sasuke adores Naruto even after breaking up with him?

And why make Sasuke possessive about Naruto’s life? When Obito was about to kill Naruto with that Black Orbs, Sasuke blocked him and said ‘You are not the One to sever the past, I am’. I understand the logic behind Sasuke’s possessiveness on Itachi’s life because he destroyed his family, childhood and even Itachi wants Sasuke to be the one to kill him. But why possessive on Naruto? He is not related to him by blood. Naruto never did anything wrong to Sasuke to warrant any hate either. You will become possessive on something only when you truly hate it or wholeheartedly love it. There is no middle ground. My point is why put Naruto here at all in the first place?? Believe me, If Sasuke never paid attention to Naruto in the War arc, I would be the first person to jump out of this ship.

Just to give you a basic example, Imagine you are living in a place far away from your family, friends and that loveable person. When Corona hits everywhere and forced Lockdown to travel outside the city, and the situation is getting worse day by day. Whom would you desperately reach out first? You would reach the person whom you are connected well in your family and that loved one. You will prioritize your friends only later. This is the Universal truth. Sasuke was seen showing that same instinct in the War arc towards Naruto whom he was not related by blood. And you all just want me to believe Sasuke sees him as just a friend?? Give me a break!!!

If all those traits I’ve mentioned above have been avoided to a greater extent, I would be happy to believe that they are friends. If not all, at the very least delegate some of the tropes to other people or share some of the tropes with other people along with Naruto. But dumping it all on Naruto alone makes me only curious and incredibly romantic too.

It’s no wonder, Naruto would go so far as to reach out Sasuke even at the expense of his life.

Oh, Did I forget about the cutest and most exclusive trope to SNS?

U-SU-RA-TON-KA-CHI, the most personal word which carries its own meaning and is only for Naruto. So funny that Sasuke has to spend a certain amount of energy to call Naruto using a 6 syllabic word rather than NA-RU-TO, a 3 syllabic word which is much easier.

Disclaimer: This post constituted everything from from Chapter 1 to 699 or Episode 1 to 135 (part 1) + Episode 1 to 479 (Shippuden) excluding fillers. Though Sasuke shinden novel was made into anime, I don’t want to consider that here. As much as I loved the prologue in that novel, I still don’t want to cite that here, as I consider everything after 699 is $$$$ making bullshit.

FUN FACT:

If you put yourself in any character in the Naruto Universe except for Naruto, and ask them, ‘What do you think about Sasuke?’. You know the answer from Sakura, she will say ‘Sasuke-Kun looks very cool and acts aloof, that’s why I love him’. Kakashi will say ‘My favorite student’. And all the other people will say somewhat similar, ‘He is an excellent Shinobi who belongs to the proud Uchiha clan and Naruto’s rival’

But Naruto will be the only person to say this.

“Lot of fun to be around” ....... LOLLLLL.

Me: No, Naruto!!! Clearly not. No one in your universe can have fun with him except you. Go and Ask Sai, Team Taka or your own Team 7. They adore him for being Cool and Talented. But Fun is not the word that equates with Sasuke unless there is no You, Naruto.

Thanks for reading :-D

#sasunaru #narusasu #sasunarusasu #sns #naruto #sasuke #naruto uzumaki #sasuke uchiha #anti sakura #itachi #anti sasusaku #anti naruhina #naruto analysis #naruto and sasuke arent brothers as they never shared a womb #if you see your friend with all these traits then you are no longer just friend

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yoonpobs · 3 years

Text

bad boy good thing xiv.

pairing: jeon jungkook x oc

genre: angst, smut, fluff, miscommunication (we hate her lol), pining

warnings: smut, jungkook is really an asshole, the angst hurts a lot tbh, unhealthy relationships (?)

words: 5, 690

summary: a series of drabbles where you're confused and jungkook's confusing

a/n:

hello!!!! we’re here at fourteen chapters omg ✨✨when i first started this series it was mostly self-indulgent and now there are people who actually enjoy reading it??🥺 it almost doesn’t seem real T.T

thank you so much for the love and support!!! just so I don't give too much spoilers for this chap - I apologise to my fellow geminis for the potential slander 🤣 this is more of a self-drag lmaooo

anyway, I hope you enjoy this chap!!!

“Ah. I’m getting allergies.” Yena sniffs, scrunching her nose.

You furrow your brows in concern, “Are you okay? Do you need any medicine?”

“It’s just the seasonal changes,” She brushes you off.

You nod in understanding, “I get it. My mom has horrible reactions towards pollen so—”

“I’m not allergic to flowers.” She blinks.

“Then what—?”

“It’s Gemini season. It’s like—literally the worst time of the year.” She blinks.

You gawk at her, taking a whole ten seconds to process her serious tone when she doesn’t waver under your scrutiny.

“I’m a Gemini,” You inform her slowly.

“I mean …” She shrugs all as you scowl at her, opting to throw the closest object you had, which was your favourite pen so you decide against it; simply shooting her the meanest glare you could possibly muster.

“Look, it’s not you,” She sighs, and you’re half-expecting her to finish with an it’s me to make you scoff, “It’s me.” And there you go. “I mean, it’s Gemini’s in general because they’re two-faced bitches who have the worst emotional attachment issues. Like they’re literally what the opposite of glue is. And they’re so over-analytical. How is it like psychoanalysing every person you meet only to hurt your own feelings and sulk about it?”

You blink.

“I mean it’s not you but if the shoe fits.” She says casually, plopping a grape into her mouth that you’re tempted to slap away.

“You’re so mean!” You pout indignantly.

She cackles, throwing her head back as you continue to sulk. You weren’t that bad. You just … you were risk-averse! You liked having the freedom to observe everyone and anyone and package them into tiny compartments in your head so you could understand them better. You weren’t … that Gemini.

“You’re so cute,” She coos pinching your cheeks. “No wonder Beef One and Beef Two like you so much.” She teases.

Your first reaction is to blush because you know who exactly she’s talking about, but you have more pressing matters, like—

“You have nicknames for them?” You ask, baffled.

“Hey, I wasn’t friends with many girls in high school. Don’t girls usually have nicknames for their crushes?” She says through a pout.

You stay expressionless as you try to gauge the level of seriousness you can extract from her tone.

You realise she’s dead serious.

“Yeah, but we’re in college,” You argue, scrunching your nose, “And sides’, it’s not like they’re strangers. We know them.”

She rolls her eyes, waving you off like you were the inconvenience here. Then she leans forward, her eyes twinkling as she takes a complete one-eighty that you try to adjust to.

“So … you Gemini hoe, what’s your plans?” She nudges you.

You raise a brow, “Did you just call me a—?”

“Plans, ___. Stay on track.” She scolds.

You sigh, still fond but you pretend to be annoyed. You really couldn’t get annoyed with Yena. After all, the more time you spend with her the more you realise how much life sucked before you had her in your life. You spent each moment learning more about her quirks and habits, her choice of words that made you giggle or laugh until you were crying.

And you realise that this is how she loves, a little rough but welcomed nonetheless.

“If you’re talking about my birthday then … not much. I’m probably stuck doing admin work for the college’s charity programme.” You shrug, stabbing a fork into your soiled salad.

Yena gapes at you, “Not much—excuse me? It’s your birthday! You’re turning twenty-five!”

You look at her dryly, “I’ve been twenty-five since the year—”

She groans, “That’s not the same! You’re like—officially twenty-five. You’re literally hitting the mark for a quarter-life crisis. Isn’t that something to celebrate?”

“Me going through an existential crisis at the end of my degree is not how I want to celebrate my birthday but okay,” You blink.

She rolls her eyes at your realism.

“That’s not the point. Point is, this is our first birthday together and I want it to be special.” She points out.

You snort, “What? Are we doubling my birthday as our monthsary or something?”

She shoves you with a brute force that has you snickering but she continues to pester you anyway.

“You’re so dumb. So smart, but so dumb,” She shakes her head, “You’re always studying or doing some form of work that requires the use of more than one brain cell. You deserve a break. Besides, you have two dudes to pick from on how you’d like to be wined and dined and—”

“Yena!” You whine.

“—it’ll be like an episode of the Bachelorette! But just with a super cool and smart best friend that’ll make the decision for you. It’s not your birthday. It’s ours.” She emphasises towards the end.

You stare at her for a long second, before the two of you are bursting into laughter at the absurdity of her statement.

It was nice, just to laugh about things without having your heart feel so heavy. Even if it was a mild distraction, it was still wholly pleasant to be able to just talk about mindless things that didn’t require much mental gymnastics to navigate the conversation with.

“What are the two of you laughing about?” Taehyung and Jimin arrive at impeccable timing, sliding into the booth with their own packaged food. It’s very college-student-esque, a cute paper (because no plastic) container filled with an array of assortments.

“None of your XY chromosomes business.” Yena retorts.

Jimin blinks, “You are literally so hostile.”

“Then don’t give me a reason to be.” She sticks her tongue out petulantly.

You laugh, nudging her with your shoulder, “Be nice.”

Taehyung rolls his eyes but manages to keep a civil smile on his face. Always the more rational one between the two.

“Anyway, Yena definitely isn’t going to answer me so, what’s up?” He turns to look at you.

You roll your eyes but it’s half-hearted, “She wants to celebrate my birthday like we’re on the Bachelorette.”

“Like you’re on the Bachelorette.” She corrects.

“Oh my God, our baby’s turning twenty-five!” Jimin coos at the reminder, pinching your cheeks as he coddles you. You scowl and weakly shove him away, even if you preen under the attention.

“I’m literally older than the both of you.” You huff.

Yena blinks, “There’s no way I’m the oldest person at this table.”

Taehyung furrows his brows, “Wait—how old are you?”

She sends him a scathing glare that has his arms raised up in defence.

“Jeez, okay. Don’t answer.”

“I’m going to answer because you told me not to.” She clips. “I’m twenty-seven.”

Jimin blinks, “No wonder you and Yoongi hyung are so alike.”

You almost miss it, but as Yena so eloquently pointed out, you were a sucker for psychoanalysing people (even if you didn’t want to admit it yet) that you notice the way she flushes ever so slightly as she scoffs.

“Him? How dare you compare me to that sorry excuse of a—!”

“Okay, everyone is beneath you. I’m sorry your highness.” Jimin rolls his eyes.

You make a note to ask her about it because you know for a fact that Yoongi ‘complains’ about Yena every hour he can. It’s almost as if he can’t go long enough without mentioning her.

You smile to yourself as you duck your head.

“Exactly,” She flips her hair over her shoulders before turning to face you. “Anyway, back to you—our baby.”

Taehyung nods, “Exactly, the baby.”

You scrunch your nose, “Don’t coddle me.”

He pats your head before cooing at you like he would to an actual baby, “But you’re just so cute. You’re too good for this shitty world. Too good for the likes of mere mortals like us.”

“Not me.” Yena blinks before gesturing to their bodies, “You.”

Jimin sticks his tongue out in retaliation as you sigh at their never-ending bickering.

Somehow … it felt right. You think it most of the times but you don’t know any other way to describe how it feels to be back with your friends, laughing, bickering and just appreciating their presence.

When you and Jungkook had your issues, it was like you made the conscious choice to avoid everyone and anyone as much as you could, and any interaction you had during that period was purely out of coincidences and not the intention. You remember actively avoiding Jimin and Taehyung because it felt too draining to pretend like you didn’t have a battle in your head. Even studying or spending time with Namjoon made you feel guilty, the thought of Jungkook lingering in your mind. Yena was there through it all, but even then you saw her as much as you did with any of your classmates you so happened to share a class with.

In fact, if it weren’t for Yena you’d probably have zero social interactions as a whole because she just knew. She somehow picked up on your internal conflicts but never outwardly shamed you or confronted you about it. All she did was be there for you, offering you her presence and you were grateful.

So, yeah. Things were better, but your heart was still at its core—confused. Your feelings for Jungkook didn’t disappear overnight and you knew that you were the one that asked for space.

You forgave him … you did, honestly. But there are things you can’t forget, and those are the things that you wished you could. The words he said in principle, was outright shitty. But the fact that it came from him only poked at every single one of your insecurities that you developed over the years.

You knew it wasn’t healthy to compare yourself to other women when they were living vastly different lives than you were, but it’s proven difficult when you’re forced to see these type of women every day, at college, in your community work or on the media.

Believing Jungkook’s apparent feelings for you was harder because, well. Jungkook was Jungkook. He wasn’t just another guy, and despite his shortcomings, he had more merits than he’d let on and you knew that people saw that. It was also the fact that Jungkook had a charm that drew all types of people in. He was soft-spoken but passionate, and people loved a quiet achiever.

You … knew about the women. Way before Jennie and way before the thing between the two of you happened. Jimin and Taehyung would always update you about the new fling or girl he had tied to his hip just as he was in his final year in high school. You had to force a smile every single time they’d snicker and joke about how your Jungkook suddenly became a man overnight.

And you noticed the trend with the women he liked. They were … captivating. Beautiful wasn’t even enough to describe them because they looked like they could carry the world on their shoulders and spark immense change with just the movement of their lips. They were confident and charismatic, outgoing and just the right amount of flirty. You were anything but.

It sucked, majorly, because you spent years agonising over the fact that you were already coined with the older sister title in the group because of the way you acted—just a little more uptight than the average woman your age. You were quiet but loud in the right company; you didn’t like crowds, socialising or mingling around with people you didn’t know and based on your observations it seemed like that was the only thing that Jungkook’s been doing ever since he made it to senior year in high school, and even in the first years of college.

You don’t resent him, you think. You couldn’t blame him because you weren’t honest either. You consented, to all of the kisses and touches even if he hadn’t officially had sex with you. You wanted to, but you were terrified. Not at the prospect of penetration but at the prospect of not being enough and the fact that Jungkook was the only person you wanted to have sex with while he had options that were far more attractive and experienced than you were.

That’s why you needed time because at least you could get your shit together even if it was an uphill battle.

“Earth to ____?” Taehyung waves a hand in front of your face with a concerned expression.

You blink, snapping out of your daze as you offer a meek smile and an apology.

“We just asked you if you wanted a small get together at Tae’s and I’s place for your birthday?” Jimin asks.

“Really?” You beam. That was exactly what you preferred.

“Yeah, we know you don’t like clubs and stuff. Just a small and intimate gathering with all your best buds.” He grins.

You nod your head, but Yena beats you to a response.

“By best buds you mean the three friends she has, which is us and the two meatheads duelling for her affection.” She snorts.

You flush, “Y-Yena!”

Taehyung snickers at your embarrassment.

“It doesn’t help that both of them are literally the biggest dudes on the football team. It’s literally like watching King Kong and Godzilla getting into a fight for world domination.”

Jimin throws his back in laughter as you fold your arms across your chest at post at the way your friends are practically crying in laughter at the image. Jimin was clutching onto Taehyung for his dear life because if he didn’t then he’d fall off the chair.

“Stop,” You whine, “you guys are being mean.”

“Oh my God, you’re literally the only person on this earth that would take two people fighting for your attention as an offence.” Taehyung groans.

“I-It’s not that!” You deny exasperatedly, “I-It’s just … awkward …”

Jimin sighs with a small smile, patting your head.

“If it’s any consolation I think it’s offensive that Jungkook thinks he even has the right to breathe in—”

“Jimin!”

“Wow. It really is like King Kong and Godzilla.” Jimin whistles lowly, eyeing the scene before him with amusement lingering in his eyes.

“Do you think they’re gonna start slamming their chests soon or …?” Taehyung trails off in a whisper, leaning into Jimin so that the two other men wouldn’t notice.

“I can literally hear you.” You say dryly.

Jimin offers you a plastic smile, “You’re meant to hear us, babe. How about you try to tame them like Jane did with Tarzan?”

Jimin nearly shrieks when you shove him so fiercely that he topples over into Taehyung’s grasp as the second part of the duo only catches him in the process.

You sigh, completely ignoring the way that Jimin’s muttering curses that were directed to you under his breath. Instead, you were transfixed on the scene before you—which specifically is Jungkook and Namjoon staring each other down through the mirror of the gym. You were lucky that it was just the five of you since Namjoon was able to use his captain privileges to book the gym because you had no idea how to explain the fact that two big-sized men were attempting to outdo each other in their circuit reps as if they were on a suicide mission.

“Listen, when I agreed to help you out with your sets I thought I was meant to help log it in for a report.” You exasperate, but the two men continue their manly lift-off as they huff and puff their exertion away.

“Trust me, you are helping. Being the motivation is more than—”

This time it’s Taehyung who faces your wrath as you thwack him upside the head.

From where Jungkook and Namjoon were, Jungkook can only deliver death stares into the direction of his captain who returns it tenfold. He wasn’t even sure why they were doing this but something a flicked definitely switched in Jungkook when Namjoon (purposefully) revealed that you were helping out with something. At the gym. Supposedly alone.

Jungkook’s primitive side came out because the next thing Namjoon knew was that Jungkook managed to drag himself, and Jimin and Taehyung as a diversion. He still feels his chest swell with pride when recalling the scowl on Namjoon’s face when he entered the gym, all fake smiles and a pep in his step.

“____, could you help me spot?” Namjoon breathes, sitting up from whatever the hell he was doing with the barbell. You weren’t fixated with gym language and you weren’t even sure why he was asking you when there was an entire Jimin and Taehyung right next to you.

“Uh, okay sure—“

“Noona,” Jungkook calls.

You freeze.

“Jungkook … I thought we established that you don’t need to call me that anymore.” You raise an eyebrow.

You miss the obvious glare that Namjoon shoots his bitchass friend, as well as the snorts that leave Jimin and Taehyung’s mouth.

“Pay attention to me,” Jungkook pouts. Like, actually pouts. You somehow flush because he seemed so much like the younger version of Jungkook who used to always coddle you for attention.

“Okay but after I help—”

“Yeah. After she helps me.” Namjoon interjects, and you nearly jump at the way he’s suddenly behind you, more so—pressed against your back with his hands on your hips as he moves you aside to get to another piece of equipment.

Your breath hitches because while you weren’t exactly invested in Namjoon in the romantic sense, he was undeniably attractive and … big. You could salivate in private.

“Oh my God, do you see that?” Taehyung hisses in a hushed whisper.

“Hyung is petty,” Jimin gawks.

“This is Namjoon we’re talking about. Didn’t he steal all the umbrellas from your dorm because you ratted him out to the librarian when he broke a bookshelf?” Taehyung recalls.

Jimin pauses to retract his mind to that moment.

“He’s so petty and I’m living for it. Look at Kook’s face,” He snickers, nudging Taehyung with his shoulder.

Jungkook only can clench his jaw in return because he knew that you wouldn’t be a fan of him reaching out to strangle the shit out of Namjoon. But the older boy seems fine, if not pleased with how Jungkook’s fuming in his own spot.

“Let me just …” You cock a thumb to Namjoon, before releasing a breath of your own and going to help him with whatever he needed in the first place.

“Jimin can help him. I have a more pressing problem.” He complains.

You stop in your tracks before turning around, raising an eyebrow at Jungkook who finally sits up, still staring at you like you held all the solutions in the world.

“Literally wait for your turn,” Namjoon scowls.

“My arm hurts,” Jungkook says, raising his arm to show you.

“I don’t … see anything?” You furrow your brows.

“Because my muscles hurt, Noona,” Jungkook emphasises with a flex of his bicep and you can feel yourself get hot in the way your eyes can’t stray away.

You’re momentarily distracted by the blatant display of muscle by Jungkook that you completely miss the way that Jimin and Taehyung are struggling to breathe because of how hard they’re stifling their laughter or the way that Namjoon is contemplating on throwing the nearest dumbbell into Jungkook’s direction.

You flush, “Okay, you know what? Wait here. Let me get the first aid kit.” You mumble, quickly scampering off to alleviate yourself from the situation.

The moment you leave the room, Namjoon takes two long strides until he reaches where Jungkook’s sat, before wrapping a hand around the arm that was supposedly hurt—and squeezes.

“Ow! What the fuck hyung?!” Jungkook shrieks.

“Don’t hyung me, you brat.” Namjoon seethes, “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Jungkook gapes, while Jimin and Taehyung watch in amusement.

“Me?! What’s wrong with you?” Jungkook retorts, equally as agitated, “Oh, _____, help spot me! Woe is me! Like she wouldn’t get crushed under you, you meathead!”

“Like you’re any better,” Namjoon snaps, “Oh, Noona, pay attention to me. My arm hurts. You might as well have asked her to change your fucking diapers at the rate you’re acting like a damn child.”

“You’re the one that started all of this!” Jungkook exasperates, “With all due respect hyung, I love you and you’re my captain but I really feel like smashing your head into the wall right now.”

“That’s it?” Namjoon scoffs, “Well I’ll do you one better and let you know that every time you breathe in my direction I feel like—”

“Oh my God will you two idiots shut the fuck up?” Taehyung interjects, snapping at the two boys who pause, staring up at him with wide eyes.

Even Jimin is surprised at Taehyung’s intervention, purely because he was the type that usually let shit slide or let other people put problematic individuals into place. He was the mediator, the diplomat—not usually the aggressor.

“Wha—”

“Another peep and I’m going to smother your body under the dumbbells and leave you here to rot and die.” Taehyung seethes, staring straight into Jungkook’s soul.

That shuts him up.

“Both of you are acting like goddamn children, and for what? To battle out your masculinity to see who gets ____’s attention first?” Taehyung exasperates.

Namjoon clears his throat, “We were just—”

“—acting like a bunch of barbarians who’s never seen civilisation?” Taehyung retorts dryly, “Yeah. Because that’s exactly what this looks like. The two of you are so petty and for what? You two are literally rubbing the last remaining brain cells you have with each other but nothing is coming out from it. Like—nothing. Do you think she’d give a shit which one of you can lift more reps? That means absolutely nothing! She’s already freaked the fuck out at the prospect of her childhood best friend being in love with her and now we have Big Tit Number One and Two battling it out like you’re in the Greek Olympics.”

Jungkook blinks, and Jimin is mildly impressed.

“So before she comes back and tends to Jungkook’s hurt muscle,” Taehyung sneers, eyes narrowing at a guilty-looking Jungkook, “Both of you better sort your shit out.”

Namjoon flushes, embarrassed at the prospect of being called out, all while Jungkook is avoiding eye contact at all costs.

“Oh my God, do you have a crush on each other or something? Apologise!” Taehyung gestures towards the two boys who awkwardly blink at each other, feeling much like reprimanded children.

It’s Namjoon who breaks the silence first, clearly the more mature one in the situation.

“Look … Jungkook,” He sighs, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to … drag it out like this. I don’t mean it maliciously and you’re my friend and teammate, so I’d really hate if a girl got in the way.”

Jungkook nibbles on his lips, eyebrows still scrunched; and the irrational part of him tells him to ignore the apology. But with the way that Taehyung is glaring him down, with Jimin’s expectant gaze, he knows that he doesn’t have much of a choice.

“I’m sorry … too,” he winces at his own voice, “But just to let you know … I really …” He shuts his eyes, feeling his chest tighten when he tries to force the words out, “She isn’t just … a girl to me, hyung. I really, really like her. And—I know you like her too but … I fucked up and I really want to make things right and seeing you—”

Jungkook is flushing while he rambles on, fully aware that the rest of his friends are listening intently to him speaking his heart. But a hand rests itself on his shoulder, and when Jungkook opens his eyes he sees Namjoon offering him a gentle smile.

“I know,” He says, “I know I said I wouldn’t back off …” He trails off and Jungkook recalls the conversation he had with him in the very same gym just a few weeks back, “But I don’t think I can compete with a decade long love story.”

Jungkook scoffs, though his ears are flushed.

“It’s really not—”

Namjoon waves him off, clasping a tight hand onto his back that tells him it’s okay, and whatever that was going on would get better. And Jungkook feels marginally better and allows himself to let out a sigh of release.

“So are the two of you gonna kiss or what?” Jimin asks in the midst of the silence.

Namjoon glares at the boy, “Don’t make me give you an extra ten laps.”

He backs down immediately, raising his hands up in defence. And at that moment, you return, all smiles and with a pant as you raise the first aid kit up.

“Your arm?” You smile sweetly, and Jungkook can only offer a weak on in return.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Depends. Will I have to run from the government if I answer you honestly?” Yena ponders out loud.

You roll your eyes but shake your head anyway. The two of you were meant to be cooking dinner but you’ve surrendered yourself to Netflix and Yena’s witty live commentary on horrible films you were scrolling through an hour earlier. Though, your head wasn’t quite in it, to begin with; your thoughts drifting to other aspects, ones that you thought too hard for and didn’t necessarily know the answer to.

It was frustrating, the way that you wanted to have a solution for everything but overthought every single case that happens to pass by your mind.

“No one’s hunting anyone down, your anarchist,” You say, “This is a little … personal.”

You didn’t have any girl friends prior to Yena, and that was your first mistake. You weren’t the person that actively avoided having girl friends because you thought they were dramatic or overly emotional but purely because you never knew how to befriend women. It was weird—being a woman yet being muddled with your own sense of femininity that suppressed your ability to form meaningful friendships with your women peers.

Throughout most of your childhood and teenaged life, you only had Jimin, Taehyung and Jungkook. While they were more than enough to keep your memories cheerful and filled with laughter, there were more personal things that you couldn’t quite approach them with. They had each other to confide in their ‘manly’ discussions, small talk that you’d often flush at—but you couldn’t ask them the same things you wanted to.

You knew, that on a fundamental level that your personal things were just … things. It wasn’t that deep, nor did it require a PhD in Gender Studies to fully understand the nuance of periods or apparent ‘girl’ problems; you just needed to listen. But you were timid, and you got embarrassed super easily—so that never boded well whenever you’d want to approach them with a question of your own.

But now, you had Yena—debatably the most open and understanding person you’ve met in your life; and you owed it to yourself, and her—to be honest, to live yourself vicariously in your girl best friends eyes—and ask:

“How do you have sex?”

Granted, there was definitely a smoother way of peeling off the bandaid, but you supposed if you were going to be discussing this one way or another, you’d go big or go home.

“I’m sorry,” She coughs, “What?”

You blink.

“Sorry, I guess I should’ve asked if you were a virgin first …” You mumble.

Yena stares at you with a stupefied expression as she gapes at you.

“Hey, repeat after me: candy, tree and cat.” She grabs you by your shoulders.

“I’m not cerebrally compromised, Yena,” you say dryly.

“Repeat,” She glares.

You huff, shoving her hand off your shoulder.

“Candy, tree and cat. There, happy?” You huff.

She eyes you weirdly as you sigh.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yes!” You exasperate, “So like … how? Do you just? Penetrate?”

Yena blinks one more time, her eyes trailing to the ceiling as she asks for a higher being to give her strength before she returns her gaze onto your figure.

“Babe, that is literally the unsexiest way to approach sex.”

“Penetration?” You furrow your brows.

She scrunches her brows, “No.” She gestures to you, “That.”

You scowl.

“I don’t know how to approach sex! That’s why I’m asking you. I literally don’t know who else to approach. If I went to Jimin or Taehyung I’m pretty sure they’d just stare at me and cry. Namjoon is out of the picture because he’d likely approach sex textbook style and I don’t need that level of detail right now. I definitely can’t ask Jungkook because he’s the guy I wanna have sex with. So yeah. I’m here because you’re a woman and the only person I can have a full conversation with without losing my will to live.”

Yena gawks at you, jaw slack as you finish your ramble; ears flushed.

“… you …” She begins, wracking her brain for the words that seem to fail her, “… okay. You know what, the fact that you’re here and putting your big girl pants on and asking me this is a feat in itself so I’m going to just ignore the fact that you said you wanted to have sex with Jungkook.”

You flush, “I was word vomiting—”

“Ah,” She holds her hands up, levelling you with a knowing glare, “If you want honest, you be honest too.”

You slump in your seat, sighing as you nod your head defeatedly.

“Firstly, I’m not a virgin. I could never be a virgin.” Yena declares, “Granted, I’ve slept with three people and two of them were women. But the idiot I lost my virginity to was, unfortunately, of XY chromosomes so … I guess I can answer your questions.”

“I mean … I know how sex works but … approaching it …” You mutter.

“And sex isn’t this groundbreaking act that requires Einstein’s IQ to partake in. It’s both intimate and not, and that’s definitely a personal preference. You can know the semantics of how people have sex, for hets in this case, which is just the classic ol’ penetration method where the penis enters the—”

“Your point?” You exasperate.

“—okay, I got a little carried away. But really, sex isn’t … difficult. It’s scary, I’ll give you that. But you don’t go into your first time thinking you’ll be great at it. Hell, you won’t even like sex that much your first few times unless your partner is a sex demon or something.”

“I mean when Jungkook …” You shudder, “When he … I … you know, did things … it felt …” You fiddle with your fingers. Your ears were undoubtedly on fire, and you were so embarrassed saying these things out loud because it was just so awkward!

“Good? You know I’m not going to judge you for it,” she says pointedly, “That’s what friends are for, right?”

You flush, covering your face with your hands in embarrassment. You knew that Yena would never judge you for something as trivial and as unimportant as your sexual endeavours, but this was still a road you’ve yet to properly navigate yourself.

“I … came,” you wince at your breathy voice, “It felt good. And … he’s experienced, you know? I just don’t want to …”

Yena looks at you inquisitively.

“You don’t want to …?”

You sigh deeply, considering your next words with a soft murmur, “I don’t want to not live up to his expectations, you know?”

She frowns at you, “Jungkook’s made some mistakes but you said it yourself. He’s in love with you,” she says softly, “There’s no pressure to have sex with him just because it’s out in the open now, you know?”

You nibble on your lips.

“It’s … more than just that,” you tell her, “I told him I needed time, and really, I do. But it isn’t because I’m confused. I mean, kind of—but really it’s because I don’t want to walk into something and disappoint him … I’m just … scared.”

Yena holds your hand in hers while offering you a gentle smile.

“It’s valid that you’re scared. But there really isn’t anything that can come out of being scared right now. The two of you worked through an obstacle, and here you are creating another one that doesn’t quite exist yet. Trust me, when the time feels right, it does. And you’ll feel ready. Will you still be scared? Maybe. But it’ll feel like it’s meant to fit within your timeline.”

You nibble on your lips, “Is it bad that I’m overthinking this?” You wince.

Yena shrugs her shoulders, “Like everything else in your life?” She teases.

You whine, shoving at her shoulder playfully where all Yena does is snicker in response. You weren’t quite sure what you were expecting out of the conversation, even if it was vaguely about the ins and outs of sexual exploration. And she was right, you’ll always be afraid of something, whether it’ll benefit you or harm you because that’s what change does. It shifts your comfort zone into a space that may be unfamiliar but necessary.

You lean into Yena’s shoulder, and a wave of overwhelming emotion washes upon you when you look at her. You really didn’t know how you survived a time without Yena in your life. And as if she’s noticed your glassy gaze, she raises an eyebrow at you.

“What are you looking at?”

You grin at her, all teeth and gums on display as you hug onto her arm like a koala.

“I’m just really happy you’re in my life.” You sigh wistfully.

She pauses for one whole second before she snorts.

“Wow, talk about sex once and suddenly you’re in love with me?” She wiggles her eyebrows at you, “Tell Jeon and Kim that you’re mine now.”

You giggle, rolling your eyes.

“They’re not even competing in the same league as you are,” you assure her.

She smiles.

“So … does that mean I don’t need to get you a birthday gift?”

That earns a thwack on her shoulder.

549 notes · View notes

merakiaes · 4 years

Text

Hate You, Hate You Not - Armitage Hux

Pairing: General Armitage Hux x reader

Requested: By anon.

Prompts: #1 & #58 from the fluff-list.

Warnings/notes: (SHOULD I MAKE A PART 2 WITH MORE ROMANCE IN IT?) This ended up being much longer than I planned so it's most likely very boring and dull😭 Might be a bit, if not a lot, out of character since this is kinda my test-run for Hux and Star Wars in general. Getting the characters mannerisms in might take some practice. Not proofread so I apologize in advance for any mistakes. This is the first time ever that I write for Star Wars and the first time in like 5-6 months that I’m writing in general so I’m a bit rusty. Please reblog and leave comments to keep my motivation going and let me know if you’d like to be added to a Star Wars taglist <3

Wordcount: 5632

Summary: One of Kylo Ren’s many tantrums results in your room being inhabitable for a night, which in turn results in you having to share a room - and bed - with the person you hate the most.

Everyone who had ever, at some point in their lives, worked alongside Kylo Ren in his quest to bring the Order to power, knew how much of a hassle and inconvenience his temper, or lack thereof, could be.

Not much was needed for him to lose his cool and it happened on a much too frequent basis than what was considered normal for a man in his early 30s, at least according to you.

Of course, however, you couldn’t actually tell him that, nor could you think it, with the risk of him probing your mind.

So every time he came back from a failed mission and completely obliterated your hard work, you could do nothing but bite your tongue, clear your head and repair the damages like you’d done oh, so many times before.

That’s what you got for being one of the highest-ranked engineers of the Order, you supposed.

But on this day you would’ve, for the first time in your life, very much preferred to repair the damages left behind by your tantrum-prone leader like you always did. Because if that punishment had to be compared to the one you were now facing, you would’ve chosen the former without even a shadow of a doubt.

But, unfortunately, that was not an option this time around, as the room that had fallen victim to the sizzling beam of Kylo Ren’s lightsaber was your bedroom.

Well, not originally, of course, but sparks had flown from the totaled control panels and a piece of supposedly fireproof metal scrap had caught on fire before you and the other engineers reached the room for a damage-control, starting of as a small flame and then proceeding to spread like wildfire as fire did, in ways completely unbeknownst to you as, like already mentioned, the place was supposed to be safe from fires.

The licking flames had managed to melt through several walls before you got to the scene, and one of those walls was the wall to your bedroom.

It was late when it happened, only fifteen minutes before you were supposed to end your shift, and as you were on the verge of having a mental fucking breakdown, you personally requested an audience with Kylo and were granted permission by him after a very carefully-worded explanation to start early in the morning.

But that only took care of one of your problems, and only temporarily at that. Now you were left with the issue of finding other sleeping accommodations since your room was currently not habitable. You had no choice but to ask for another room and, of course, Hux thought that to be the perfect time to crack a sarcastic joke about throwing you into one of the prisoner cells.

You had never, in all your years of being alive, glared so fiercely at another human being as you did then. And in your moment of anger, you accidentally let your walls down and let your thoughts run freely through your head – your annoyance directed at the General, but also at Kylo Ren, being exposed.

You felt it before you saw it – that little prickle in your head, that little sting of your mind being probed – and only a second later, Kylo Ren turned his masked head in your direction, walked up to you with patronizingly slow steps and spoke:

“I think you’ll find that General Hux’s quarters will suffice for the night, until repairs can be done to your own. He has more than enough space for both of you.”

He turned his head to look at the baffled man standing behind him, all of the attitude he had previously been harboring against you now completely melted away.

“Isn’t that right, General?” Kylo continued asking, giving him the time he needed to regain his composure.

The general in question had never been very good at holding his tongue, not even when receiving orders from superiors, and was quick to protest.

As anyone would’ve been able to guess, that didn’t go very well, and you weren't even gonna try hiding the satisfaction you got from seeing Hux be force-choked against a wall for speaking out of turn.

No matter how good both of you were at hiding your spiteful thoughts toward him, Kylo knew how much the two of you hated him. And more than anything, he knew how much you hated each other.

Kylo had become very predictable to you during the time you had been there and you knew his ways good enough to know that he wouldn’t have wasted petty energy in putting the two most hateful people he knew in the same room if he hadn’t been pushed to do so.

You knew that you weren’t the reason in this scenario, despite the fact that he had probably felt your spite directed towards him, which only left one option; and that option was the bitter, infuriatingly stubborn ginger currently walking by your side.

You glanced at him from the corner of your eye and glared, clenching and unclenching your fists at your sides in the same manner you had been doing ever since Kylo had ruled his decision final and dismissed you for the night.

His eyes remained trained on the metallic corridor that seemed to be stretched out for miles in front of you and your blood boiled at the sight.

You would’ve lost your shit if he’d had the nerve to even consider looking at you after putting you in this situation, but at the same time, you were also on the verge of losing your shit about him having the audacity to ignore you.

You wanted to scream at him like you’d never screamed at anyone before, but you knew that doing that would only fuel the petty grudge Kylo had against the two of you and give him more ways to cause you torment. The only thing you and the general would ever have in common was not wanting that.

But still, what harm could a tiny bit of friendly banter do?

“You just couldn’t help yourself, could you, Armitage?” The question you’d been sucking on for the past few minutes finally slipped out into the air, making your anger known.

“Don’t call me that.”

“My apologies.” You sarcastically shot back with a dry laugh. “You just couldn’t help yourself, could you, general?”

“No, it was awfully tempting.” Was all that he replied, his eyes not once flickering and neither his stone-cold scowl nor fast-paced stride faltering.

Well, you might have absolutely despised each other but in the very least, you never bothered lying to each other. That had to count for something, right? Not that either of you cared.

No more words were exchanged, and that was probably for the best. Engineers and stormtroopers all moved out of your way as the two of you marched through the corridors, side by side, knowing better at this point than to get on your bad sides when you were together and this obviously angry both with each other and in general.

Soon enough, you finally reached the corridor in which Hux’s sleeping quarters were located and once the mechanic doors slid open, you pushed yourself past him into the room before he even got the chance to react.

He fumed behind you as he watched you make yourself at home, dropping your dirty jacket on his perfectly made bed.

“You’ll take the floor, then?” You asked as you turned around, crossing your arms over your chest and shooting him a forced smile.

“Hardly.” He spat, eyes narrowing, and you scoffed, rolling your eyes in return.

“You must be a real hit with the ladies with those manners.”

At that, he stepped further into his room, allowing the sensory-triggered door to shut behind him, successfully shutting the two of you in together.

“I don’t have time for fooling around with women.” He spat out the last word with such malice that you automatically raised an eyebrow.

“Well, that explains it.” You mused, the corner of your lip tugging upwards ever so slightly.

“Explains what, exactly?” His eyes narrowed further, and this time it was his turn to cross his arms.

“That stick you have up your ass.” You wasted no time in shooting back, and before he got a chance to reply, you continued. “I know this might be news to you seeing as you’re, well, you, but gentlemen are supposed to sacrifice their comfort and offer themselves to take the floor when a lady, due to unfortunate circumstances, is forced to stay in their room.”

You sarcastically smiled at him and sank down his bed, something that he, judging by the snarl overtaking his face, didn’t appreciate.

“You, a lady? That will be the day.” He scoffed. “Even calling you a woman is a stretch with your mannerisms.”

You could only roll your eyes.

“Well, I’m not sharing a bed with you.” The glare that had temporarily been exchanged for a teasing smirk returned to your face. “I’d rather share a bed with Millicent.”

As you said that, you picked up a single strand of cat hair from his bed, held it up for further inspection and raised your lip in disgust.

He stared at you dead serious, hands clasped behind his back and eyes burning holes into the side of your face.

“You’re allergic to cats.” He pointed out, making your head whip back around to face him with a glare equally as fierce as the one you were met with.

“Yes, that’s my point.” You deadpanned. “But it would seem that said point just went right over your thick-skulled head.”

“Do you think I am any happier about this than you are?” He scowled, and you stood up, slowly approaching him and coming to a stop right in front of him.

He took a small step back, a move that made your lip tug upward ever so slightly. The fact that he was so obviously not as tough as he wanted people to believe gave you a special kind of satisfaction and he knew it, judging by the way he only turned stiffer after that.

“You should be.” You smiled sweetly at him, keeping your eyes connected to his. “Because you’re sure as hell lucky I haven’t choked the life out of you yet for getting us into this situation in the first place.”

He glared and you glared right back, challenging, no, daring him to fight back. You knew that he wanted to, you could see that he wanted to, but in the end, not even he was that stupid.

So he said nothing, and once you realized you had finally managed to successfully back him into a corner, you backed away from him again and plastered on another forced, overly sweet smile.

“Now, I need to take a shower. I reek of burnt plastic.” You stated flatly and pushed past him, making a beeline for the one extra door in the room that you could only assume was his bathroom.

You heard the squeak of his shoes rubbing against the floor as he quickly turned around behind you, and then came the determined steps and the proximity of his body closing in on you. However, before he got the chance to object or reach you, you entered his bathroom and slammed the door shut in his face, smiling contently to yourself as you listened to the muffled string of curses that followed.

You didn’t spend any more time thinking about it, though, not wasting any time before doing what you came in there to do.

You got out of your horrid-smelling clothes, released your equally as nasty-smelling hait from its ponytail and stepped into the shower.

If there was one thing you appreciated a little extra about living at the Starkiller Base, it was that everyone used the same scented soap. Because that meant that you wouldn’t have to go around smelling specifically like Hux, but rather just like you always smelled.

Once you finished washing your hair and body, you had to stop and think for a bit.

Your clothes obviously still reeked and needed a proper wash before they could be worn again, and you obviously couldn’t go naked.

After much thought back and forth, you finally settled with your own leggings as they were the one piece of clothing from your previous attire that smelled the least of smoke, and a plain black, long-sleeved undershirt that you found in a pile of Hux’s clean laundry.

Once you vad gotten dressed, braided your hair and re-entered the bedroom accompanied by a stream of steam, you found it to be empty, Hux nowhere in sight.

You couldn’t deny that you wondered where he’d gone off to, but you shook your head free of his face pretty quickly, settling with believing that he just went to take his frustration out on some poor stormtrooper or low-rank intern like he so often did when things didn’t go his way, much like Kylo Ren beat the shit out of any control panel he could get his hands on.

While you awaited his return, you occupied yourself with going around the room and lighting the small night-lamps like you normally did in your own room before going to bed.

That obviously didn’t take long, however, so you were soon enough once again left alone with your boredom and started walking around the room, inspecting all of Hux’s belongings.

You realized pretty quickly that he was not a person to whom inanimate things had much sentimental value, as he definitely didn’t have much to his name aside from the basic interior that all of the sleeping quarters on the base had.

He had a ring on his drawer, a few books in one of his two bookshelves while the other stood empty, a small bed in a corner for his cat, clothes in his wardrobe, and that was pretty much it. He had no pictures of family, no real personal belongings that could signify any kind of emotional value.

But then again, who did in these parts?

“Is that my shirt?”

You jumped when you heard the sudden voice behind you, quickly turning around where you stood twirling the ring you had found in the light of the lamp standing beside you.

Your eyes found his form immediately, shocked meeting stern.

“Why are you wearing my shirt?” He almost instantly repeated himself when not getting a reply the first time, slowly beginning to walk in your direction with his hands clasped behind his back.

You quickly put the ring back down on the dresser and turned towards him, regaining your composure.

“Well, if you hadn’t noticed, my room and everything in it was burnt to a crisp. The smokey smell on my clothes was giving me a headache and kind of would have ruined the purpose of taking a shower so when I just so conveniently noticed a pile of clean clothes, I helped myself.” You shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal, and to you, it wasn’t.

Hux, however, didn’t seem amused in the slightest.

“Yes, you seem to have a habit of thinking you’re entitled to everything you want.” He spat back at you, coming to a stop while there was still a good amount of distance between the two of you.

Any chill you had previously had melted right off and your annoyance quickly returned at the sound of his words.

“Oh, do excuse me. I just thought one headache would be enough.” You retorted and rolled your eyes, before sighing and crossing your arms over your chest. “So, how are we doing this? It’s late and I need to be up early to see to the repairs.”

“I thought that I made myself clear.” Hux was quick to scoff, his glare not faltering for as much as a second. “I’m not giving you my bed.”

Once again, all you could do was roll your eyes. “Well, I guess we’ll just have to suck it up then.” You stated flatly and sat down on the bed, wasting no time in starting to divide the pillows into two piles rather than one.

You took a few seconds to adjust the pillows to suit your needs before looking back up, eyebrow raised at the fact that he had yet to say or do anything.

Your eyes once again met his and you almost laughed out loud at the sight you were faced with, but thankfully managed to control yourself and avoid making the situation even harder than it already was.

Long story short, Hux had never looked more horrified than he did in that moment.

He basically looked at you like you had killed his cat, and that was putting it lightly.

You took a few seconds to just enjoy watching him squirm and silently scramble to make sense of the situation, but even you knew when enough was enough and raised a questioning eyebrow at him in an attempt to get him moving.

“Well? What’s it going to be?” You asked. “It’s either this or the floor, just like it was for me.”

Hux opened his mouth, hesitated, and then closed it again. He obviously hadn’t been expecting you to actually agree on sharing his bed with him and now that you had, he was left at loss for words as he clearly hadn’t been preparing for anything other than you sleeping on the floor.

But after a good moment of just standing there and looking like an idiot, he finally picked himself back up, squared his shoulders and walked around the bed to the other side with frustrated strides and a snarling lip.

The feigned confidence melted right off, however, when he reached his destination and awkwardly shuffled into bed while simultaneously avoiding your amused and mocking stare, silently grabbing the extra blanket that was folded upon his bedside table.

Both of you laid down on your backs and a heavy silence fell like a thick blanket over the room. The only sound you could hear for a few moments were each other’s breaths and your own heartbeats. For a moment, only for a microscopical moment, you were actually on your way to admit to yourself that it was kind of nice.

But that thought went flying out the window just as quickly as it had knocked on the door of your mind when Hux broke the silence by beginning to adjust himself to get ready to sleep, and in the process of doing so made the active choice to tug the pillows from right under your head.

The back of your head hit the mattress with a soft thump and you closed your eyes, your lips pulling into a straight, tight line and one, sharp breath being released through your nose as you attempted to keep your cool.

You took a moment to calm down, before you turned your head to his side of the bed where he now laid with his back to you and tugged the pillows back – maybe with a little too much force than necessary.

Hux had quickly rolled over to his other side to take them back and in anger and an eagerness to get to sleep, you exclaimed: “Stop stealing the pillows!”

He met you with a stare cold enough to have anyone else shaking in their boots and spat back. “They’re my pillows.”

You grumbled under your breath and let go of one of the two pillows, letting him pull it back to his side while you held on to the last one.

You stared at each other for a moment, both of you eventually coming to a silent, mutual agreement that you were too tired to fight and therefore he'd let you keep the pillow you were holding on to as if your life depended on it.

He, once again, laid down and turned his back to you, his hands holding on to the pillows under his head while you struggled to get comfortable again, this time with only one pillow.

“Why is your bed so damn hard?” You muttered under your breath as you angrily shoved your elbow into the mattress in an attempt to make it more comfortable – as if that was ever going to help.

“Stop complaining.” He only snapped back.

“How could I when I’m stuck in a bed with you?”

“You could’ve asked for other accommodations when you had the chance.”

“And what, be the next victim of Ren’s lightsaber?” You scoffed. “I’m the one in charge of the repairs that are needed every time he throws a wobbly. I’ve seen the kind of damage that thing can do and I’m not in any hurry to find myself at the receiving end of it.”

You muttered the last part under your breath as you finally managed to get relatively comfortable, plopping back down on your back and folding your hands over your stomach.

“How did you know I’m allergic to cats, anyway?” The question spilled out before you could stop yourself, and before you could even register that it was on the way.

Where did that even come from? Cats weren’t even close to being the subject at hand.

Hux didn’t seem to care much about the random change of subject, however, simply muttering back a reply. “You start sniffling and scratching your arms every time you’re in the same room as me for more than five minutes.”

He was clearly tired. Tired in general or just tired of you, you didn’t really know, but you guessed that it was a mixture of both since that was the case for you.

“Maybe I’m just allergic to you.” You muttered back with a shrug, even though he couldn’t see you, and he scoffed at that.

“Had that been the case I’m fairly certain it would go both ways and, unlike you, I don’t go around oozing snot everywhere I go.”

“I don’t go oozing snot everywhere.” You calmly protested, throwing the back of his head a disapproving glare before turning to lay on your side so that your back was now turned to his.

He didn’t say anything else and neither did you, sleep coming in and catching you completely by surprise and having you knocked out within the next two minutes.

When you woke up early that next morning, Hux was unsurprisingly already gone, Millicent instead laying in his place and looking right at you.

With a disgusted snarl and hesitant movements, you reached over to the other side of the bed and awkwardly patted her head twice, probably very much in the incorrect manner as you had no experience whatsoever with animals.

You got out of bed after that, put on your jacket and shoes, and wasted no time in getting to work once you’d gotten some food into your system, your team joining you in the damage-inflicted area to start on repairs like you’d done so many times before.

Everything was going fine and dandy, just a light-reckon day that started off like any other – if you didn’t count waking up in Hux’s bed with his cat – but a few hours into your workday, the unmistakable sound of Kylo Ren’s heavy steps could be heard echoing through the entire corridor you found yourself working in.

A big share of the Order’s pilots had been either killed or badly hurt a few days prior in an ambush. No one had expected any pilots to be needed for at least a few days but Kylo had gotten a sudden lead on the map that would take him to Luke Skywalker and was now walking around the base recruiting anyone capable of helping him get what he wanted.

Unfortunately for you, you were not only a highly-ranked engineer, but also a pretty decent pilot, and couldn’t say anything in protest when you were whisked away to a ship.

As anyone who wasn’t driven by an unhealthy obsession would have been able to guess, the lead was just too good to be true with a way too simple access.

Just like the last lead, this one fell through when it was revealed to be another ambush. You weren’t completely sure what happened, but over the comms, you had heard something about Leia Organa and some scavenger.

You didn’t have time to think about retired war heroes though, no matter how much you’d love to pry and the get in on the gossip, as you had to shoot yourself through a big fleet of Resistance starfighter corps, barely getting through with your ship intact.

Your fellow pilots were shot down one by one, only a small amount of you managing to get out of there. And even then, you were met by more starfighter corps just as quickly as you’d gotten away from the last line.

Everything was just a mess after that. You weren’t able to get through to anyone over the comms, only barely being able to make out a “pull back!” before your comm system was blown to pieces along with one of your main engines.

Along with several other ships, you were forced to crash-land on a small planet filled with thick woods and when your ship collided with the ground, your head slammed into the controls, rendering you unconscious for who knows how long.

By the time you came back to it, you were hanging upside down, the only thing preventing you from falling down being the seatbelt keeping you strapped in.

You struggled to get out of there but you managed, and had to take a moment to get your surroundings to stop spinning before moving forward to look for survivors as well as a ship that wasn’t completely beyond salvation.

You weren’t sure who you’d find, but the person you’d shared a bed with the previous night was definitely the last person you’d expect to have crashed in the same place as you.

And still, you recognized his ship immediately. After all, you were the one who had personalized it to fit his liking.

Lucky for you, his ship seemed to have gotten a pretty soft landing. As you circled around it, you were able to determine that no major engines had been blown out. Damaged? Definitely. But they looked intact enough to at least be able to put some more distance between you and the Resistance pilots and get you to a safer place. Hopefully, the inside would be as untouched as the outside.

The ramp was lowered to the ground but didn’t look broken, so you wasted no time in jogging inside.

The lights were out completely in the entrance area, and just flickering in the ceiling when you came further in.

The first thing you noticed when you entered the piloting pit was that the pilot was not breathing. How could you tell from that far a distance? Well, let’s just say that something that was not supposed to be stuck in his eye, was stuck in his eye.

Upon further inspection, you noticed another body on the floor. However, this one was very much alive.

You would’ve expected to be met by a desperate “help me”, maybe even some begging and pleading or in the very least a “please”, but instead, even when in the process of bleeding out on the floor, Hux narrowed his eyes at you as you approached him and asked you with ragged breaths:

“Is that my shirt?”

You panted as you dropped to your knees at his side, still pretty shaken up from your own crash. “What? No.” You replied in a breath, and you wasted no time in starting to inspect his injuries.

“Yes, it is.”

“Why would I be wearing your shirt?” You asked simply, struggling to see in the dark as the flickering lights weren’t providing much assistance by means of light.

“That’s my shirt.” He kept insisting, and flinched when your hand made contact with his lower abdomen.

Only then did your eyes register the glimmering piece of metal through your blurred and disoriented vision, sticking out of his side.

You flinched at the sight, not needing any more light than you had to know that it was really bad.

Your heart suddenly picked up in speed in your chest, and your hands began shaking as they became covered in his blood.

You had never been in the middle of the action before now, you’d always just been surrounded by metal and electricity. The most exciting thing you’d ever experienced was when a new engineer circuited a control panel the wrong way, resulting in it blowing up right by your workplace.

But it wasn’t the action in itself that had your heart about ready to burst through your chest, nor was it the blood in general, but rather the fact that it was his blood covering your hands.

His life was completely dependent on you at this moment and you had absolutely no idea how to behave accordingly.

But if there was something you knew, it was that the last thing you were supposed to do was to show a dying man your panic, so you took a deep breath and tried your hardest to steady your racing heart, going back to the conversation at hand.

“How could you tell the difference, really?” You asked. “All of our shirts look the same. All black, all equally as sufficient when used to stop blood flows.”

As you said that last part, you released another breath and ripped off a big chunk of the lower part of the shirt you were wearing.

A shirt that was, in fact, Hux's.

The man in question let his head fall back against the wall that he was propped against and his eyes squeezed shut when feeling your hands return to his side.

“Do you always wear shirts several sizes too big?” He managed to get out through clenched teeth and you replied without missing a beat.

“There was a mix-up in the laundry room.”

“So it isn’t your shirt?” He continued to be persistent and despite the seriousness of the situation, you couldn’t help but to let a small smile slip.

“Do you want to keep fighting about whether or not this shirt is mine or would you rather maybe, oh, I don’t know, focus on getting the hell out of here?” You asked him lightly and at that, he raised his head to meet your eyes with a distrusting glare.

“Why are you helping me?”

You raised your eyebrow at him, sparing just a second to meet his eyes. “You have a piece of metal stuck in your side, why the hell would I not help you?” You asked and as quickly as you had looked up, you looked back down at your hands to see what you were doing.

“You hate me, and I hate you.” He deadpanned, and you couldn’t deny you felt your heart tug in your chest.

“Who told you I hated you?” You asked, and listened as he let out a dry, struggling laugh.

“You did. On countless occasions.”

He hissed when you accidentally bumped your hand against the piece of metal. You quietly apologized but didn’t stop, knowing you didn’t have much time before the enemy would catch up with you.

“Thinking that I’m entitled to everything I want isn’t the only bad habit I have. I also have a tendency to overexaggerate.” You joked with a smile. “I do find you insufferably infuriating, though.”

Another chuckle left his lips. “Likewise.” He said and dropped his head back against the wall.

You said nothing more, ripping another two pieces off of the shirt, tying them together and wrapping it around his waist like you had the first piece. You tightened this knot significantly more than the first one, though, right above the piece of metal, and just as quickly as he had relaxed, he jerked back forward with a yell.

“I need to stop the bleeding, you need to keep still.” You hurriedly scolded and sternly pushed him back down by his chest.

He muttered bitterly in return, but didn’t protest.

“I bet you’re enjoying this.” He seethed, and you raised an eyebrow, a small smile playing on your lips.

“Whenever I’m feeling down, I just think back to the multiple times I’ve had the pleasure of witnessing you being force-thrown across a room by Ren. Puts a smile on my face every time. But that doesn’t automatically mean I want you to die. So stop wallowing in your internalized self-hatred and put your hand over mine.” You told him, trying your hardest to keep a lighthearted attitude, more so for your own sake than his at this point as you were literally about to pass out.

But he did as told, contributing with the strength he had left when you got to your feet and started pulling him up and into one of the seats that were still intact.

He put a trembling hand over yours and in turn, you put your other one over his and pushed down. He hissed and you gave him a moment to adjust, and when you were sure he was pressing hard enough with his own hand, you slowly removed both of yours and fastened his seatbelt.

“Keep pressure and hold on tight. This is most likely going to be a rough ride.” You warned him, and he slowly looked up at you through a mess of ginger hair.

“It can’t be any worse than the ride here.” He retorted and you nodded, taking that as a “go ahead”.

You wasted no time in getting into the pilot’s seat after pulling the previous pilot out, as well as the thick tree branch on which his head had been impaled, and started up the controls. It took a few tries to get out of the hole the ship hade gotten stuck in when crashing, but soon enough you were up in the sky.

With a bit of dumb luck, you eventually reached your destination and got brought back in to the base by your team of fellow engineers, all ready to repair the wrecked ship.

Hux was immediately taken to the medical bay while you stayed behind to help with the ships, and from two ends of the base, the two of you silently and separately came to realize that maybe, just maybe, you didn’t hate each other as much as you thought, after all.

#hux x reader #hux imagine #hux #armitage hux #armitage hux x reader #armitage hux imagine #general hux #general hux imagine #general hux x reader #domnhall gleeson #star wars #star wars imagine #star wars x reader #kylo ren #knights of ren #the first order

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xxxavo · 4 years

Note

Sin getting upset bc he see’s Kouen flirting with his s/o (I mean they both already don’t like each other).So sins getting all alpha dog and is trying to get him to bck off

Requested by: anonymous

Warnings: A hint of verbal NSFW towards the end? (better known as...LIMEy) Not swear words but a few rude words? Idk

Suddenly getting back into Magi so might be a few imagines being thrown around here and there, depends on how long this lasts!! Feeling a NSFW scenario manifesting itself into my drafts after writing this, I won't lie, but no actual NSFW content today my little imuchakk's! Hope you enjoy!

Sinbad had always liked banquets, weather they be ones held in the kingdom of Sindria, or at his biggest rivals, the Kou empire. There was something exciting about the prospect of consuming alcohol in foreign lands after an important political meeting that made Sinbad feel on top of the world. It was rare for things in Sinbad’s life not to go his way, or to not end up leading towards something better then what he had lost. For this reason, King Sinbad was to an extent, a go-with-the-flow kind of man. Especially with loyal followers such as his generals and his beloved wife!

His beloved was of course very loyal, incredibly so...but, there were people who did not care for that loyalty of hers. This included a certain Kou empire red head who went by the name of Kouen.

“No need to look so sour, Sin.” Ja’far commented beside him, though he was enjoying the fact his King was abandoning his poor drinking habits to instead stay sober and focused, even if he was focusing on his wife and Kouen Ren flirting. “You told her to be pleasant and friendly towards Kouen to gain his favour. I don’t understand why you’re so jealous.” That was enough to make Sinbads eyes flicker from the generous laughter of his wife to the smug face of his right hand man.

“Me!? Jealous!?”

“Hmm.” Masrur agreed from the other side of Sinbad. The King’s neck practically snapped to the fanalis.

“Why would I, of all people, be jealous?”

“Because you’re wife is a smart, sophisticated lady who could do a lot better than a man who drinks sake and shamelessly prances around woman as if he was a young teen in his glory years.” Golden eyes met red ones in a baffled expression of offense.

“That’s a low blow, Ja’far.”

“Hmm.” Again, Masrur voiced his opinion rather humbly. Unlike the other two, Masrur had not taken his eyes away from the Queen, curious to see how her little game would play out; He loved how cunning she was.

The Queen, unlike Sinbad, was sensible. When he was busy hiding from Ja’far she was busy doing the work for him and cleaning up all his messes. Masrur liked how through thick and thin she stayed by Sinbad’s side whilst being the role model his country needed. She may as well have been a general. However, that didn’t mean she didn’t find herself sick of him sometimes.

Unfortunately old habits died hard. Sinbad was an infamous lady killer, flirting and charming any woman he deemed beautiful. No longer did he take it any further but Masrur could always see it in the Queen’s eyes whenever she got upset or jealous with his ministrations. As much as she tried to hide it, Masrur was a man who saw much, yet said very little.

The fanalis saw the way the cogs in her head turned the moment Sinbad had told her to “Gain Kouen’s favour in any way you can! I’m sure he’ll be much more linient with me if he enjoys the company of my other half” and the way she made sure her corset was on tighter and her breasts were pushed up higher only confirmed his supicions. Sinbad was about to get a very bitter taste of his own flirtatious medicine.

The Queen was, despite being middle aged, very beautiful. If she wasn’t married to King Sinbad, Masrur was certain many men would be throwing themselves at her feet. Kouen would possibly be one of those.

The next thing Masrur knew a grumpy Sinbad was pulling on his cheek, his gaze in the same direction as his. “What is it Masrur? What are they saying!? Surely you will stick by your King! Unlike this traitor—“

“Tsk.”

“Please Masrur. My wife could be in danger.” Sinbad dramatized. Masrur practically had to stop himself from commenting on how pathetic the King looked. “I need those fanalis ears of yours...”

“Fine.”

“Did you know, you’re my favourite?”

“I swear to Solomon Sinbad if you—“

Drowning out the advisor and the King, Masrur honed his attention on the Queen and Kouen who sat sharing a bottle of red wine.

“Oh no. No more for me please.” Just as Kouen was about to tip some more of the red liquor in her glass, the Queen politely bowed her head, fluttering her lashes. “My tolerance for alcohol isn’t the greatest thing in the world.”

“Oh?.” Kouen hummed, nodding in response before filling up his own. “I expected you to perhaps be a little more like you’re husband.”

“An old drunkard?”

“That’s not what I said.”

“But is it not what you meant?”

“I—“ Kouen seemed at a loss for words for a second, perhaps embarrassed, but saved himself rather quickly without a hint of emotion on his face. “What I meant was, a lover of a banquet. Sinbad has attended many, I assumed you would have been more on par with him when it came to drinking and party games.”

The Queen watched Kouen take a sip of his wine, her lips pulling up into a soft smirk. “Something tells me Kouen if I was anything like my husband you wouldn’t want to be sat here with me.” Kouen was slow to place down his drink, his sharp eyes meeting Sinbad’s wife’s.

“Would you rather me sit elsewhere?”

“That’s not what I said.”

“But is it not what you meant?” Now, it was his turn to smirk.

“I—“ With a soft laugh, the regal woman before Kouen grew flustered, picking up her glass and swirling the remaining wine contents around to allow her to look elsewhere. “You really are as they say Kouen. Quite an interesting man. I enjoy getting to know you.” Lifting up her head, the Queen rose an eyebrow, a smile now residing on her face. “Every word I say sinks in doesn’t it?”

“Your highness. If any man does not listen to you, does he really deserve to be in your presence? If my sisters were simply cast aside, I wouldn’t be so forgiving to the suitor who was to do that.” It was a lie, the Queen had heard of Kouen and his family sending off the young princess to he married to a King who wanted nothing more then a pretty face. Was there more to the story? Most likely. But was that the gist of it? Yes. However, to indulge both Kouen and continue to gain the nervous attention of her husband shuffling in his seat, the Queen sighed out gently.

“You’re close to your family...?” It was hard to hear the rest, Sinbad practically chewing off his own hand right beside Masrurs ear.

“What are they saying!?” Simply, Masrur shrugged. “Something about family.” It was no fun telling Sinbad everything. Groaning, Sinbad flopped back into his seat, picking up his wine with a pout.

“It doesn’t taste the same knowing at the end of the night she’s not going to be dragging me back to our room...”

“Who? Her highness?” The three men all turned abruptly to face Kogyoku, who smiled sheepishly. “I’m awfully sorry...” she stuttered out. “I didn’t mean to pry, I just came to say hello and over heard you talking."

Knowing that any ill intentions towards Kougyoku’s older brother would harm his reputation with the Kou empire, Sinbad put on his best charming smile, acting as though he wasn’t emotionally conflicted on the inside. “Ah Princess. What a pleasure to be seeing you again. Are you enjoying the banquet?” With a smile, the pinkette nodded her head.

“I am very much your highness. I hope you’re also enjoying yourself.” With that, her eyes flickered upwards to the Queen of Sindrian and the most influential man in the whole of the Kou empire. “It seems her highness is enjoying herself to. I’ve never seen Kouen so invested in somebody. It’s a real testimony to your wife.” Kougyoku was of course NOT JEALOUS. Not once had she imagined herself sat on Sinbad's lap as he whispered sweet nothings into her ear! Nether the less, she continued her façade, knowing that after all it was her duty.

”They’re so deep in conversation, I wonder what they’re talking about.” Her words aren’t helping the purple male.

“As do I...”

“Kouen seems so relaxed around her highness. They really do get along don’t they?” Was she trying to give him a heart attack?

With a delightful laugh Sinbad nodded before finally rising to his feet. "They do indeed. In fact I feel a little bit left out. Perhaps I should pau the two a visit. Excuse me Princess, I do hope of seeing you again soon." Lifting her hand to his lips, Sinbad placed a soft kiss to the back of her hand before walking towards his wife and that thing trying to take her away. The King of Sindria looked at peace with all around him as he strode over, all intentions of causing havoc and disrupting the calm atmosphere completely gone for his being. At least it looked that way. If it didn't, he wouldn't have been a good King.

The two at the table saw him coming before he arrived and where as Kouen greeted him with a cut nod, seemingly displeased he was interrupting his time with his wife, who simply sent him a passive smile.

"Ah Your highness." Not Sin, not Sinbad, not my King, not my love. Just your highness. "Me and Kouen here--" Yet they were on first name basis? "Were just discussing-- Hmmph!"

As done many times before by the womanizer, Sinbad encased the back of his wife's head, bringing her face towards his own and then slamming their lips together in a rather mighty display right in front of the red princes eyes. He made sure it lasted. And his Queen? Who was she to deny Sinbads advances? As usual she practically melted into his affectionate assault, fragile hands moving to clasp at Sinbad's robes in an attempt to lull him closer...but two could play at that game. Pulling back from his beloved, Sinbad made sure to smirk, staring into her eyes for a brief moment. It was his way of saying "I'll get you back for this".

The sexual tension was undeniable and Sinbad had hoped Kouen could sense her thighs rubbing together like he could, because that was the closest Kouen would get.

"Hm? Talking about what? I didn't quite catch that my Queen."

Meanwhile, back at Sinbad's table, Ja'far sighed in aggravation as he watched the scene Sinbad caused in absolute horror. "Honestly, this man really does test my patience! Can he not just let his wife butter up Kouen! If anything it benefits us!"

"Hmm."

"Just for one second, can he think about anything else other then his-"

"Dick?"

"I was going to say pride but that works too."

510 notes · View notes

disgruntledspacedad · 4 years

Text

The Rules of Engagement (5/5)

part of the The Better Love Series

pairing: Javier Peña x fem reader/ofc (Ears)

summary: (slow-burn, sexual tension, angst, a little bit of h/c in later chapters) He’s a DEA agent. You work for Centra Spike. Peña’s not your boss, exactly, but you’ve been fwb long enough that certain people are starting to think of you as An Item, and that just won’t do.

words: 5.7k

warnings: 18+ - drugs, violence, language, alcohol, smut.

a/n: many many notes at the end. unbeta’d as always.

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five

MASTERLIST

Javi clicks off the radio as soon as the car starts, and you spend the first half of the ride in silence. For a while, he seems to be focused intently on driving, but you know him well enough to see the wheels turning in his head. Sunglasses hide his eyes, but still, there’s something about that little frown that suggests that his thoughts are far from lunchtime traffic.

It doesn’t bother you - your mind really isn’t on the road, either.

“I can’t figure it out.” You’re startled to find that it’s your voice breaking the silence.

“Can’t figure out what?” Javi takes a deep drag from his cigarette. He’s still not looking at you.

“Who did this, and why.” You swallow past the emotion that wells in your throat, firmly redirecting your thoughts to facts and evidence. “It wasn’t an accident, Peña, I’m ruling that out now. Somebody planted a bomb in Emilio’s store.”

Javi purses his lips tightly.

“And call me crazy, but I can’t help but think that it has something to do with Escobar.” Your voice is rising now as you warm to the argument. “Like, this is his MO, right? Bombing civilian small business, terrorism, chaos…” you trail off, furrowing your brow as you rest your forehead against the cool window. “Just… why here? Why Bogotá?”

Why Emilio?

Javi’s face freezes. He’s quiet for a long time. You watch him warily from the corner of your eye. To the casual observer, he’s all calm stoicism, snuffing his cigarette and reaching both hands to finger the steering wheel. But you know better - you read the subtle stiffness in his shoulders, the carefully shuttered expression, the white knuckle grip that suggests that he’s far more stressed than he’s letting on.

Something wild throbs in your chest and you have a sudden, irrational suspicion that he might know more than he’s saying. The moment stretches, and just as you’re ready to panic, Javi huffs a frustrated sigh. “I don’t know,” he admits in a low voice, and the bubble of uncertainty shatters. “But I’m going to find out.”

There’s something cold in his tone, a controlled, a calculated malice that threatens vengeance, and you rest your forehead against the window, wondering at the profound sense of reassurance you draw from his words.

Out of nowhere, a truck swerves in front of you, and Javi leans hard on the horn, cursing and flipping off the driver out the window as you weave past him.

You can’t help a small smile at that - Javier Peña, taking out his worries on the unassuming drivers of Bogotá.

Again, silence stretches between you.

“I think it’s time you told me about your morning.” Javi’s voice is soft, but still, you know it’s not a request.

“There’s not much to tell,” you confess. Again, not entirely true, but you haven’t even begun to process it all, and the details are overwhelming to contemplate. “I volunteered to stay over at headquarters. They wouldn’t put me in the air two nights in a row, but still, I wanted to know what was happening.”

His lips twitch at this.

“It was quiet. I left around seven, I think. I’m not entirely sure. Figured somebody would call me with news. And then…” You pause, swallowing hard. “I was almost home. At the corner of 70.”

You remember waving to Emilio, the way his eyes had lit up when he’d spotted you, his toothy grin. He’d been so proud, introducing you to that guaro.You blink, bracing yourself against the yawning pit of grief that threatens to open in your chest. Not now. Please.

“Then the store exploded.”

You and Javi draw a deep breath at the same time. The ensuing silence is stifling.

“Then what?” he prompts you gently.

You glance up, noticing that he’s parked the car. Neither of you move.

“I stumbled back,” you continue haltingly. You just want this conversation to be over. “It’s all kind of a blur, from there. It was really weird, like… like being in a time warp, or something.”

He nods grimly, like he understands.

“I decided to go to your place…” you’re nervous, confessing this part to him. As tense as he is, as awkward as things have been, any reference of your previous liaisons feels like stirring hot shit with a stick. “I just, I didn’t know what else to do.”

“You didn’t wait for the police to arrive?”

Desperation and indignation rise in you. “Javi, I’d just witnessed my fucking apartment go up in flames, okay? Excuse me if I didn’t perform to your exacting standards!”

He presses his lips together in a firm line, and oh, fuck. You realize that you’ve just called him by his name again - something you’ve made a point not to do since that horrible morning in the shower.

Ugh.

You drop bonelessly against the passenger seat, all of the fight leaking from you. This fucking day… god, just, fuck this day.

“I’m sorry.” Javi’s voice is so whisper-quiet that it almost doesn’t register.

You take three deep breaths, in and out, in and out, in and out.

“It’s fine,” you say, once you’re grounded again. “But I’m - I’m just done talking, okay?”

“Yeah.” Javi opens his door with a deep sigh. “Okay.”

♠

Javi lets you in, and you go straight for the sofa, settling awkwardly with your hands in your lap.

God, now what? You’re right back where you started - no home, no job to do, and no answers. Exhaustion and helpless resignation swallow you whole, and you sit like that for a long moment, staring into the middle distance and fighting the urge to rest your head in your hands.

After a while - you’re not sure how long - you notice the absolute silence permeating the apartment. Javi hasn’t moved, hasn’t spoken. You’d totally forgotten he was there.

You glance up.

He’s draped against the front door with his arms folded defensively across his chest, frowning fiercely at nothing.

“Hey.” You aren’t aware that you’ve moved until you’re standing in front of him.

His eyes flutter shut and he exhales, long and slow, tilting his head back against the door so that he’s facing the ceiling, and okay, now you’re seriously freaked out.

“Javi?”

“I can’t do this anymore,” he whispers.

“Can’t do what?”

He grimaces like the sound of your voice is painful. “Please don’t make me.”

You take a half step closer, alarm bells screaming in your head. You have never, ever heard this man beg, not once in all the time you’ve spent together. “Don’t make you… Javi, what?”

His gaze flicks to yours, and you suck a sharp breath.

Javi looks absolutely wrecked. His eyes are wide and dark, brow furrowed deep, and he’s staring at you with so much longing in his expression that little sparks of electricity go zipping across your skin.

“God, Ears, baby, I was there,” he rasps. He takes one quick little step forward, as if to reach for you. “I went to your place as soon as I heard, as soon as the plane landed…”

You brain skitters to a stop.

Oh, Christ. He hadn’t told you that. You don’t even have time to wonder about it, though, because Javi is still speaking, words pouring out of him as if revisiting the memory has cracked him wide open.

“And it, it was a fucking crater, okay? And nobody had seen you, nobody had heard anything, and they had the fucking - the fucking body bags -” His voice cracks, and he presses his fists to his eyes, as if to hide his face while he gathers himself.

Horror floods you. You’re starting to put it all together now. You’d been so distracted by your own terrible day that you’d not once thought to ask about Javi’s. You imagine him at the bomb site, picking his way through ash and rubble, flashing his badge at firemen and emergency responders, firing off questions, watching them load up body bags…

Oh, fuck.

Javi shakes his head sharply, as if dispersing the memories, and when he looks up, his eyes are red-rimmed and wet. “Querida,” he breathes, pinning you with an expression of open desperation. “I thought I’d lost you.”

Oh.

It takes a lot to scare Javier Peña. You know this. He’s a fearless man. He has to be.

But this morning, Javi had been terrified. You recall his voice over the phone, tense and clipped, the blustered sigh of profound relief, the clattering footsteps as he’d raced up the steps, his eyes, not quick and efficient, but frantic as he’d taken you in, alive and healthy and wearing his clothes.

“I’m right here,” you whisper, unable to articulate just how profoundly you mean that. You’re still reeling from the implications of it all.

“I know,” Javi chokes. He blinks hard, almost like he’s baffled by it. “You’ve been right here the whole time.” He hitches a breath. “And goddammit, baby, I can’t sit here and listen to you say my name without wondering what the hell else I’m losing.”

Reality shifts and realigns in an instant. Fear and disbelief give way to fierce longing, and your voice comes out as a choked whisper. “Come here.”

Javi does, haltingly at first, as if wondering if you really mean it. You fall into his arms, and he pulls you close, reverently, as if you are the most precious thing in the world. He presses his forehead carefully to yours, catching your jawline with his palms and threading his fingers through your hair.

“God, baby,” he rasps. “When I saw you… When I heard your voice…”

“I’m okay,” you remind him, reaching up to rub the back of his neck. “I’m okay.”

He sighs deeply, and a bubble of tension you weren’t even aware of bursts at the sound. You melt into him, and he holds you tightly for a long, long time, swaying your bodies gently back and forth, your head tucked against his chest.

You tilt your face to him, pressing your lips to his skin, and he huffs brokenly, his body still wrapped around yours like he’s reluctant to create any space between you. He’s shaking as he takes your face in his hands, pausing just long enough to fix you with a wild-eyed, pleading glance.

“Okay?” he breathes.

“God, yes,” you gasp. “Yes.”

And just like that, Javi’s kissing you like a man without air, awkward and starving, catching the back of your neck with one hand, the other roaming beneath your shirt to stroke at your ribcage.

There’s nothing gentle about it. A month’s worth of desperation has been building in both of you, and now, Javi’s frantically mapping your body with his lips and tongue, peppering little licks and kisses and soft nips down your jaw and neck while you scramble awkwardly for the buttons of his shirt. You struggle to keep your fingers under control as one gigantic hand finds your ass and squeezes. You gasp, inadvertently popping his last button.

Damn, you liked that shirt.

Undeterred, you push it aside, finally free to explore his chest and back and belly for the first time in far too long. Javi’s skin is warm beneath your fingertips, his body smooth muscle and soft heat as he leans into you. His hands are snaking beneath your shirt now, one brushing the bare skin of your torso as it wanders up to grasp at your bra, the other gripping at the hollow of your hips. You arch into his touch, groaning low into his mouth, and he bucks in response, cock straining at his jeans, denim deliciously rough against your palm.

“What do you want, baby?” he gasps into the hollow of your throat. Those gorgeous hands have migrated back to your ass now, clutching with a greediness that leaves you panting.

“Just…” God, you can’t even think, your brain flickering in and out, overloaded with pleasure and pent up emotion and Javier Peña. “Just you, Javi. Now. Please.”

He whimpers, his erection digging rock-hard into your belly, and the sound nearly brings you to your knees - cool, collected, suave Javier Peña, keening for you.

Javi hikes you up so quickly that you yelp, hips pinning you as he drives you into the wall. You brace yourself for impact, but he’s already anticipated that - one hand cups the back of your head, cradling you protectively, the other reaching past your thighs to clench at your pussy.

You moan, rocking into him, bracing your elbows against the wall to grant him access. You shimmy your hips, and he hitches your skirt up with a fist, dragging your soaking panties to the side as he buries his fingers inside you.

“Oh,” you gasp.

Javi’s fingers pulse deep into your core, once, and then again, that come-hither curl of them driving you wild as he pumps through your juices. You scramble back, opening yourself as best you can with your limited mobility as he presses his knee beneath your leg to hold you in place.

God fucking damn, there’s something about being pinned to the wall by this man that leaves you trembling and leaking.

Groaning, Javi sinks his mouth onto yours, and you arch up to meet him, sucking sloppily on his lips, his stubbled jaw, whatever you can get to. You tug his hair hard, mostly for leverage, and he gasps, throwing his head back in a way that allows you access to his neck. You love Javi’s neck - it’s delicious, all fascinating gentle dips between tight tendons, and you relish the opportunity to explore each of its arcs and hollows with your tongue.

He shudders as you nip and suck and bite at him, grinding your body against his as you clench your legs around his waist.

You’re both panting at this point, skin slick with sweat. It’s hard to know where you end and Javi begins, but it’s so, so good, feral and desperate and heated, and somehow, he’s still managing to pulse his thumb at your clit. The motion sets a fucking fire in you, slow, deep waves of hot pressure building in your core.

“More, Javi,” you beg against his clavicle, shimmying your hips against his hand. Any other day, you’d be content to stay here, caught between him and the wall as he wrings your orgasm from you with the pads of his fingers. But there’s something else building in you, a desperation that has both nothing and everything to do with physical release, and you just need him closer. “I- I need -”

Javi growls, gently dropping you to the floor as he shucks out of his jeans. You help him along with trembling fingers, giggling incoherently as your heads brush clumsily in your haste. You take the opportunity to shrug out of your shirt and bra, and then Javi’s pinning you with a gaze that’s almost predatory, dark enough to send shivers of anticipation curling down your spine.

You back against the wall and raise a brow, daring him to come get you.

He does, hoisting you up easily - he really is stronger than he looks. One knee hikes beneath your thigh, his opposite hand clenched behind your ass, thumb digging deep into the hollow of your hip. You absently notice that he’s once again braced his opposite hand between your head and the wall, threading his fingers through your loosened braid, but you don’t have time to consider it, because he’s thrusting into you, quick, shallow pumps that leave you gasping for air.

It’s mind-blowingly amazing, and a wild, wanton part of you wonders why the hell you haven’t done this before - just kick off your clothes and go at it like animals in the hallway. You sink deeper onto him, angling your hips just-so, and oh fucking christ, he’s rubbing right against your clit, hard and fast and sloppy in the very best way.

You throw your head back, spasming around him, scrabbling at his shoulders for purchase. He’s still wearing his fucking shirt, and you cling to its open edges with enough force to rip. Javi hisses, rhythm faltering as he slips from you. For a moment, you pause like that, him holding you with shaking thighs, your lungs and skin burning, heaving breaths mingling hot on each other’s faces, but then he’s realigning himself, shifting his angle a little. You shimmy up the wall, desperate to accommodate.

The second round is even more brutal than the first, choppy and shallow. Your abs are burning; it’s a difficult position to maintain, but that familiar fullness is building achingly delicious in your core, so you hold out, gasping. Javi’s breathing raggedly, sweat dripping from his forehead as he presses it against yours, eyes wide and unfocused as he thrusts into you.

He’s trembling with exertion.

“Fuck!” He’s slipped again. You sink to the floor, reaching for his wrist. He looks at you, face twisted in a resentful snarl.

“Javi,” you gasp, kissing him before he can react. What you’re doing is hot as fuck, but it’s not working right now. You’re both too tired, too desperate and shaky, and you need release. “Take me to bed.”

“Hmm,” he moans into your mouth. It must be agreement, because pulls back - you shudder at the loss of contact - and then hoists you over his shoulder in a move that makes your head spin. You giggle a little, breathless and giddy and almost incoherent with need.

Javi carries you through the apartment like that, you clinging to him like a koala bear with your legs locked around his waist and your head draped over his shoulder. He drops you lopsided on his unmade bed. Automatically, you flop over onto your stomach and gather your knees to your chest, remembering how he loves to take you from behind.

“No,” his voice is strained. A hand, surprisingly gentle, tugs at your shoulder, and you go with it, twisting so that you’re on your back again, sideways in the bed. “I need…” Javi’s panting, dark eyes burning a hole in you. “I need to see you, baby.” His voice breaks, his expression vulnerable, almost apologetic.

A rush of affection overtakes you, and you reach for him, pulling him close for another deep kiss. Javi straddles you, palming himself in preparation, and you have the foresight to shove a pillow under your ass - if you’re going to be doing this face to face, then you want him as deep as possible.

When you glance up, he’s watching you open-mouthed, absently tugging at his leaking cock like he just can’t help it.

God, he’s beautiful.

He sucks a startled breath, looking at you in wide-eyed wonder, and oh fuck. You’d said that out loud.

“Javi,” you whine, yanking him closer. You don’t have time to feel awkward, goddammit. You just need him. For real. Inside you. Right now.

You both shudder as he sinks deep into you. He stays still for a moment, and you clench against him desperately, urging him to move, dammit, but he’s holding off.

“Baby,” he rasps, glancing down at you, red-faced. “I’m not - I’m not going to last.”

That confession alone makes something swell tightly in you, and you buck your hips in response. “It’s okay,” you rasp, trying hard be good, to hold still, to not overwhelm him. “I won’t, either.”

He rocks against you, a tiny pulse, just enough to fucking tease, but it must be an unconscious thing, because he’s still looking you in the eye like he’s afraid you’ll reject him, or condemn him.

“Javi, please,” you keen, patience thoroughly spent. You reach up, digging your fingers into his shoulder blades and tugging hard. “I don’t care. I just need you. All of you.”

That gets him moving.

Javi rocks against you, setting up an achingly slow, almost careful rhythm, his left hand still cradled around the back of your neck to brace your head as he draws himself to the hilt, then nearly all the way out again. It’s gentle and sweet, but dammit, you want more. You pull your knees to his elbows to encourage him deeper, digging your heels into his back. Javi gets the message, because he twitches and groans, curling around your body and bracing himself against your shoulders, abruptly driving into you with a force that punches the air from your lungs - hard, fast, and deliciously brutal.

It’s exactly what you need.

You curl up against his chest, abs burning as you glance past your breasts to the place where your bodies are connected. The edges of his open shirt skim the sensitive skin of your ribcage, framing the view and drowning you in more sensation. Heat is pooling in you, tension building and sparking and curling your toes. There’s something surreal and wonderful about watching yourselves work in tandem, his hips and yours, pulsing and perfect.

Javi shudders, and you drag your eyes back to his face, not daring to miss a moment. Fuck, he’s gorgeous, and that expression alone, that little purse-lipped grimace of pleasure, is enough to drive you to the edge. Controlled, careful, restrained Javier Peña coming undone for you, rattled for you, staring at you like it hurts to draw a fucking breath in your presence… goddamn, you twisted little shit, you’re really liking that.

His rhythm is faltering now, thighs clenching erratically, breath coming in ragged little pants. You know that he’s close.

You reach up to stroke his cheek. “Javi,” you whisper. His eyes find yours, glossy and wild. His mouth is open, his brow furrowed. “It’s okay, baby,” you tell him. He trembles in response, a full body shudder, his eyes flickering shut.

“It’s okay. Let go.”

His breath hitches, and he bucks wildly, collapsing against your chest with a low, broken groan. The hot heaviness of him pulsing into you releases a shockwave of pleasure down you spine. You gasp as your core clenches, spreading his heat, but it’s not quite enough, you’re not quite ready, and you grit your teeth at the loss of friction as he softens inside you.

You watch his face twitch, relief and ecstasy and something else, something fierce and sharp that you can’t possibly name.

You groan, reaching your fingers down to your core, battering against him. You tug at your clit, index finger tap-dancing in that perfect circular motion that sends you straight over the edge as Javi flops bonelessly beside you.

Desperate for contact, you sink into him, still working to salvage that orgasm, concentrating hard on the rapid rise and fall of his ribcage with each chugging breath, the heat of his body wrapped around you like a second skin. His eyes flutter open, and there’s a look of quiet desperation on his face.

“I’m sorry,” he babbles, reaching for you with wide eyes. “Babe, I -”

“Shh, shh, shh, shh,” you reassure him, batting his hand aside with your elbow before he can interfere. The waves are crescendoing now, almost painful in their intensity. You’re so fucking close, words and reason are beyond you. “S’okay, Jav, I’m close… I just need… need you to…. “

“What do you need, baby? Anything.”

“Just - just be here.”

Javi inhales sharply, then gathers you closer to him. “Yeah,” he murmurs, resting his face in the crook of your neck, peppering you with the softest of kisses. One hand rests firmly on your head, its thumb working little circles on your uninjured temple, the other trailing down your body to splay at the sensitive underside of your belly. “I’m here, baby,” he whispers raggedly into your ear. “I’m here.”

Oh god, oh god. The pressure fucking hurts, burning in your toes, clenching in your core, and just when you think that you’re useless today, that sex is absolute bullshit and you can’t possibly take anymore, that -

“You’re so… my god, baby, you’re fucking perfect.”

It’s not Javi’s tone, broken as is is. It’s the frankness of the confession, the rawness. Javier Peña is not a sweet talker, especially not in bed. He’s not pandering to you. It’s more like the words have been dragged from him at gunpoint, pulled from the very deepest recesses of his subconscious, and it’s that honesty, that awed, reverent authenticity, that drives you over the edge.

It all happens in an instant. The bubble of tension in your core bursts abruptly, and you come with a choked gasp, mind blinking in and out as you ride out wave after wave of sweet relief. Javi is with you the whole time, cradling you in his arms as you shatter.

It’s not the longest orgasm you’ve had, or even the most intense, but there’s something about him holding you, about sharing the same skin and air and listening to him murmur sweetly in your ear, that transcends any release you've ever experienced. You ride the waves of your orgasm, swearing to the heavens that you’re breaking apart, and somehow, you’re taking Javi with you like you never have before, splintering and reconverging in a way that’s intimate and vulnerable and precious beyond words.

You come back to reality, breathless and trembling, and the first thing you notice is Javi staring at you with something like reverence in his expression.

“Hey,” he breathes, running a gentle finger down your cheek.

“Mmm,” you curl into his chest, just breathing him in, all warm, sticky skin and stale cigarette and perfect man.

You stay that way for a long time.

“I missed you,” Javi whispers hoarsely, pressing soft lips against your ear.

“I know,” you choke, because you do. That rush of clarity that had effused you in the front hallway is only more potent now. You and Javi had been dancing around each other for months, each of you too stubborn and too afraid to admit to the other that your feelings ran so much deeper than you let on. It’s so obvious now, how stupid you’d both been, and how much you’d missed by being stupid.

You’re horrified to feel tears tracking down your cheeks. God, reality has caught up with you all at once, exhaustion and fear and horror and relief all snarled up with post-coital vulnerability, and you curl deeper into Javi, tucking your face down in an effort to hide.

He notices, though. He always notices. “Baby?” Javi tilts your face up, tracking over you with concerned, dark eyes. “What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”

Exposure turns your tears to choked sobs, and it’s all you can do to speak. “I’m fine,” you gasp, and it’s both the truth and a lie. You’ve never felt safer than you feel now, or more connected to another human than you are to Javier Peña in this moment.

And that’s the thing. There’s still so much left to say. So many emotions, so many worries, so much grief. It all wars for dominance in you, everything at once, and you’re not even sure what the fuck you’re crying about until all of the sudden, you’re choking on words.

“Emilio,” you gasp. “He - he -”

Javi draws a sharp breath of understanding, wrapping strong arms around you as you cry.

“He was… he was gone… and there was nothing I could do!”

“Oh, baby,” Javi murmurs into your ear, rubbing tiny circles into the bare skin of your back. “I know. I know. I’m so, so sorry.”

“And, and…” You’re sobbing so hard that your chest burns, and it’s all you can do to breathe, but the dam has burst, and it’s all coming out now, whether you want it to or not. “Oh, god, Javi, I missed you, too.”

He chuckles a little at that, peppering your forehead with gentle kisses and thumbing the tears from your cheeks.

“Steve was right,” he confesses, tucking your head under his chin. “We’re both idiots.”

This startles a wet giggle from you. You imagine Murphy confronting Javi like he’d confronted you, red-faced and indignant and insisting that you both deserve one another. “Yeah,” you sniffle through your tears. “He was.”

“He’ll be insufferable about it, too.” Javi’s holding your hand now, the pad of his thumb rubbing back and forth, back and forth over your knuckles. You sigh breathily into his chest, crying until your sobs turn to shudders, and then finally, until you’re wrung raw and thoroughly exhausted.

Javi holds you the whole time.

You exhale raggedly, noticing for the first time just how slimy you are. “Ugh, gross,” you mutter, covering your face with your hand as you draw away from Javi, horrified.

Jesus Christ, if you’d just slung snot all over Javier Peña’s bare chest… god, you think you won’t survive the humiliation.

But Javi doesn’t seem bothered. He sits up, glancing around his bedroom for a tissue. Finding nothing, he shrugs out of his shirt, offering it to you silently.

You stare at it, then him.

“What?” he asks, incredulous. He’s still holding out the shirt, eyebrow cocked as if to question why you won’t just take it.

“Nothing,” you say. And that’s a lie. There’s something so uniquely Javi about the gesture, wanting you to wipe your nose with the shirt off his back. But that’s just him - genuine, resourceful, efficient. It’s cute and perfect and ridiculous, and it makes your chest swell and ache.

But you can’t quite put all of that into words right now, and you know he wouldn’t understand even if you tried, so you take the shirt from him with a grateful smile and blow your nose in it like a goddamn heathen.

Javi wads it in a tight ball when you’re finished, chunking it unceremoniously on the floor.

You roll your eyes, and he smirks at you, squeezing your hand as he climbs out of bed. After his cigarettes, you think. “Pretty sure you dropped them on the kitchen floor,” you call after him.

“Yup,” he verifies from the hallway.

You take the opportunity to duck into the bathroom and clean up, and by the time you’re done, Javi’s waiting for you, propped up against the headboard with his eyes shut, smoke curling from his mouth. He pats the bed beside him, not looking up, and you snuggle under his arm, sighing contentedly.

This is new, the cuddling, sharing his bed, burrowing against his side as he smokes, and you savor every detail. His skin is still slick with cooling sweat, and you can hear his heartbeat beneath his ribs where your head rests, slow and steady. Neither of you need to speak, each just drawing comfort from the presence of the other.

Afterglow, you decide, is a very good word for it.

“Javi?” you ask after a long, long time.

“Yeah?” he whispers. You wonder if he thought you were asleep.

“What is this?” You wave your hand, indicating the tiny space between his chest and yours. You know what it looks like, and you know what it is for you, but you can’t stand the thought of leaving anything uncertain between you, not after all of this.

Javi takes a deep drag of his cigarette. He holds that breath for a long time, but the silence doesn’t scare you, not anymore. That’s just Javi’s thinking face, the one you know so well.

After a while, Javi turns to face you fully. “This is me,” he starts slowly, reaching for your hands and lifting them to his chest, “deciding that I’m not going to miss any more opportunities.”

Your breath catches. That sounds - well, coming from Javier Peña, it sounds an awful lot like a vow.

“I’m all in, Ears.” Javi kisses each of your hands in turn. “If that’s okay with you.” He glances up almost hesitantly, the question burning in his eyes.

There’s something about the gravitas of the delivery that hints that his words are more than they seem. Javi’s gaze is pinned to yours, dark and serious, and a shiver runs down your spine. You might be lacking some context, but Javi’s resolve is impossible to miss.

You consider it for only half a second. You’ve known for a long time now that there’s a lot more at stake in Colombia than just your career. Hell, you’d known that from the moment you let Javi walk away from your apartment for the first time. And he’s made his position pretty clear, too. You bite back a loopy grin as you remember him blowing past Martinez at headquarters.

Yeah, there’s no salvaging this secret.

"All in," you say, gripping his hands tightly and wishing you could be half as eloquent and intense and awesome as he is. “I like the way that sounds.”

It’s the honest truth.

Javi breaks out into a soft smile that shows off that single dimple, leaning down and pressing his lips to your forehead. “Looks like we’re on the same page, then.”

“Yeah,” you try to answer, just as you are interrupted by a huge yawn.

Javi snorts. “Go to sleep, Ears,” he says fondly, pointedly throwing back the bed covers. You shoot him a petulant frown, and he rolls his eyes, undeterred. “Seriously, baby. This is just getting stupid now.”

“Whole day is stupid,” you mutter darkly as you climb under the blankets - not because he told you to, but because you want to.

“Oh really?” Javi teases. “The whole day?”

“Well,” you pretend to contemplate. “Guess the sex was alright.” You grin wolfishly at him from beneath the covers.

His response does not disappoint. “Alright?” He presses a hand to his chest, wounded. “Christ, baby, kick a man while he’s down.” He side-eyes you, frowning. “Guess I really do need to up my game, huh?”

“Your words, Jav,” you mumble. The full force of your exhaustion has hit you with a vengeance, and talking is hard.

“I will make it up to you baby,” he growls in your ear, suddenly serious. “You know I will.”

“Mmhmm,” you sigh. Any other time, that voice would have gone straight to your core, but now, not so much. “I do.”

“Good.” He drops a kiss on your nose, then slips out of the bed. The loss of his body heat is enough to draw you out of your stupor, just for a moment.

“Stay?” you call pathetically, just as the lamp flicks off.

Oh.

Javi settles back in beside you, wrapping his arms around your chest and nuzzling into the back of your neck with his nose. “Yeah, babe,” he whispers into your ear as you finally, finally drift off. “Not going anywhere.”

♠

Author notes/ confessions:

Whew, and that’s a wrap. Big, big notes here guys. I am incapable of being brief, apparently.

First, I know a lot of you are chomping at the bits to know who the fuck bombed Ears’ apartment. I tried to place a few little clues here and there, but ROE takes place sometime between 2.06 and 2.07. To summarize, Los Pepes, the vigilante group targeting Escobar, is funded by the Cali cartel. In retaliation, Escobar starts bombing Cali cartel owned business - their drug stores in particular. This really heated up in Bogotá around December 1992, which is when ROE ends.

Now, here’s the fun thing - Javi is absolutely already working with Los Pepes at this point - a relationship he initiated during the month that he and Ears were on the outs. Ears’ intuition in the car is correct - Javi does know, or suspect, more than he’s saying. This is a major plot point for a story that I have in the pipeline, but working that in here - god, guys, that’s too much, and ROE needed to end like 10k words ago, honestly.

That being said, if anybody has interest in being a beta, or just letting me scream ideas at them, hit me up. This little “one shot” has turned into a full blown universe in my brain, and these ideas are dying to get out.

The sex. Yeah, I know the sex isn’t great, but I wanted it that way. It was a strange choice on my part, both for Javi’s character and as a first foray into writing smut, but it just seemed appropriate. Sex is rarely ever as mind-blowing as depicted in fic, and besides, these two have had lots and lots of perfect sex. They’re a pretty equal match in that department, but this time is different. I wanted to put the emotions on display, rather than the physicality. It just makes sense that this time would be rushed, desperate, and messy. They are both emotionally and physically exhausted. Also, I really, really wanted to come full circle from the shower scene, where Ears never gets her completion, and also the scene on the sofa when Ears comforts Javi after a terrible day by saying, “I’m here.” There’s some sort of cathartic and earned about Ears bringing herself to completion while Javi just holds her. That being said, I know I owe Javi, and you guys, some smutty one-shots. I plan to deliver, I promise.

You’ll notice that I mention ears choking, coughing, sputtering, breathing, wheezing, feeling a tightness in the chest, aching… she’s got a small pulmonary contusion from being in such close proximity the blast zone. It’s a common injury in bombing survivors, and hers isn’t massive or life threatening, just inconvenient. Pulmonary contusion symptoms tend to develop hours or days after the injury, so she’ll steadily get worse, and when she does, the whole story of her experience with the explosion WILL come out. She’s still got a lot of trauma to process, both physically and emotionally, but Javi is gonna be there every step of the way (after he flips shit first, that is). I’ll let you guys imagine this one, though, because I have already dragged ROE out far longer than I really should have, and it’s mostly medical bs, anyway.

Last of all, if you’re still here, thank you. From the bottom of my heart. I haven’t written in years, and this story pushed me far outside of my comfort zone. Your support, comments, likes, reblogs, reaction gifs - they all mean the world to me.

@tiffdawg, you are directly responsible for this dumpster fire. I hope you’re proud. :)

Much, much love, and a happy new year to each of you.

~ Jay

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maximumjinx · 3 years

Text

Steven Universe Gravity Falls AU

~Yknow what they say, if you run out of content, ya gotta make it yourself. This is a ? shot (I might continue or not who knows not me) please don’t ask for more I have 18 unfinished fanfics on this site.~

California was nice, Steven had to admit. The people were nice, the food was fantastic, and the weather was splendid. It reminded him a lot of Beach City. Though there were just so many people, and traveling north, Steven was beginning to long for something small and simple again.

Oregon was the perfect place for that, right?

“Ronaldo wants pictures of Bigfoot, and if anyone can find him, its you Steven.” Petey’s voice was faint on Steven’s phone speaker, tossed into the passenger seat as Steven blindly picked a highway exit.

“Sure Petey, but couldn’t Ronaldo just go to a circus?”

“Not big feet Steven,” Petey emphasized, “Bigfoot.”

“Saying it twice isn’t helping buddy.” Steven was half paying attention. He was focusing on the winding roads and the looming trees surrounding him. Deep, in the pit of Steven’s stomach, he felt something start to tug him toward one direction farther away from the highway. He wasn’t quite sure if it was a good or bad feeling yet.

“Forget it, I’m going to take a blurry photo of that mean Gem in the woods and say its Bigfoot.”

“Just don’t let Jasper catch you, she’s no joke when she’s angry.”

“I saw her ripping grass out of the ground I think I’ll be fine. Later dude.”

Steven heard a small click and smiled to himself. He’s happy to see how far the people of Beach City have come and how they’ve taken to the gems. He remembers when the Crystal Gems were once the outcasts of town that locals warned you to stay away from.

He looked up to see a welcome sign.

“Gravity falls. Well, that’s a funny name.”

—

Steven wanted small and simple but he feels he may have overshot it.

This small town had exactly three attractions. A town museum that mentioned marrying woodpeckers (Steven couldn’t figure out if that was a normal human thing, like taxes and velcro), a small diner, and as one local described it ‘some tourist trap’ deep in the woods. It was a sticky summer day and the former two attractions didn’t have airconditioning. Steven gambled on the last stop in hopes of stretching his legs and maybe finding a source to the strange feeling in his gut. It had become much stronger since he entered this small town. Alluring, but nothing related to Gems as far as Steven could tell.

He parked in the nearly empty lot and stepped out. Jacket wrapped loosely around his hips, Steven made his way inside.

A girl that looked about 13 was petting a pig on the front porch. She was incredibly reflective, and depsite the heat wore a knitted bedazzled sweater that made her glow like a disco ball in the sun.

She looked Steven up and down as he approached, a wide smile taking up her face and Steven saw bright braces with colored bands.

“Hi!” She launched upwards, startling the pig away, “I’m Mabel, but you can call me anytime.” The girl winked and stuck out her hand, palm facing the floor.

Steven blinked.

“Mabel, stop scaring away the customers!” A gruff voice yelled through the screen door, and soon an older man stepped out in a suit, wearing a fez and eyepatch.

Immediately the old man squinted at Steven, sizing him up.

Stanley Pines knew this teen wasn’t local, but he wasn’t sure if he had any money. For all he knew he was another boy trying to hit on his giftshop cashier, Wendy.

Oh well, a customer is a customer.

“Come in, come in, and see our mystical and magical wonders!”

“Magical?” This could be it, Steven could figure out why this town has felt off. Maybe it was gem related after all.

Quickly this older man who had introduced himself as Mr. Mystery gave Steven a tour of what looked like failed taxidermy projects. Now Steven may have a lived a sheltered childhood, but he felt pretty confident there was no such thing as a Sashcrotch. And so far, nothing had felt magical or mysterious.

“That concludes our tour! Here is our mistifying giftshop and it’s purchasable wonders!”

“Right...” Well, at the very least he was able to spend some time in airconditioning.

There was a girl behind the desk in plaid that looked about Steven’s age, and just a half inch shorter than him. She looked bored, flipping through a magazine as a young boy that looked a lot like Mabel made googly eyes as he swept by the door.

Steven guessed there was no harm in asking around.

“Hi, I’m Steven.” He smiled easily, walking up to the register.

“No refunds, even if an exhibit bit you.” She sighed, peeking up before turning back to her magazine.

“Oh no, nothing bit me, I just wanted to know something.”

She looked up to get a better look at Steven and gave a small smirk.

“Sure, but only because I like your shirt. Mr. Universe merch, now that’s a deep cut.”

Unbeknownst to Steven, Dipper Pines would had been watching the exchange felt a twinge of uneasiness as this out of towner talked with Wendy.

“Have you ever seen anything strange or weird actually happen in this town?”

Wendy’s smile dropped.

“Why do you ask?” Her eyes flickered to Dipper, just for a moment, and that was all he needed to rush over.

“Excuse me sir, please buy something or exit the store.” Dipper spoke in the deepest voice he could muster.

Steven looked over with a questioning expression.

“Oh sure uh-“ He blindly reached for the wad of bills that his dad had given to him before he left. Steven pulled out a hundred dollar bill and put it on the counter. Wendy looked up baffled as Steven stuffed the other cash back in his wallet.

“Boy was I wrong about you kid!” Mr. Mystery, seemingly materializing out of nowhere, now bounded over. He had loosened his tie and lost the eyepatch which turned out he never needed.

“Whaddya wanna know? I’ll tell you everything. There’s gnomes in the woods you know-“

“Grunkle Stan!” Dipper protested loudly, dragging his Stan away and harshly whispering at him.

“Did you steal that money?” Wendy asked as Steven watched the pair whisper fight in the corner. He turned back to the girl and gave a sheepish smile.

“Uh no, my dad gave it to me before this roadtrip. He’s actually Mr. Universe.”

Wendy lit up.

“No freaking way! Your dad is Mr. Universe? I only got into him since he managed Sadie Killer and the Suspects and they always perform covers of his songs on tour, I can’t believe he’s your dad!” She rambled, stars in her eyes. Steven beamed, he loved when people praised his dad’s music. Greg really deserved it.

Steven learned Wendy’s name and they swapped stories back and forth, only interrupted as the girl from outside slowly rose from the behind the counter beaming.

“A cute musician that loves weird stuff, take me now.” She swooned. Steven blushed profusely, not used to the attention.

“Sorry, my girlfriend Connie probably wouldn’t like that very much.” He said gently. Mabel looked him up and down and pouted.

“I can wait, but not forever.” She warned, and winked, bounding to break apart her grunkle and Dipper, who are now whisper screaming with arms flailing.

“I wasn’t going to mention that Dorito shaped jerk! Just the normal stuff!”

“It’s dangerous! He could be a spy, or government, or another stack of gnomes!”

Steven raised an eyebrow and looked at Wendy. She chuckled and shrugged. Steven carefully approached them.

“He can hear everything you’re saying anyways so might as well tell him!” Mabel interrupted, nodding towards Steven as he came up.

“If it makes you feel any better, I’m definitely not government.” Steven technically didn’t exist at all. He never had a social security card and didn’t have a birth certificate.

Dipper only glared. Rich strangers with an interest in the paranormal didn’t come through gravity falls without some kind of agenda.

Steven hated the conflict he was starting. No information was worth this family fighting.

“Okay,” he surrendered, hands up, “I’ll just go. I’ll stick around town until tomorrow if you change your minds”

“Wait Steven-”

“Let him go Wendy,” Dipper glared as the boy in pink walked out, “We can’t trust him.”

“But I was going to ask for Sadie tickets...” Wendy groaned, defeated.

“There’s something weird about him.”

“Great!” Mabel beamed, “He’ll fit right in.”

~.~

Steven wasn’t crazy about sleeping in his car, but was seriously considering it after seeing the state of his motel room. It looked like it hadn’t been used in decades, a thin line of dust covering every surface. He was also pretty sure they didn’t even have free ice.

“Wish Pearl were here..” He mumbled, exhausted. He curled up on top of the covers, fully clothed, and let sleep take him.

Being Steven Universe however, meant rest was sure to allude the half alien.

Steven found himself in a dark space, fog all around him. Before a word could come out of his mouth he heard a fast, repetitive muttering.

“Stranger...Wendy looked pretty today..Can’t trust...Tell no one...Ford isn’t here..”

“What, the-” Steven quietly walked toward the source of dialogue, and saw the faded silhouette of the boy from the Mystery Shack. His back was turned to him, but Steven recognized the blue vest and mosquito bitten legs.

“I thought I was over the dream hopping.” Steven spoke a tad too loudly, starting the young boy - Dipper.

“What-” Dipper’s eyes grew wide in panic, and the boy fell back harshly.

“No, no, you can’t be in my head!”

“Wait, I’m not-” Steven tried to reassure him, stepping carefully towards the boy but Dipper let out a screech of terror, sweat gathering around his temples.

“Bill sent you didn’t he?! He’s not really gone- he’s going to hurt Mable again-” Dipper began to hyperventilate.

“Dipper please,” Steven took a step back, arms in the air in surrender.

“I-”

“I’m not going to hurt you I swear on the gems.” He placed a hand over his heart. “This is a total invasion of privacy but it’s something that happens when someone’s emotions are out of control-”

“How are you here?” Dipper demanded, scrambling to his feet. “Tell me what you are and what you want.”

“I’m just passing through!” Steven insisted, then lowered his tone to calm the younger boy. “I’m kinda of magnet for weird stuff. I just wanted to help in case anything was going on.”

“We deal with things just fine around here.” Dipper spat, then watched as Steven deflated. He seemed tired, like he hasn't slept well in a while.

“So what are you anyways? How can you be here?”

Steven winced, and laughed nervously. “It’s kind of a long story..”

Dipper raised and eyebrow and swept his arm around the void dramatically.

“You have until dawn.”

“I thought that was a conspiracy theory, it wasn’t even covered by major news outlets.” Dipper look exhausted, cross legged on the unseen floor as he ran his hands through his hair.

“I think Garnet is pretty persuasive when it comes to government and reporters. They all kinda fall in love with her.”

“She’s the one that’s really two aliens?”

Steven shook his head with a small smile. “It’s hard to explain but yes, I guess that comes close.”

“That’s actually insane. I’m insane, aren’t I?” Dipper stood up, leaving Steven on sitting next to an empty space. “It’s been too quiet around here and now I’m so desperate for weird, that I’m making it all up in my head.”

“I get that feeling.” Steven smiled without humor, “but no, this is real. I’ll prove it when you wake up.” Steven felt a shift, the fog in the void getting denser.

“Sooner than I thought, you’re an early riser huh?”

Dipper looked back at Steven, panicked. “You’ll come to the Shack again right? In just a bit?”

Steven smiled. “Promise.”

Dipper woke up to his sister braiding his hair. Mabel still had her pjs on, and a make up kit next to the bed. Dipper frowned, tasting strawberry shortcake.

“Stop testing party looks on me, Mabel.”

“Stop having my face structure and maybe I will.” She grinned, covered in blue glitter.

Dipper quickly washed up and got dressed for the day, feeling like he was anxiously waiting for something but not quite remembering what.

He felt like he had a strange dream last night...

He quickly remembered, choking on cereal as Steven walked into the shack right as it opened. Hair slightly frizzy from the heat and eyes strangely tired. Maybe dream hopping took energy that he anticipated.

“Steven!”

“Meal ticket!”

“Grunkle Stan.” Mabel chastised as Dipper rushed over to the older boy.

“Good morning everyone.”

Dipper stopped short, slightly hoping that everything he experienced wasn’t just his imagination. That everything exciting and weird and interesting wasn’t always trying to kill him, ruin his life, or steal his candy.

Steven looked tired, like he had been doing this much longer than Dipper, but he had still come out with enough energy to smile.

“Not insane?” Dipper asked hopefully, quietly. Steven snapped his attention from his Grunkle and Mable bickering down to the Dipper. He gave a reassuring smile, eyes quite serious.

“Not insane.”

#I feel like I made up a strange tension but please don't ship them THEYRE FOUND FAMILY #Steven universe #gravity falls #universe falls #???#what's the tag?#dipper pines #Mabel pines #grunkle stan #stan pines #bill cipher #this is something or maybe nothing idk people need to give me plot ideas #probably no plot just one shot series

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