#and then he'll laugh and you can just hear the joy in his voice | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

rueclfer · 2 months ago

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everything is embarrassing // izuku midoriya

when he doesn't know how to take control of his life

a/n: 6k+ words lmao i feel crazzzzzy ok bye

19-year-old izuku doesn't have the privilege of hopping around college parties on the weekends or enjoy the “college experience” like his friends do.

he can barely catch a break to breathe.

monday through friday he's in classes from 8:00am to 4:00pm, and for more than half of the week from 6:00pm to 12:00am, he's working at the campus library- simultaneously shelving returns, organizing files, and scrambling to finish his homework. on the weekends, he'll be at his part time job at the local cafe just down the street from his dorm building.

it hasn't been an easy semester for izuku. he's a year behind his friends and he wants nothing more than to be able to walk across that stage with them by the end of their fourth year, but nothing comes easy when you’ve been out of school for a year, no money, have a scholarship on the line, and a single mother at home to make proud.

he's watching the time go by. his eyes darting back and forth between the ticking needle on the analog clock and you sitting at your usual table with your headphones on, attention glued to your textbook, and the tapping of your pencil growing louder by the second.

occasionally, he'd let himself clock out and lock up about 5-10 minutes early if there was no one lingering around on his floor, and all of the day's work had been completed. no one stays as late in the library as you do. it annoys him.

5-10 minutes is crucial to izuku.

he could get a head-start on his commute back to his dorm. if he walks quickly enough, he'd be back before 12:15am, be ready for bed by 12:35am, and he'd be able to get at least 6 hours of sleep.

if he's lucky.

but you. you were always there until the very last minute- sometimes even past closing.

it's 12:05am. how could anyone be so careless to not keep an eye on the time? can’t you see that it’s only you two left on this floor? did you not hear the 10 minute closing warning on the intercom?

if he wasn't running on a couple hour of sleep, a poor excuse for dinner, and 6 hours worth of brain numbing work, he wouldn't have the nerves to approach you so casually. he'd be replaying what he wanted to say in his head, stumbling over his words, and hope you wouldn't take offense to it.

"the library's closed." he bluntly says, still maintaining a few feet of distance.

you don't hear him or notice his presence at all. you're lost in that textbook and your mind is fumbling through these terms and definitions staring back at you.

izuku blinks once. then twice.

"hey." he starts again, taking a step closer and setting a hand down on the table right above your textbook.

you look up and catch the library worker’s tired eyes. your gaze immediately flickers to the analog clock hung on the wall past his shoulder.

12:12am

“oh shit!” you exclaim, ripping off your headphones. “i’m sorry. i’m so sorry, i lost track of time.”

you slam your textbook shut, rubbing your eyes against the back of your hand. how long had you been at it like this? studying the hours away in your own corner of the library?

“yeah.” izuku breathily chuckles, a sense of relief washing over him as he watches you haphazardly shove your books and papers in your bag. “sorry, i hate to interrupt a good study session, but i’m kinda tired, and if i stay here for another minute, the shelves might start talking to me.”

“god, don’t be sorry. i get it.” you laugh, slinging your bag over your shoulder. “i’m here, like, everyday. i’m sure everyone who works here is sick of me by now.”.

“yeah, me too.” he sheepishly rubs the back of his neck as you two make your way towards the exit. “here everyday, that is.” he quips, nervously running a hand through his tousled hair.

“look at us, so scholarly.” your voice dripping in sarcasm. you turn your head over your shoulder to meet his eye. “paying so much money for this university to drain us of all joy in life.”

“well, i’m on a scholarship.” izuku mutters. “so i guess i still have some joy left?

“yeah? well that’s actually even worse.”

“is it?” he cocks an eyebrow.

“you have much more to lose.”

the next time you two see each other, he’s knelt over an open filing cabinet, digging through dividers for some sort of paperwork.

since that night you’ve met, university life has felt a bit less lonely- something about taking a 20 minute walk to your dorm buildings, which happens to be right next to each other, complaining about how terrible of time you’re having adjusting to university life really brings people together.

“hey.” you cough.

izuku looks up to see you sporting a coffee cup in each hand.

“oh. it’s you. hey.”

you hold one out to him, waiting for him to take it, but all he does is give you a blank stare as his eyes flicker between your own and the cup outreached towards him.

“take it.” you chuckle. “i brought it for you. you looked like shit last time i saw you, so...”

the corners of his mouth quirks up into a smile, gingerly accepting the hot cup of coffee.

“...so this is your apology for staying past closing the other night?” he teases.

“oh definitely not.” you scoff. “i’ll be doing it again tonight too, don’t you worry.”

he nods his head, taking a deep swig of the bittersweet coffee. “see you at midnight, then.”

“see you at midnight.” you confirm, sending him a smile as you pull your headphones over your ear and head towards the back of the library where your designated table was waiting for you.

at 21-years-old, izuku goes to his first house party. it takes you about a week to convince him to give you one of his saturday nights that he’d usually reserve for studying or catching up on sleep.

“please.” you beg once more. “what are you going to say to your future students? how are you going to say you had the college experience without going to a single party?”

“with a degree?” he chuckles, slinging a rag over his shoulder. “you’re also distracting me. i’m on the clock, and my boss can come back anytime, you know.”

“oh, please.” you roll your eyes. “if toshinori was here, he’d be telling you to put your big boy pants on and get drunk with his favorite customer tonight. and if you agreed the first time i asked, i wouldn’t have to follow you to your second place of employment.”

“i’m sorry, i can’t. maybe next time?”

“please, izuku, just one party. i’ll help you get ready after your shift. we’ll leave anytime you want, but i can guarantee you’ll have so much fun. i promise i’ll never ask you again if you really do end up hating it.”

he can imagine it now- if someone asked him about his college experience, he wouldn’t mention the parties, the professors, or the time spent away from home. he’d talk about you.

izuku has a hard time balancing his life between keeping up with the workload and trying to not let his days blend into a muddy gray, but you had perfectly fit somewhere in between all of the chaos like a fresh breath of air.

izuku was tired, and you were a shot of espresso. how can he say no to you?

“fine.” he sighs in defeat, sliding a cup of coffee across the counter towards you. “but i can’t be out that late, okay? i have to be back here in the morning.”

“what the fuck happened?” you slam the door shut behind you, muffling out chatter of the crowd and heavy bass shaking through the walls.

you twist a wad of toilet paper into a cone before plugging the stream of blood gushing from his nose.

“sorry, sorry, sorry!” he repeats, holding the toilet paper in place with a bewildered look in his eyes.

“i don’t know what happened,” he starts in a nasally tone “maybe it’s all the smoke in the air or something. i heard that second hand smoke can be really drying for your nasal passages, especially if there’s not a lot of ventilation like in this apartment, i also haven’t been drinking a lot of water today and-”

“aht!” you interrupt, nudging him over with your elbow to rinse your hands off from the bloody residue. “my theory is that your body is shutting down on itself from the lack of proper sleep and nutrition. thoughts?”

izuku pouts. “stop it. i had a protein shake before we came, remember?”

“of course, how could i forget about the most rancid concoction you managed to blend together?” you mutter, wetting a wad of toilet paper and dabbing away the dried blood that had fallen onto his chin and t-shirt.

he cocks an eyebrow at you, holding up the red solo cup containing a questionable blue liquid that you shoved in his hands to hold when his nose started dripping blood.

“wow, since when were you a chem major? since you know so much about ‘rancid concoctions,’ huh?” he deadpans.

“izuku midoriya, are you getting sassy with me?” you scoff, grabbing the cup back from his hands.

“maybe i am.” he presses his lips together to suppress a smirk. “or maybe i’m just making an observation.”

izuku had finally started learning how to bite back. somewhere within the last year, the skittish library worker who you enjoyed pestering had grown the confidence to return your relentless teasing.

you weren’t sure how to take it- how giddy it made you feel and how much more of it you wanted to draw out of him.

to him, it was all a front. he perfected the line delivery with ease, but at the cost of his chest tightening and stomach turning over the sight of your amused smile and lit up eyes. this made him anxious.

you have much more to lose

everytime he sees you, he’s reminded of your very first conversation together when you were first years. he’s acutely aware of how much he has to lose, but if there’s one thing izuku could not bear to risk losing during the worst few years of his life, it was you.

“uh, why are you looking at me like that?” he nervously chuckles, his ears growing hot from trailing your eyes as they glaze over his face.

“i love you.” you smile, the alcohol finally making its way to your head. “a lot.”

izuku’s breathing stops for a moment. his eyes widen, and the nervous giggles continue pouring out as his facade from minutes earlier crumbles completely.

“why are you laughing?” you chuckle, taking a sip from your cup, choking back a grimace.

“i…i don’t know.” he bites his bottom lip, suddenly aware of his nervous habit. “you’re just being a silly drunk right now."

“what? because i said i love you?” you cock your head with a lazy smile “the L-word got your panties in a twist?”

“don’t know what you mean.” he turns his attention back to the mirror, subtly swiping his sweaty palms on his thighs before unplugging the tissue from his nose.

for the first time in his life, he’s simultaneously grateful and regretful for alcohol. grateful for the red sheen over his face to mask his blush. regretful for the carelessness it caused you with your words.

he doesn’t have the time or energy to entertain it. that is the one thing he’s certain of. he wouldn’t be good for you- wouldn’t give you the time and attention you deserved. he loves you too. he loves you enough to not say it back.

“it stopped bleeding. i think i’ll have to leave soon, so let’s get back out there, yeah? i’ll make you a better drink, too.”

he shoots you a forced grin before grabbing you by the shoulders and ushering you two back to the party where you reunite with your roommates and mutual friends. you leave your drink in the bathroom.

on the day izuku turns 22-years-old, he finds out that he’s on track to graduate with you and his friends. after stepping out for a quick phone call with his academic advisor, he drunkenly cries into your shoulder mid-birthday party (that his boss at the cafe forced him to take the time off to have).

all of the hard work and courses he packed on during his first two years at university finally paid off. though, that doesn't mean he’s gotten any easier on himself.

he quits his job at the library and starts student teaching part time at the local middle school for college credit.

you barely see him now-a-days. more often than not, your texts go unanswered.

izuku is a busy guy.

you miss him. you didn't realize how lonely it felt to walk back to your dorm from the library at midnight by yourself- you haven't felt this way for a while, not since you met izuku.

you wished he made it easier for you. your feelings for him never subsides, but instead grows into a longing ache. it’ll be like this until graduation. the occasional text message, running into each other in the halls with quick hello and goodbye, coming into his weekend job just to see him for a few reassuring moments- you know you both needed it.

he talks about you to his students a lot- “my best friend,” “someone important to me,” “my support system,” and etc. he’s always referring to you.

he missed seeing you all the time, but it’s all been so hectic for him he hates to admit that you barely cross his mind when he’s in the midst of a busy day. on top of his regular grueling school work, he has to lesson-plan for the days he’s teaching, grade papers, as well as check in with his professors and mentors.

he doesn’t know how he does it.

working in that library was excruciating, but he missed nothing more than the last half hour of his shifts where it’d just be you two, sending shy glances at one another until it hit midnight. he doesn’t even mind the rest of the 6 hour shift where you’re just sitting in the same spot that you always gravitate towards, head in the textbook for him to look up at every now and then.

you tell him you love him for the second time at the end of your graduation party when all of the guests have cleared out of your half empty apartment.

“what?” his eyes go wide, exactly like they did a year ago.

“i love you, izuku.” you ball the sides of your graduation gown, wrinkling the fabric in your hands.

you’re sober this time, which makes it infinitely more painful to say out loud.

his mouth gapes open as if he’s a fish gasping for water. he doesn’t know what to say.

“i have for years.” you fill in the silence, fidgeting with the silky material. “ever since you kicked me out of that fucking library, i think. i don’t know. maybe i’m being stupid, but i can’t help it. i love you, and i need you to know before… you know.”

it’s been three years, and you’ve waited until this night to pour it all out because you knew that in less than 24 hours, you’d be going your separate ways.

in a perfect situation, izuku would tell you that he feels the same. he’d run through an airport to stop you from leaving and beg you to stay with him. you wouldn’t have to go back home. you’d share an apartment. live in the city. start your entry jobs. you’d have time together.

“i’m sorry.” is all he says. “i’m sorry.” he repeats.

tears well in his eyes, and he grabs you by the shoulders to pull you into his chest.

“sheesh, you’re such a crybaby.” you choke out a half chuckle, your eyes running hot now. “don’t be sorry, okay? i get it. i know.”

your arms tightly wrap around izuku’s waist as you two silently sob into one another. his hand runs through your hair, stopping at the nape of your neck to pull you closer.

there’s something much more painful behind this confession to cry about. you’re leaving the city, and you have no reason to stay. for the first time in three years, izuku won’t be within arm’s reach and you’re left with the cold reality of navigating your future without your best friend by your side.

“you know, i..” he begins, pulling you back to look at your face, searching for the right words, or an answer. “it’s not that i don’t feel the same, okay?”

his cheeks lightly dust over pink. it’s the first time he’s admitted that out loud.

“i know.” you sadly smile, your hand reaching up to wipe away the stray tears left on his cheeks. “we’ll be okay. we worked hard for this, izuku.”

izuku felt like throwing up. he had spent the last three years working himself into the ground with endless all-nighters, black coffees, and missed events to get everything he’s ever wanted for his future, so why does it feel like his world is slipping from between his fingers?

yes, he worked hard, but he wondered if it was all enough?

“i’m going to miss you.” he mutters, connecting your foreheads together. “i already do. you’re everything to me.”

“me more. i’ll miss you more.”

after that night, you don’t see izuku again for a long time.

izuku jumps into his new position at the local high school in the same school district as the middle school he worked at during his last year of university. he feels a sense of relief everytime he walks into his school building- something that he couldn’t ever say during his years as a student.

you move back home and land an entry job at a startup tech company. it’s boring work, but at least it’s remote and your days don’t mesh into one- you made sure you would never have to go through that again.

you try to stay connected, but work is busy, and you’re both trying to figure out what life is supposed to look like post-grad. occasionally, you’ll send each other a meaningless “thinking of you” message, but you eventually lose contact after a couple of years of trying to plan visits and meet ups- there is just no time. there never was.

at 27-years-old, izuku is spending his late afternoon sitting in his empty classroom with one of his students. it’s half an hour past their scheduled parent-teacher conference time, and he’s wondering if he should just reschedule.

“are you sure your mom is coming? did you tell her the right time and date?” izuku sighs, resting his head on a propped elbow.

“duh. what kind of student do you think i am?” they scoff, glancing up at him from their phone.

“judging by your grades, i know exactly the kind of student you are.” he mumbles.

izuku’s trying to not panic, the kid clearly isn’t, but he’s wondering how far back this sets his schedule. he should be starting on the stack of papers to grade by now. he still needs to write out a lesson plan for tomorrow. maybe the kids deserve a movie day? maybe he deserves a movie day.

“don’t freak out.” izuku hears from outside of his door “you’re fine. it’s okay. seriously, chill the fuck out you weren’t interrupting anything, i needed a break anyways. i’m walking in right now. yeah, i’ll let you know how it goes.”

finally.

izuku straightens up, and tightens his tie. he whips open his laptop and pulls up the tabs of grades and assignments to discuss.

“i’m so sorry-” the voice falters at the end as it enters the classroom.

“don’t be, i was just-” izuku glances up from his screen and his throat suddenly closes shut.

5 years later, and the universe leads you back to one another. here. in his classroom.

“izuku midoriya?” you cough out.

for the first time in his life, he doesn’t like the way his name sounds coming out of your mouth. it’s hesitant. it sounds foreign. it makes him question himself for a moment.

yes? that’s me, right? it’s me, izuku. your izuku.

“what are…uh.. you…here?” he stammers, unable to get the words out.

you take a step forward into the classroom. you could pass out at the sight of him. he still seemed as boyish as ever. maybe a bit broader, and taller, but his hair is still just as wild as it was in university. you can’t help but feel a twinge of insecurity as you wonder if you looked any different as well.

“uh…where’s mom?” your nephew glances back and forth between you two starstrucked at the sight of one another. “we have to look over my grades and stuff, you know.”

“right!” you exclaim. “your mom got caught up at work, so she asked me to come in.” you awkwardly shift in your position, your eyes never leaving izuku’s.

izuku’s face flares up in heat, snapping back into the present as his eyes flicker back towards his student.

“you know what? let’s reschedule that. you can go and i’ll see you tomorrow?” he quickly stands up, knocking over his chair and hitting his knee against his desk in the process.

“really?” they cock an eyebrow at the shift in behavior from the two adults in the room.

“yup! we’re running late and i have a meeting right now, so i’ll just email your mom to reschedule.” he forces a reassuring grin, making his way around his desk. “don’t forget to read over the syllabus to see what’s due, alright?”

“alright, i guess. see you tomorrow then, sensei” they shoot you a questioning side glance as they sling their backpack over their shoulder. “are you taking me home?”

“no.” you say, almost a bit too quickly. “uh, i have some errands to run before your mom gets back home, so you go on ahead i’ll see you at home.”

once your nephew leaves, unsuspecting of the thick line of tension running between his aunt and teacher, izuku quickly rushes over and shuts his door.

“whatareyoudoinghere?” the sentence leaves his mouth in an incoherent string of words. he grabs you by the shoulders and lets his eyes take in your face. every curve, every mark, every wrinkle, old and new.

you feel 19 again. you guess the urge to kiss izuku midoroya never leaves you, after all.

“my sister just got a new job, so i’m living with her and helping her out with the kids while she adjusts.” you breathlessly stare at him. “i didn’t know you were still in the city.”

of course he’s still here- exactly where you left him after all these years. his grip on your shoulders tightens as a response. he’s scared that if he lets go, you’ll be gone for good, or at least for another 5 years.

“we should catch up.” you smile, grabbing onto his forearms as a warmth crawls up your next “when are you free? i mean, you’re probably really busy, but even a phone call-”

“tonight? how about tonight?” he blurts out. “we can go somewhere?”

izuku reassures himself that it’s fine. the kids can have a movie day, and he’ll spend that time grading papers and catching up on work. the only thing he needs is right in front of him.

seeing your face light up makes him feel nothing but nostalgic euphoria. he never wants to lose this feeling again.

“i’ll text you, then? you still have my number?”

he almost laughs in your face. your text conversation has been pinned to the top since the day you exchanged phone numbers.

“by heart.”

“tech? like you work in IT?” izuku’s face scrunches in disgust. he almost spits his drink out. “why the hell would you do that to yourself?”

“shut up!” you rub your face in your hands, snorting out a laugh. “it’s easy, i’m in a senior position, it pays well, and it’s remote. that’s all i care about for now.”

you two meet at a nearby bar. outside of his suit and tie, he looked much younger. he looks like the izuku you knew half a decade ago with his perpetual pink cheeks, slightly too large graphic tee, and red sneakers.

“so you’re now living with your sister… in the city.” he begins, looking into your eyes with a hopeful gleam. “for how long?”

“i’m not sure.” you shrug. “i’m still figuring it out, but my lease back home is up at the end of next month, so either way, i have to see what i want to do by then.”

“you should stay in the city.” the words slipped out of his mouth before he could process them.

“i mean- it’s just, you know, your sister is here, and her kids, and there’s more opportunities and stuff, and your work is remote anyways, and uh-” he stammers, words flowing out in an unstoppable stream.

“-and you’re here?” you tease.

his face flushes red.

“it is a possibility.” you sigh, shooting him a subtle smirk and saving him the embarrassment of coming up with a response. “i don’t know though. my sister wants me to stay too, but it’s a lot to think about.”

“i get it. my mom moved to the city to be near. it was hard for her.” he takes a sip of his drink. “not with me, though! she’s got a townhouse in the outskirts.” he quips.

you laugh. he definitely hasn't changed.

“speaking of, do you want to come back to my apartment? right now?” he shyly asks, avoiding your gaze for a moment.

“right now?” you look down and check the time displayed on your phone.

11:00pm.

“it’s a school night isn’t it?” you cock your head to the side. "i'm surprised you even wanted to meet up this late. thought i'd have to book office hours with you weeks in advance to catch up." you tease

izuku mentally curses at himself for being so forgetful, and so predictable. he doesn’t want this night with you to end, but that 7:00am alarm set for tomorrow morning is inching closer and closer.

“you’re right.” his confidence deflates. “i guess we should get going.”

you two pay your tab and make your way to the exit. you stand facing each other at the corner of the street, taking in each other’s presence once more.

there’s a faint buzzing in your ear from the lamppost hanging above you and your breaths come out in shallow puffs. you don’t know why you’re so nervous all of the sudden. you wish you didn’t have to leave again.

“so, can we do this again? can i see you again?” he asks, shoving his hands into his pockets.

“you think i’d get to see izuku midoriya from beyond the grave and let you get away? for the second time?”

he feels like he could cry right now, so he pulls you in for a hug instead. you haven’t changed at all- not in the ways that matter anyways. his hand falls against the nape of your neck as he presses his cheek against your forehead.

“i missed you.” he mutters into your hair.

“me more.”

before you go your separate ways, i love you sits at the tip of his tongue. he wants to tell you. to finally say back after all of these years, but it somehow doesn’t feel right- not yet at least.

a few weeks later, you find yourself sitting in one of izuku’s classroom desks. the top button of his shirt is undone, his sleeves rolled up, and the soft late afternoon sunlight streaming through his window bathes him in gold.

from over your laptop screen, you see izuku mumbling to himself as he reads through essays while twirling a red pen between his fingers. the look of concentration had been plastered to his face since you were students- dark furrowed brows, unblinking eyes, a twinge of anxiety, and tightly pressed lips.

“you’re staring.” he mutters in between his incoherent mumbles.

his eyes snap up to meet yours.

“no i’m not.” you shrug, suppressing a satisfied smile as your eyes return to your own screen.

“I think i’ve gotten pretty good at noticing after spending all those years with you in that library.” he returns the smile, leaning back in his seat. “you don’t stare often, but when you do, you stare loud.”

“says you.” you roll your eyes. “you don’t think i ever noticed the thousand glances every hour?”

his face scrunches in embarrassment.

“not like i could help myself.” he mutters, sheepishly scratching the back of his neck.

“ditto.” you halfway close your laptop and rest your head on a propped elbow. “but you knew that.”

the air in the room thickens between you two. you’ve been itching to have a conversation with izuku about your last moments before you left the city 5 years ago, but there hasn’t been a good time to bring it up. you weren’t even sure if you should at all.

“i don’t think i ever noticed.”

“noticed what?”

“that you liked me.” he pressed his lips together, nervous to bring up the past. “like that at least. i didn’t have a clue before you took me to that party.”

“how could you?” you breathe out a chuckle. “you were drowning in your work and studies, there was no time to even sleep let alone have anything romantic.”

a beat of silence passes.

“sorry.” he mutters.

“don’t be.” you shrug. "i loved you enough for the both of us. you were my best friend, and i wouldn’t change anything. maybe i would’ve forced you to take more naps, though.” you chuckle.

he doesn’t like the past tense termage of this conversation. it makes him feel a bit nauseous thinking that he really did lose it all, even with you here in front of him.

“i told you i felt the same, didn’t i?”

“mmm.. i guess so.” you mutter. “but it’s different. it was a goodbye.”

“i’m sorry.” he says again, with a pout this time.

“stop that.” you launch your pen in his direction, bouncing off of the chalk board behind him. “i’m here now. you’re here. you’re still my best friend. everything’s the same, except we’re a little bit older and have 5 years to catch up on. isn’t that enough?”

you two danced around the conversation for a few more minutes before returning to your work in silence. there was no clear answer as to where your feelings for each other stand now, but he feels just as sick as he did the day of the grad party.

but isn’t that enough? to just have you here now?

on a saturday night in his apartment, just days before you have to go home and sort out your living situation, izuku tells you he loves you for the first time.

you’re staring at him, unsure if maybe you heard him wrong or if it was the television in the background.

“huh?” your mouth gapes open. “what’d you say?”

“i..i love you.” his voice shakes as the words leave his mouth. “i love you, okay?”

for a split second, there’s a sequence of images that flash through his mind. his body would learn to wake up at 6:55am every morning despite his alarm being set for 7:00am. he sees you peacefully sleeping next to him, and he can’t bring himself to let that alarm go off and disturb you.

he’d start the coffee pot- enough for two, obviously. maybe he’d leave a nice note for you to start your day off with. maybe a grocery list if you’re up for the trip, but you’d insist that you go to the market together on the weekend. you’re very distracting, and he knows this, but you’d somehow always meet at the dining room table or his classroom to do work together.

he’d come home to you softly singing in the kitchen while making dinner. every now and then, he’d surprise you with flowers when he comes home from work, but he’ll brush it off and say it’s “for the apartment” just out of pure nerves. movie nights. falling asleep on the couch together. waking up in the afternoon with a split second of panic- but it’s the weekend and he doesn’t have a class to get to. he’d see the sunlight pool against your face as you slowly wake up from your slumber with fluttering eyelashes. he’d kiss you in that unsuspecting moment. he’d say he loves you with every breath leaving his lungs. he’d always have time for you.

“izuku.” you sadly smile, turning over to the stove and extinguishing the flame. “you don’t have to do this, you know?”

his heart sinks to his stomach.

“i know- no it’s not like that.” he stammers. “it’s because.. i’m saying it because…”

he makes his way around the kitchen island to you, firmly gripping your shoulders. he wants to make sure you hear this from him properly. after all of these years.

“because i love you, and i think i alway have.” he bites his bottom lip. “and i think i always will, and you’re here, and i’m here, and i know it’s hard because i kind of really messed things up in university, but to be honest, i regret everything because yeah i love my job and i’m doing okay now, but i lost you for 5 years and thought i’d never get to see you again and i should've-”

he stops himself when he sees his reflection in your eyes. he’s doing it again- the rambling.

“sorry.” he mutters. “but do you…do you understand?” he almost pleads.

“i understand.” you nod your head, a long exhale following your reply.

for a moment, you’re 22 again, and the tears in his eyes threatening to spill over are no longer apologetic, but now hopeful.

you can’t help but pull him into a hug, running your hand up and down his back as he sniffs back his tears.

“always such a crybaby, izuku.” you muffle into his shoulder. “i love you, too. you know that.”

“i feel so stupid.” he chokes out. “5 years is so long, and i feel like i blacked out for the entirety of that time and now that you’re back, i’m alive and can't do it without you again.”

he pulls away, looking back at you with furrowed brows and tear stained cheeks.

“please stay in the city. please.”

your eyes widen at the request- the same request you wished left his lips all those years ago.

“you want me to stay?”

“selfishly, yes.” he bites down on his bottom lip. “here. with me.”

you take a moment and let your eyes wander around the apartment. you eye the half cooked dinner on the stove, the pile of unopened mail sitting on the counter, the row of dead plants lining the living room window.

izuku follows your eyes. he knows you’d settle in nicely, almost like the final piece in a puzzle. he feels it in his gut. he also feels the panic bubbling in his stomach the longer your gaze lingers at the chaos behind him.

“is that too fast?” he breaks the silence. “sorry. i don’t mean to jump from ‘i love you’ to ‘move in with me’ in the same night.” he awkwardly laughs, releasing you from his grip. “uh, maybe we’ll talk more about that after dinner.”

his face burns into a bright red- snapping out of his love dazed state and back into the reality where he just confessed to his best friend on a random night in.

“maybe after dinner, you can give me a proper tour of the place?”

for the first time in izuku's life, he feels content knowing that time passes and the world continues to turn.

with you, it feels a bit gentler.

with you, it's worth it.

bonus ssrryy i have to be indulgent lmao:

the first time izuku kisses you, you're on your way back from a late night outing from the bars with his coworkers where he introduces you as his partner for the first time.

"you sure you're okay?" he laughs as you rub your hand against the back of his neck from the passenger seat.

"super peachy, zuku." you hiccup, twirling a green curl between your fingers. "a few drinks got nothing on me."

izuku presses his lip into a wobbly smile.

from his peripheral, he feels your stare burning into his side profile, only making him more nervous by the second. he thinks about teasing you and calling it out for a moment, but he remains silent for the rest of the drive back home.

izuku parks the car, shutting off the engine and letting the overhead light dimly illuminated the space between you two.

he leans over to meet your eyes and rests his elbow over the center console, taking a second to silently debrief from the night's social outing.

"thanks for coming out with me." he whispers, reaching down and shyly interlocking his index finger with yours.

"i love a good excuse to drink." you laugh, leaning in and letting your foreheads connect.

izuku only had a single drink several hours ago, but he suddenly blacks out. with his other hands, he reaches up and tips your chin up and lock his lips with yours.

it takes you off guard, but you don't hesitate to reach up and rest your hand on the side of his neck.

when izuku pulls away, his breathing is heavy and face grows red. your finger remains interlocked.

"um. i love you." he coughs, briefly meeting your gaze before darting away. "uh, sorry i should have asked" he sheepishly rubs the back of his neck.

"i love you, izuku midoriya." you say in a teasing tone, leaning further over the center console and into the driver's seat.

izuku leans away until his back hits the soft interior of the car door.

"uh, we should.. we should go in? right?" he starts, eyes widening as you inch closer.

you reach over and grab the collar of his shirt, pulling him into you.

"yeah, we should." you say before crashing your lips into his, feeling him accept the defeat with a nervous laugh as he lets his hands find the soft skin of your cheek and warmth of your neck.

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amomentsescape · 2 months ago

Note

Yay request are back! I loved your yandere slasher sleepwalking one shot so may I request another sleepwalking reader scenario?

But instead of sleep escaping they just roam around like a drunk saying cute things like about how much they love them and silly things like how the strawberries are so obnoxious always saying they're the best fruit while the reader is just sitting in the fridge and random stuff like that?

And the Slasher just finds it aboustly adorble and fondly giggle at their antics while lovingly guiding them to bed?

😴😴😴🤤🤤🤤🥰🥰🥰

Slashers with Funny Sleepwalking! Reader

Slashers x Reader (Separate)

Includes: Freddy, Michael, Jason, Thomas, Bubba, Brahms, Norman, Billy, Stu, Vincent, & Bo

A/N: It's been a long time coming. I'm so sorry for the wait on this, and on anyone else's requests still sitting in my inbox. This was a joy to write though, so thank you!

Freddy Krueger

Who needs TV when Freddy has you?

You aren't really able to fully sleep in his world, so he comes to you most nights

He just flops into your still warm spot in bed and watches you stumble around the room

"Freeeedddy! I love you!" you coo over and over

And every time, he replies with a chuckle and an "I love you too"

You giggle and just stumble around some more, bumping into the same wall multiple times

When you finally come back to bed, you just fall right on top of him, not even noticing he's there

Michael Myers

You've woken up a few times in the morning to sore lips

(He duct taped them shut throughout the night)

He's not really home most of the time anyways, so it doesn't really matter

But when he is, the last thing he wants to deal with is you laughing and practically screaming at any object you bump into

He's quite literally locked you in the bedroom some nights so he doesn't have to hear your incessant babbling

"Michael, why is there glue on my cheek?"

He'll just shrug and walk off, tossing a broken glue stick in the trash

In his defense, the glue was nontoxic

Jason Voorhees

He loves to hear your random laughs and nonsensical talk of hysteria

You've grabbed onto his arm multiple times, using all of your strength to pull him outside to go on an "adventure"

"But, Jason! There's strawberry unicorns and feather fields out there!"

He honestly isn't sure if he should be laughing or feeling actively concerned for your wild sense of imagination

He always guides you lovingly back to bed while you have the cutest pout on your lips

"But it's time to explore!"

He just kisses your head and places the blanket back around you

It only takes a few seconds for you to fall peacefully back asleep again

Thomas Hewitt

You're going to make this man go into cardiac arrest

You're sleep talking is adorable, of course

But what isn't adorable is how you think each one of his carving knives is a toy doll

"This one is so pretty! What should we name her?" you asked all giddy

Thomas's smile turns to one of horror as he watches you swing his freshly sharpened butcher's knife around like it was flying

"Weeee!" you squealed happily, only to drop the knife two inches from your foot

Thomas about died

Since then, he makes it a point to lock you both in the bedroom each night

He'll happily indulge in your fantasy like dreams from there

Bubba Sawyer

He literally sets an alarm so he can see what made up conversation you're going to have each night

He'll follow you around, giggling with you about whatever you have to say

"And then I told him to go away cuz why would he say that my favorite fruit isn't his favorite fruit? Who does that? Oh, and then he went and..."

And Bubba just holds your hand and hums along with you as if he's listening

He has no idea what you're talking about most of the time, but hearing your sleepy voice is just so heartwarming, he can't help it

You always wonder why you wake up in the morning sounding like a dying frog

Brahms Heelshire

Oh, Brahms eats it up

You're constantly on a rampage going on and on about how much you love him and how much you need him

And this is exactly what he wants to hear

The moment he feels you stir in the middle of the night, he rolls over and holds you tight, making sure your sleeping actions don't cause you to leave the room

"Is there anything on your mind?" he asks softly

The moment you hear his voice, a big goofy grin spreads across your face

"Oh, Brahms! I love you soooo much. I wish I could just be here with you forever!"

Do you even know what you're saying? Of course not

But Brahms will do everything he can to believe it

Norman Bates

Norman is certainly guilty of staying up too late reading some new novel that has him engrossed

You've almost scared him a few times when he turns to look at you only to be met with your open eyes and droopy smile

"I like the bagels that jam," you say sweetly

Norman just looks at you in a confused smile

"Sure you do, honey"

You just smile and flop your head onto his arm

"Jam jam bagel. Jam jam bagel," you whisper-sing

Norman just chuckles quietly and goes back to his book, letting you continue your random sleepy talk

Billy Loomis

Billy just wakes up with a groan each time

"Babe, please just go to sleep"

"But the caterpillars! They're hiding..." you say, rolling all over the place

He replies with his usual grunt and rolls over, flopping right on top of you

"They're gone now! How did you do that?" you exclaim

He puts his hand over your mouth

"We do this every night," he mumbles into your neck

He's just met with a snore as you've already passed back out

"I don't know how I put up with you," he says with a slight chuckle

Stu Macher

He wakes up to the sound of yelling and fast thumping coming from the living room below

He all but trips on his way downstairs, worried something was wrong

Except he is simply met with you running around in a blanket, yelling about incoherent nonsense

"The snakes! The berries! The fridge!" followed by an immediate laugh

Stu stands there for a bit before finally chasing after you, swooping you up into his arms

"No! They got me! I'll never surrender!" you yell at the top of your lungs

"And I thought I was the loud one," he laughs, carrying your wiggling frame back upstairs to bed

Vincent Sinclair

He wakes up in the middle of the night to a soft voice singing

This would honestly be terrifying in any other context

But since this is almost a nightly occurrence by now, he just responds with a sigh

"Then the fruit tree grows, and the fruit starts to fall, and the-"

Vincent picks you up and tosses you back into bed

"I can fly now!" you yell, kicking your feet

He can't help but smile at your behavior

It might be two in the morning, but seeing you so goofy and free warms Vincent's heart

Just please don't sing so loud anymore, or else Vincent is going to get an earful from Bo the next morning

Bo Sinclair

He can hear you banging around in the kitchen

And he's about to storm out there to complain how it's 3 in the morning, and you shouldn't even be awake right now

But instead, he finds all the food on the floor as you try to wedge yourself inside the fridge

"Lava. There's lava everywhere," you're muttering

"Darlin' what in God's name are you-"

"Bo! You're on fire! Hurry! Hop in!" you yell, trying to make room for him in the cramped fridge

He just lets out a frustrated sigh

"Not tonight, sweetheart."

He quickly picks you and carries you back to the bedroom

"I didn't know you could walk on lava!"

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delulujuls · 11 months ago

Text

i'd give you the whole world if i only knew its price | ls18

am i a lance's girlie? no. am i becoming a lance's girlie? dont look at me

he seems so sweet idk why people hate on him

summary: lance's love language is giving gifts and when it came to giving something in return he'll accept only one way

warnings: none

pairing: fem!bffreader x lance stroll

The little girl sat on the curb, tears streaming down her rosy, tear-stained cheeks. In her tiny hands, she held her shattered helmet, unfit for further use. The girl wasn't crying because her father had scolded her for accidentally damaging the helmet. Instead, it was because, until she could find a replacement, she wouldn't be able to race with the other kids. That is, if there were any funds available for a new one.

Seeing the seven-year-old in tears, a slightly older boy, aware of the reason behind her distress, approached her with his newly purchased helmet in hand, crouching down in front of her.

"Here, you can have mine."

The girl stopped sobbing as he sat beside her, handing her the helmet, which she hesitantly accepted.

"I can't take it, my dad doesn't have any money left."

"You can take it, I always have two helmets with me."

The boy smiled at her, but uncertainty still lingered on her face. He glanced toward his father, who stood under one of the tents, observing the children a few meters away. Seeing the tearful face of the girl and the joyful expression on his son's face, he also smiled slightly and nodded.

"See?" he said, squeezing her hands that held the helmet. "My dad agreed. You can take it as a gift."

"Really?"

While her face was still wet from tears, her eyes no longer radiated sadness. Looking into the brown eyes of the boy, he nodded and he stood up, extending his hand.

"By the way, I'm Lance. Now, come on, it's about to start!"

"Please, Y/N, don't be like that."

The boy slumped onto the hotel bed, closely watching the girl's face on his phone screen.

"I'm sorry, Lance, but I can't."

She replied, her phone propped up against a coffee mug, engrossed in browsing job listings on her laptop.

"Why can't you just take it as a gift?"

Y/N scoffed and shook her head.

"Every month you give me some gift, Lance. Last month, as a 'gift,' you bought me a Birkin bag, and I don't even want to know how much it cost."

"You said your bag was falling apart, I wanted to make you happy."

She sighed and shifted her gaze to her phone. Lance looked at her attentively with his puppy eyes, visibly concerned. He wasn't seeing any problem here.

"The bag is gorgeous, and you have no idea how much joy you brought me," she said with grattitude in her voice. "But even a simple Target bag would make me happy, you know?"

"Yeah, probably. But this one is okay too, right?"

She laughed and shook her head.

"It's beautiful. Thank you very much."

Hearing her words, Lance breathed a sigh of relief. Seeing her smile, he did the same.

"So, if you want to repay me, let me fly you to Bahrain."

She lowered her gaze, and the smile faded from her face. Barely scraping by on bills and struggling to find a new job, spending her remaining money on plane tickets was the last thing on her mind. Even if, it could cover just one ticket.

"I can't afford to visit you, Lance."

"That's why let me take care of it. We haven't seen each other for so long, and I want to finally see you and start this season together," he said, looking at her worried face. Money meant nothing to him; he could send a private jet to pick her up, just to have her with him. "Please, Y/N."

She sighed and shook her head.

"I feel so embarrassed. I'll never be able to repay you for all of this."

"So, is it a yes? Can I book the tickets?"

He asked, hope in his voice, and a smile slowly crept back onto his face.

"Fine, but no more gifts this month, okay?"

"I'll try to meet that condition."

Lance and Y/N had been friends since the day he noticed her crying next to the carting track, holding her damaged helmet. They remained friends through all the years of go-karting, and their friendship persisted even when Y/N had to give up racing due to financial reasons.

At first, though she shudders at the thought even now, she hated Lance with every fiber of her being. It wasn't him she despised, but the obscene amounts of money his father had, providing him with everything he could dream of. Y/N was aware that Lance had both many fans and critics, so every time she came across unfavorable comments about him online, she felt embarrassed. After all, she used to cry and curse him every night, even though deep down, she didn't hate him; she just disliked the situation he was in, which she was not allowed to have.

Lance himself knew that without money, he would never have entered the serious world of motorsport. Numerous training sessions, expensive lessons, academy tests – Lance knew that money secured his current position, but talent couldn't be bought. He knew he could drive, and even the people who hated him online knew it too, disliking him simply because he succeeded. Being in Formula 1 cost the Canadian a lot, as he constantly felt like he didn't belong there. Even in the paddock, despite rarely facing personal comments, he knew many saw him as the boy with his daddy's big money. Lance often felt lonely, so he deeply appreciated every moment he could spend with Y/N. No one was as important to him as she was.

However, Y/N focused on being an ordinary teenager after giving up her motorsport career. She finished high school, got into college, even found a job and rented an apartment. Although her life didn't unfold exactly as she wanted, she stayed connected to motorsport through Lance, whom she supported as much as she could. Now things were getting complicated again as the season was about to begin, meaning she could only cheer for him from her couch. But for Lance, there were no such limitations. If he could solve a problem with money, he would. Furthermore, Lance found immense joy in showering Y/N with various gifts. Giving her presents was his love language, something that Y/N had no clue about.

"There she is."

Lance smiled at the sight of his friend, who stepped out of the taxi in front of one of the Bahrain hotels. She returned the smile, hugging him.

"I was talking about the bag, but it's nice to see you too," he teased, pointing to the Birkin she was holding, prompting her to playfully nudge him. Lance chuckled and embraced her, taking her suitcase and leading her inside the hotel.

"I hope the flight was okay and you're full of energy because we're going to a team dinner tonight."

"So, basically your dad is inviting us to dinner?"

She asked jokingly, looking at him as they entered the elevator.

"Technically, yes, my dad is inviting us to dinner."

Y/N laughed, "Well, Lawrence Stroll can't be refused."

Shortly afterward, they were on the right floor where both of them had their rooms. Lance handed her the key card and when she entered her room, she noticed a bouquet of roses and a small package on the bed.

"Lance..."

Turning around, she saw him biting his lip, trying to hide his smile.

"Yes, yes, I know, we had a deal. But these roses were practically free and the little gift next to it is, let's say, a shared one."

He explained, putting aside her suitcase. She also placed her bag down and approached the bed, picking up the bouquet of white roses. She smelled one and smiled, feeling their pleasant fragrance. Lance smiled too.

"You're impossible, you know that?"

"Open the gift."

He encouraged her, leaning against the wall.

She smelled the flowers once more and put them aside, taking the small package wrapped in black ribbon. As she untied it and unwrapped the light-colored paper, she discovered the familiar shade of green. It was a long, satin dress with thin straps, in the characteristic color of Aston Martin. She smiled to herself.

"I guess this is for tonight's dinner?"

Lance nodded, "Do you like it?"

"It's beautiful," she ran her fingers over the fabric, "I hope you have a shirt in the same color."

He chuckled.

"Don't worry, I won't disappoint you."

Indeed, at the agreed-upon time, Lance showed up at her door, wearing a shirt in the same color, black jeans, and matching shoes. He smiled at the sight of his friend, who opened the door ready to go.

"You look gorgeous. The color suits you."

Y/N laughed and closed the door behind her.

"That's good because otherwise, I would have to wear the white dress I brought with me, and someone might think I'm supporting Haas."

Lance laughed at her words, pleased to spend these few days with his friend. Honestly, he only stopped feeling lonely when she was around or when they had the chance to talk on FaceTime. Of course, it wasn't the same as having her physically by his side.

The evening passed in a pleasant atmosphere and time flowed effortlessly. Lawrence invited everyone who had arrived with Aston Martin to Bahrain, so instead of reserving a specific number of tables, Lance's father rented the entire restaurant for the evening.

Celebrating the team's excellent work during the winter months, the tables were adorned with champagne and white wine. Y/N had forgotten how weak her head could be, so after two glasses of wine during dinner, a slight buzz started to occupy her mind. Apologizing to Lance under the pretext of going to the bathroom, she stepped outside, sitting on the balcony. Despite being February, Bahrain offered pleasant temperatures, and even after the dark, a warm breeze caressed her exposed arms.

"Here you are."

The girl jumped, hearing his voice.

"You weren't around for half an hour, and I had the waitress check if something happened to you in the bathroom."

"I needed some fresh air."

Y/N replied, smiling at him. She noticed Lance's steps were a bit unsteady and a blush adorned his cheeks. When he sat next to her, she giggled.

"I can't believe we got tipsy."

Lance chuckled and rubbed his face with his hands.

"I won't lie, I'm feeling a bit dizzy."

Still giggling, the girl rested her head on his shoulder. Lance wrapped his arm around her waist and rested his cheek on her head.

"I'm glad you came."

"I'm glad you invited me."

"I'd give you the whole world if I only knew its price."

Hearing his words, Y/N raised her head and looked at his face. His brown, gentle eyes gazed at her affectionately and a faint smile played on the corners of his lips. Lance tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, gently caressing her cheek with his thumb.

"I hate that I can't give you anything in return."

Lance smiled, "Actually, there's something you could give me in return."

The girl raised her eyebrows inquisitively.

"You could be my girlfriend."

Y/N blinked several times, unsure if her slightly intoxicated mind was playing tricks on her or if she understood Lance correctly.

"Do you want me to be your girlfriend?"

"Oh, God, you have no idea how much."

The girl smiled and, without saying a word, cupped his cheeks in her hands and kissed him. Lance hugged her even tighter, returning the kiss, feeling a burst of fireworks in his stomach. He could bring her joy with money, and she could do it in just one way.

"I love you, Lance."

With love.

#f1 imagines #f1 #f1 one shot #formula 1 #f1 oneshots #f1 imagine #ls18 #lance stroll x reader #lance stroll x you #lance stroll #aston martin #aston martin f1

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funficwriter · 1 year ago

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Fontaine Characters with Violinist Reader!

A/N: This disappearing thing of mine is annoying, I'm trying to stop it. However, I finally got a bit of spare time to play Genshin and I am so, so in love with Fontaine. I think it's gonna be a wonderful arc. I haven't felt this much jubilation since Liyue or Inazuma!

Warnings; None, really.

Lyney, Lynette, Neuvillette, Navia, Furina, Wriothesley (no particular order)

Lyney

First off, this boy is no stranger to performing, an activity he loves. Naturally, he's going to be most interested in fellow performers, including you!

If you're the type to get anxious before, or even during a performance, say goodbye to that with him. He'll guide you through plenty of destressing rituals to help you relax beforehand.

(This included, but wasn't limited to; Taking deep breaths, doing tongue twisters, asking you to play meme songs on your violin, or tickling your sides because 'laughing is a great way to be loose'.)

Even during, should you freeze up and he's in the audience, he'll do a quick but loud magic trick to get everyone's eyes off you. Even one that makes him look like a fool, so long as you have time to put yourself together.

He'd LOVE to have you on stage with him! He adores your music and would ask you to sync it up with dramatic moments in his magic.

If you compose you own stuff, he's pretty much your biggest fan. The guy who never misses a concert. The loudest clapper. The biggest braggart.

"That gorgeous, graceful violinist we had the pleasure of watching? What if I told you that they're coupled up with an equally electric performer? That is, me~."

Lynette

It's easy to think that her brother outdoes her in terms of being your fan, but quietness hides a lot. If you think she doesn't care as much, you're so, so wrong.

She learned several music skills just to be closer to you, including sight-reading. BTW, she's got a killer voice and loves to sing out your compositions. Sometimes it helps you come up with alternative movements within them.

She can also play piano, to a good level of accompaniment. With time, one would think she is also a music assistant; It's not uncommon for her to be on your stage.

Lynette is VERY attentive to your instrument. Does it need rosin? A new bow, perhaps a re-hair? You just say the word, and she'll happily take it to the repair workshop if you have no time.

"By the way, Y/N prefers real horse hair, the thinnest you have. Don't worry. They're talented enough to thrive on it.".

She makes it a point to let you know how much she loves what you do: "All other music in Fontaine pales in its beauty next to yours. Please, keep playing.".

Neuvillette

You play the violin? (he crosses his legs and assumes his royal position). So when are you going to get married? Will you be okay playing a few pieces, even while being the spouse? /Half-joking, tbh.

For him to say that he is the lover of a music pioneer as important as you... Will never not be a moment of joy for him.

First off, what a sugar daddy. I hope you made a list of the expensive violins you wanted but couldn't afford. Because now, it's yours, never mind the Mora. Your very case may as well be coated with gold.

He won't die on this hill, but he would love it if you could play a bit during the parties he hosts. He loves live music to begin with, but after hearing you, it feels like no other pro could hope to sound as good as you.

(And side note, he likes how mesmerized everyone is with you lol)

If you're the type to remember your patron's personal preferences, and compose/play in accordance to that, just for him? Put hearts in his eyes. He's no longer joking about the wedding thing.

While he loves showing you off, he'll never force you if you're shy/nervous. If anything, he would also feel very special if he got to heard songs not out yet, compositions just for him...

"Perhaps this is Lady Furina's way of rewarding me for my years of service. Bless our Archon for giving me such a talented, show and heart-stopping partner.".

Navia

She likes that the Spina del Rosula is represented by passionate, talented people!

If you like sweets, I say just join her team. It's guaranteed pastries after each request lol.

Her detective work is cool, but can get a bit drab after a while. She likes asking you to play some violin ambiance, partly because it makes her feel cool, and partly because your music changes the atmosphere for much better.

Navia is a woman of decorum, but she'll often have trouble staying still during your concerts. It doesn't matter if there are rules to how loud a woman can cheer, she's happy for you and will make sure you know that.

She becomes even more proactive than usual. If a concert of yours falls on the same time as her work, she'll scour the ends of Teyvat for its solution, so she can see you.

With time, she might request you to play pieces that her father loved. Once they're brought back to life, through your own strings, she can't help but be a little emotional. She must have done something wonderful to have you.

"How beautiful, how poignant as you, my dear Y/N! This calls for macaroons! Which flavor would you like today?".

Furina

"Yes, Neuvillette, I know they perform and all, but why can't I keep them to myself! They're so darn great, I want that everyday!"

Of course, she's not gonna stop you, but beware; I feel like Furina would almost turn you into her own personal violinist lol.

She'd keep requesting your presence over her other personal entertainment and somewhat bombard you with song requests. Buuut if you're looking for a varied repertoire, she's your gal!

One reason she requests so much is because she so impressed with how you not only fulfill them all, you do it so creatively and beautifully. You don't just follow the note as it is... Once you're acquainted with what she likes, you modify the tune a bit to be more her taste.

She's so cute when she claps; The way her hands go so fast and she's about to get up from the seat, the huge eye and smile... Why, you might start reconsidering her offer.

"Bravooooo, Y/N!! Bravo! That was everything, I can't go on without an encore!"

If the tune is more happy-go-lucky, she will get up and dance along. Will also do it in circles around you because she's your little orb :3

Wriothesley

"Forgive me for intruding... But I was overhearing, and your playing is terrific. Electrifying. Do you happen to perform on Saturday nights? That's when I can leave the Fortress for a bit.".

Of all your fans, Wrio is one of the quieter ones, but not so much that no one knows it. For one, he's a Duke, he's bound to enjoy good music. And heavens knows he needs some fun in his life.

Here's a fun thing (ngl this is what I was excited to write): At first, it doesn't sound like he can make it to your recital. You see him on his desk, surrounded by paper mountains that only ever seem to grow. He doesn't want to make you sad, but his remark lets you know that he's not coming: "Would it kill some of these people to tone it down for a bit so I can go see my partner perform?".

So imagine your shock when you step on stage, and see him on the first row, sitting tall and handsome, shit-eating grin on his face and waving. You really bought it for a moment.

"Hehe... Did you really think I can't even make a bit of time to see Fontaine's best violinist in action? You actually bought that?".

I HC that he has insomnia, and has tried any things to cure it, but to no avail. It's rumored in Fontaine that his is incurable, but little do they know about how he lays down next to your sitting form. Little do they know of the soft lullabies you composed just for him, or how peacefully he dreams afterwards 💜

#genshin impact x reader #genshin impact fontaine #lyney x reader #lynette x reader #furina x reader #neuvillette x reader #navia x reader #wriothesley x reader #genshin impact fanfics #genshin impact fluff

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strangersteddierthings · 1 year ago

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Daily Ficlet

I'm challenging myself to write a little ficlet every day, using the prompts from this list. Today's prompt is coffee smell.

Eddie wakes to the smell of coffee.

That's not unusual for him. Wayne drinks coffee like water, has it both to wake up and go to bed. It's just that, usually, the coffee smell is fainter, having to make its way from the kitchen and through the door to his bedroom.

Did he leave the door open last night? That'd have been a bad idea, given what Steve and he got up to-

Oh. Oh shit! Steve and he-

Eddie cracks his eyes open finally. He's where he usually is when he wakes up; on the side of the bed closest to the door, on his stomach, arm hanging off the bed and face turned towards the door. The door, which is open, and Eddie knows he closed it because he remembers Steve pinning him against it as soon as Eddie had turned back around. Steve crowding into his space, one hand braced on the door beside Eddie's head, the other curling possessively on Eddie's hip. Steve dipping his head to nibble at his shoulder, before kissing and nibbling his way up Eddie's neck, jaw line, capturing Eddie's bottom lip between his teeth before kissing him properly, like Eddie has been wanting him to do since- well, forever probably.

He does a quick scan of the room, but Steve's shirt isn't on the floor by the door where Eddie had ripped it off him. And that. It's fine. Eddie's used to not getting the guy at the end of the story. There were no expectations, they didn't- well, there were promises whispered, but that's just. It's just the kind of words that slip out when wrapped up in the heat of the moment, yeah?

("God, you're so beautiful, Stevie. Beautiful and perfect for me." "Yes, yes, perfect for you. Wanna be. Wanna be perfect for you. Just you. Yours." "Mine. Just mine. You're mine, and I'm yours." "Yes yes yes yes!")

Just words said in the dark of night. Even if Eddie wants them to be real now. Wants to be Steve's and wants Steve to be his. If he just lays here, he can pretend a bit more. He can pretend that Steve's still asleep on the other side of the bed. That the door is open for any other reason than Steve slipping out while Eddie slept.

His other arm, the one trapped beneath him, is starting to get pins and needles, though, so he has to move. He heaves a sigh and digs his elbow into the mattress, using it as leverage to roll onto his back and away from the edge of the bed and-

"You awake babe?"

Eddie doesn't yelp. He'll deny it happening to the end of his days, but he wasn't expecting to hear a voice. Wasn't expecting- "Stevie."

"That's me," Steve says with a laugh. Steve, who has, apparently this whole time, been sitting up on the other side of the bed, Eddie's well-loved copy of The Hobbit in his hands, his shirt tragically back on. He tosses it softly towards the foot of the bed before shifting to drape himself across Eddie, propping himself up with an elbow near Eddie's head. Steve's other hand comes up to brush the hair from Eddie's face before trailing down his neck, across his shoulder, and down his whole arm, leaving goosebumps in its wake, before Steve tangles their fingers together and gives Eddie's hand a light squeeze that he reciprocates on instinct. It's the right thing to do, Eddie decides, because the smile the spreads across Steve's face is soft and so fond before disappearing from view because Steve lowers himself down to press sweet and gentle kisses to Eddie's lips, once, twice, thrice, before peppering kisses to every inch of Eddie's face he can. Eddie is expecting morning breath, but Steve smells of coffee.

A smile spreads across Eddie's own lips, and laughter follows, because this is so sweet, so fond, makes him feel so safe and loved that the joy Eddie feels has to break free from his body somehow. He chases Steve's mouth down again to kiss him deeper, licking into his mouth to chase the coffee taste. The kisses turn lazy and eventually Steve pulls back, a dopey smile on his face that Eddie is sure is also on his own face. "Good morning."

"Good morning indeed," Eddie says, his thumb rubbing softly against Steve's where they're still holding hands. "Why're you wearing your shirt?"

Steve gives a one shoulder shrug. "Didn't think Wayne would appreciate the view as much as you do."

Eddie blinks up at him. "Wayne's up?"

"He made the coffee that lured me from your bed," Steve says, and his tone is teasing but there's something in his eyes, in the way Eddie feels him tense just the slightest that makes Eddie think 'Oh!' again.

Eddie had been so sure early, that Steve would rather slink away before Eddie woke, but he thinks Steve has the fear of being kicked out now that he's awake. Of having overstayed his welcome, or pushed at a boundary he didn't know Eddie set. Can't have him thinking that. "Well, you're probably right, he wouldn't enjoy the view as much as I. You let me know if that ever changes. I'll not have an old man trying to steal my boyfriend."

That's the right thing to say, Eddie knows immediately. Steve settles completely against him in a way Eddie hadn't known was possible. It's not that Steve gets heavier as he lays across him more, but Eddie feels him press more into him somehow. Clutches tighter at their joined hands and leans back down to rubs his nose against Eddie's cheek. "Worry not, babe. There's only one Munson I want to call boyfriend."

And that. Well. How is Eddie supposed to not kiss Steve -his boyfriend- silly after that?

#steddie #my fic #just a lil ficlet #wayne's just out in the living room turning the tv up so he doesnt have to hear them making out

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middlingmay · 20 days ago

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So I rewatched Elvis and have we done canon-ish era music star Gale yet?

Gale has terrible stage fright, but music was an escape for him growing up. The ethereal beauty in the voices of Billie Holiday and Eartha Kitt. The sweet crooning of the Ink Spots and Ella Fitzgerald (ol' blue eyes Frankie Sinatra could only dream), the visceral, soulful sounds of B. B. King that reached into a fella and just yanked at that something under the naval and made him have to move with it...

Mother told him he had a good voice all his life. But the idea of getting on a stage terrified him, that he thought it was never going to happen. Until it did.

He vomited before hand an alarming number of times. But as soon as the lights went down and the band started up Gale floated away, and King Cleven took his place.

Gale could never nearly remember any of it afterwards, no matter how often he went up there. Something just came over him whenever he got on stage.

So maybe he goes overseas to entertain the troops. He knows they prefer the female acts - the singers, dancers, comediennes and the like - but his songs had made it on the radio and everyone was having a good time. Some of the fellas had demanded that he teach them how to dance like that and all he can say is,

"Hell. I don't even know how I dance like that. How the hell am I supposed to teach you?"

He feels eyes on him. When he's on stage one of the men in particular watches him. Not his performance. Not his wild, uncouth dancing. Him.

After, when most of the fellas have crowded closer to the stage, that same fella joins him at the bar. Wide shoulders. Curly hair. Thin moustache. Thick neck to match his waist.

A Major, his uniform betrays him.

He looks at Gale. In a way he'll never become accustomed to getting looked at. It always makes him uncomfortable and defensive and peevish.

But for once, he wants to look back, at this man who slowly grins and spreads his legs cocky like when he takes the stool next to Gale.

Or! Maybe it's post-war and John is feeling listless after the army. He seeks out every good time he can possibly find and none of it does anything to quieten his head, help him sleep, calm his heart, or fill the rotting, crumbling core of him.

He hears of a show for this new up and comer making all kinds of waves, good and bad. Dancing in ways that offends folks but singing like he has both heaven and hell in him. John can't resist seeing it for himself. Music is his biggest joy and is the one thing the war didn't take from him.

A friend points the fella out when they're buying drinks. John watches him smile at the people vying for his attention and can see the sharpness. He tosses a frankly terrible wink that people seem to love, but John can read the darkness swirl behind his eyes - that of a cornered man. He looks calm and suave and composed, but John can see the tremor in his leg and the nervous twitch of his hand.

What a strange mix of contradictions is Gale "King" Cleven.

On stage, he transforms into something else entirely. He's all soft melody and belting vocals, rasping and crooning in turn. He's wild hip swings and loose hands and feet that can't stop moving.

He's hypnotic. Erotic. And every person man or woman at that show wants at least some small piece of him after watching him perform.

But it's John he sends that shitty wink to every time he catches him looking.

John has to go for a smoke afterwards. He feels like he's just experienced something transformative. Like there was John before this and John after this.

Except, fuck him and his life, because Gale Cleven pours himself out into the alley after him, shaking and laughing lowly to himself, until he catches sight of John and freezes.

John winks at him this time. And Christ Almighty a man who has spent most of his night feeding the fantasies of the masses with his gyrating, blushes. Cute as a button. Demures, even. And John is in a whole hell of a lot of trouble.

#what do you think about singer gale?#i fear this may take on a life of it's own...#clegan #buck x bucky #mota au #Singer!Gale

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devnmon · 6 months ago

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dating dutch van der linde hcs

a/n: i am on such a dutch kick these days. my writing inspo has come back and somehow i'm even more down bad for dutch van der linde these days so... here you go!!!! enjoy xx

sfw and nsfw below the cut <3

SFW

Contrary to popular belief that Dutch is all rough around the edges, I firmly believe he'd have a soft spot for his partner. Sure, he shows his kindness to folks who need it, but for you he has a special place in his heart.

He melts when you smile, when you laugh, when you look his way or walk past his tent. His dark eyes can't help but lock onto you like magnets. He's entranced by you- by everything you do.

Dutch learns what you like very quickly; your favorite book, meal, color, favorite spots in the local towns... like the back of his hand. He's very observant.

Though he speaks well and often, there's nothing to him like sitting and letting you rant about anything you'd like. Your voice is a river of honey and he'd gladly dive head first just to enjoy the time spent with you.

Like I said, Dutch pays attention; it's no wonder when he returns from the city with a new outfit for you, specially made with the highest quality fabrics and production he could find. He knows what flatters your figure but also keeps in mind what you like to wear.

So when you walk into camp wearing it, just for him, he's speechless. Hand on his chest, out of breath speechless.

Dutch lives for your compliments and flirting. Absolutely lives for it. From you, oh it's absolute heaven. He feels like a god being fed bread and wine while sat on a throne. There's nothing like it to him. Nothing compares to your praises.

You'd allow him to recite his favorite passages from Evelyn Miller whenever he was feeling up to it; you loved hearing him talk about absolutely anything as long as he was speaking to you. And he makes philosophy seem so much more intriguing with that gruff voice of his. If I had to give it a scent/taste, dark chocolate or whiskey would be most accurate.

Dutch is the typical gentleman: making sure you're safely escorted around if he cannot accompany you, and when he does, it's with a hand on the small of your back or while your hands are interlocked. He must be maintaining contact with you whenever possible... it's his guilty pleasure.

The more time you spend with him, the more your routines intertwine and line up perfectly, making the days seem ages longer than they are. From waking up and sharing warm coffee to winding down and resting together, he makes sure to share quality time with you.

Dutch has a habit of cradling your head when you're hugging or lying in his arms. It's his protective instincts kicking in whenever you're around him.

When you're tired after getting back from a long trip, he'll carry you bridal style to his tent, undressing you while you sit upright, half asleep. He does so with multiple kisses on your cheeks and forehead, delicately helping you wind down with his soft touches.

Kissing Dutch is a joy in itself because he knows exactly what he's doing with his tongue, nevermind when his hands come into play. He's such a lovesick fool whispering "I could kiss you forever..." in your ear like that wouldn't just make you want to test that theory.

You love running little errands for Dutch or with him, stocking up on extra bullets and hair pomade so he can look his best. Making sure his shirts are always spotless and ironed. You also take pride in being the one polishing his gold chains adorned on his favorite vest (and think they compliment his waist and proportions very well).

I can also imagine him letting you run your hands through his hair while you lay together, something that relaxes him after however long and hard a day he might have had.

Sometimes when you're kissing and talking, he'll chuckle into the kiss and that'll just draw you into him even more, arms wrapped around his neck with his around your waist.

Dutch doesn't know how you pull the brightest and biggest of smiles from him, but he's damn sure he doesn't want to stop. Not even when his cheeks hurt. He holds you very dear to him.

There are days where you just want to listen to his voice, so you ask him to read you his favorite passages from the American Inferno or another philosophy book he keeps around. "Forgive me if I fall asleep, your voice is just so calming." and he wouldn't take offense to it, he'd only maintain his voice at a certain volume so you could rest peacefully.

NSFW

Dutch van der Linde is a man who draws everythingggg out. Sometimes he likes to make it worse by whispering in your ear while he touches you. (Or taunting you throughout the day with not so subtle touches)

He loves it when you disobey him because it just gives him the excuse to be rough with you. He'll make you suck him off, pushing you down on his cock before fucking you roughly.

Honorable mention: making you kiss his rings before using that very hand to deal you a spanking punishment. The cold metal makes it hurt a little more but if you've been disobedient, he won't hold back.

Dutch is a slut for pet names; in fact he will only use your first name when you've made him mad, otherwise it's "darling, miss, dearest, my love" etc.

On the other hand, you call him sir out of respect, not knowing how it absolutely wrecks him. You have to be careful lest he get all worked up and have to drag you away from your chores. Sometimes he does, whispering to you "Do you know what that does to me?" "It's out of respect sir I-" "Hush. You shouldn't address me as anything but. I just... god, you make me crazy."

Absolutely takes advantage of the clear power dynamic the two of you have, him being the leader of a very powerful gang definitely gives him that ego boost.

Loves to give and give and give. He would spend hours between your legs making you come multiple times on his tongue, just because he loves how you taste.

He's not into somno per say... but if you're exhausted and he has pent up energy, he'll take out his frustrations on you. That is, as long as you were feeling up for it.

When you sit on his lap it's only a matter of time before he gets touchy and his hands start roaming your body, exploring which spots are more sensitive than usual and taking note of your favorites.

Imagine him letting his rings get cold and fingering you so that the metal is extra stimulating on your skin. He especially loves letting them run over your nipples to watch them harden.

His morning voice is gruff and gravelly but that wouldn't stop you from dragging your hand down his broad, hair ridden chest to get him off early in the mornings. Say he had an issue he had to deal with that he put off from the night before, and he's dreading getting up and to his duties, but first you give him just a piece of heaven before he gets up to start his day.

If one day he comes back with a crick in his neck or some kind of back pain, you're the one to suggest you massage him. At first it's harmless touches that bring him such relief, but then you get carried away, dragging your hands up and down his sides as if to rile him up purposely. It's not long after you're whispering for him to relax while you take care of him, sucking him off or just simply worshiping his body with your mouth.

Loves to praise you as easy as breathing. Things like "always so ready for me, my sweetest," and "there you go darlin', taking me so well".

One night he comes back to his tent with you dressed in only his vest, your cleavage on display for him while he spots the amount of arousal between your legs. He buries himself inside you, letting you know how alluring you look for him.

You can't walk away from being in bed with Dutch without any new marks. The minute you jump his bones his mouth is all over you, placing mark after mark on your neck and down your chest. You try and convince him to not leave marks where the gang can see them, but he doesn't care. He has the power and he'll do as he wishes.

His favorite punishment for you is having you over his lap and a. either spanking you until you can't sit correctly for a week, or b. making you come over and over until you plead for him to stop. It's only then he finds whatever lotion or oil he has and massages the skin he's just bruised. Dutch may take pleasure in seeing you cry for him, but he'll be damned if he doesn't clean you up and wipe your tears before lying his head down to rest.

Aftercare consists of him still being a little cocky if he's gotten you to come multiple times, but you also see the sweet side of him while helping you clean up and making sure he didn't push you too far. Though he loves the power, he has enough self control to know when you need a little comforting touch or a bath afterwards. He'll gladly carry you there himself and help relax you for the night.

#dutch van der linde x reader #dutch van der linde #rdr2 fanfiction #red dead redemption 2 fanfic #dutch van der linde x female reader #devnmon writes #feeding all the dutch fans out there including myself #ryes ff

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nescaveckwriter · 7 months ago

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Heyy! Can I request a Dean Winchester x reader with an established relationship where they have to deal with a case for which they have to dress up all nice, and reader usually wear baggy clothes or clothing that hides most of her body and for the first time, he sees reader in a tight fitting dress and he's just

😍 "shit, that's my woman?!"

And he's just over the moon even more for reader (if that's even possible)

😱💓🥰... Awww sweetheart this is such a cute idea, I just simply love it, also thanks for asking, I really do hope you like, this little drabble, I've written is what you had in mind💓 anywayz I hope you have an epic day, love ... 🐞💓🥰

A/N: I love receiving requests, so keep em coming 😅

Warnings: 18+Only, Some mention of violence, and intimacy, but nothing to much, light foul language. And Pure FLUFF 🥳😘💕

Pictures used: Pinterest

Words: 1189 😘

Lady in Red 💕

His husky voice lingers in the air, oh how I loved the sound of his voice, we have been together for a few years now, and somehow hearing him, looking at him, never got old. His green eyes caught mine, helding it captive, because I mean who wouldn't drown in those emerald green orbs, mouthing with his plum lips across the table, "I love you" as Sam discussed the plan with us. Mouthing back "I love you too Dean". Looking at each other as if we were the only people in the room.

"Really you two?" Sam looked at the two of them, "we need to focus, the two of you need to pose as a high end, couple, for this charity event, so I need both of you too listen" Dean and I looked a little guilty, but then Dean smirked "bite me" I chuckled a little, the way Sam's face has irritation written all over..

Sam looked at me, eyeing the oversized clothing I always wear, oh he didn't want to say it out loud but, I knew what he was thinking, how am I going to look the part?. I barely even wear makeup or do my hair, but like who would not want to be comfortable when you're fighting monsters and ghosts. I smile, "Don't worry boys, I'll dress the part" Dean gave me this surprised almost scolding look sounding sincere, "You are beautiful sweetheart, I don't care what you wear, your beautiful" he walked up to me, and without hesitation he pulled me into an endearing kiss, his hands resting on my hips, I heard Sam, mumbling "Oh! Give me a break" and walk out, leaving the two of us, I could feel the way Dean smiled, against my lips. After a few more seconds, we came up for air, sounding breathy ,"Babe you should stop terrorising your brother so much" he simply smirked "Not my fault Sammy is so easily annoyed" I laugh, starting to turn away from him, "I need to go and get ready for tonight's event, you too mister" he grabbed my wrist, "Come here sweetheart" he pulled me close to him, looking into my eyes, "you know I love you right, more than anything in this world?" I smiled, looking at this gorgeous man in front of me, his freckles, my damn weakness, "Mhmm you see I know that's not true" surprised he looks at me "what?" Chuckling a bit "what about baby?" Referencing the love for his Chevrolet Impala, standing in the garage, he burst into laughter "You are driving me crazy woman, now go get ready" giving me a playful slap on the rear. I walk away, smiling, my heart bursting with love and joy.

He smiles as he watches her walk away, wearing loose fitting jeans one of his t-shirts and some flannel, hair in a messy bun, it's true he didn't care what she wore, she's so beautiful for him, but he would be lying, if he said he wasn't curious what she'll look like all dressed up, for some reason that's beyond him, she always thinks she's not pretty, but oh how far that could be from the truth, he knows every single inch of her body, every little spot that makes her tickle, every Little sensitive part, that makes her moan in pleasure, he loves her, even more than his car, but he'll never admit it.

Checking himself in the mirror, mumbling "I hate these monkey suits" as he struggled with his bow tie. He walks around the bunker searching for Sam, of course he finds his little brother's nose buried in those damn books, "Sammy help a man out?" Sam looks up, "you can hunt some of the most dangerous creatures, but you can't fix a tie?" The glare Dean gives him shows he isn't happy at the remark, he gets up, helping his big brother fix the tie.

Sam's eyes widens, his mouth falls open, Dean looks at him "What's your problem?" Sam could barely utter a single word he was stunned to say the least, Dean followed his eyes and when Dean turned around, his breathing hitched, his heart rate went up, he slightly gasped for air, taking in the beauty before him, his eyes wandered over her. Her hair draped over her shoulders, her eyes glistening, her smile could light up the darkest of rooms, wearing a red tight fitting dress. The high cut slit in her dress, exposing her right leg, the crystal like heels, making her seem taller, her legs leaner, the low halter cut, just exposing enough of her collar bone, to leave something for the imagination.

Without saying a word, Dean gestured for her to turn, the back of the dress, totally exposed, just covered her lower back. He bit his lower lip, and with the back of his hand, hitting against Sam's chest, his voice sounding a bit more husky, "shit, that's my woman?!" She laughed and her voice rang, "Last time I checked, I was all yours"

All the way to the event Dean could barely keep his eyes on the road.

When he led her through the doors, his hand rested on the curve of her back, so many eyes were on her, and he slightly chuckled when she whispered "why are they all looking at me?" As if she doesn't know she's beautiful! So he just smiled, took her hand, and asked "do me the honour and dance with me?" She did a little playful dip, "the honour would be all mine" before he pulled her close, he gave her a once over. He never saw the highlights in your hair, that caught your eyes, or the dress you're wearing tonight, he pulls you close. Dancing cheek to cheek, the way she feels this close to him, her small hands on his shoulders, his calloused hands, in the small of her back, sending electric shocks through her spine, swaying with the music, maybe Dean's caught up in the moment, but there's a question weighing on him for months, but now, now it feels like the right moment, he's voice sounded deeper than normal as he whispered, hot air brushing against her neck "Sweetheart?"

Slightly breathy, "Yes?" He cleared his throat, "make me the happiest man alive, and be my wife?"

Her swaying body came to a stop , "A...are you asking me" he cut her off, pulled back looking in her eyes, "yes, will you marry me?" I couldn't believe it, he just asked me to be forever his, without further due, I planted a kiss on his plum lips, soft tears rolling down my cheeks, he smiled against her soft lips, "is that a yes?" I break the kiss, smiling widely, "yes a million times yes" he laughed, picked her up, gave a twirl, and placed her down, his fingers intertwined with hers. Giving me that signature smirk, "What do you, say Mrs Winchester let's go catch that shifter, then we celebrate with some pie and beer?" I laughed, nodding, as happy as can be, "lead the way Mr Winchester".

@k-slla @jackles010378 @winchesterwild78 @cevansbaby-dove @cutedisneygrl @angelbabyyy99 @pia-bartolini

#spotify #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester x reader #jensen ackles x reader #sam and dean

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dittolicous · 10 months ago

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hear me out

stealth black!sanji where sanji does indeed start losing his emotions and word makes it way back to judge, so he has him kidnapped/his death faked and uses science to rush the removal of emotions along with wiping a good chunk of his memories to make him easier to control... the focus however was high-key placed on emotions such as empathy, humility, kindness, joy, etc. since judge wanted to ensure to an absolute degree that sanji's 'flaws' were wiped clean, leaving only the perfected stealth black he was always meant to be

but judge makes a mistake

in his hurry to eradicate the humanity, he didnt consider the consequences of leaving even an inkling of negative emotions within an abused, aching shell - smattering of disjointed memories, blurry faces in sporatic dreams, voices that are just outside his grasp, a longing for something but yet lacking a name...

injured, raw, bloody from unknown wounds he may be, but stupid, sanji is not

he's stealth black, espionage is his specialty, he knows how the human mind works, how words can be twisted, the ways a tide can be turned with the right leverage. all people, with the right tools, are malleable. he also knows the range of his 'father's' skills, knows how far judge would go to secure a victory, how little he fears damaging his own to get the right outcome...

sanji knows

there is a hole where his heart ahould be, deep, dark, and endless. he cannot feel love, but he knows its absence. there is no sympathy for the innocent lives ravaged in the vinsmoke name, yet its mention brings bile to his throat. he sees the sunrise across the sea with blank eyes and watches it set on the corpses of kingdoms with growing repulsion

his brothers laugh, they were taught how despite it having little meaning to them. they echo the teachings of their father.

sanji had that ripped away. he can recognize a hole when he sees it even if he doesnt know what once filled it. there are no empty laughs. no fake smiles. no uncaring boasts. he cannot, there was no reason for him to (were even the echos of joy a risk?)

instead he burns

hot loathing makes a home in his chest. contemp and fury settle in his lungs, growing with every breath he takes, fueled by the embers of despair settling in his stomach

sanji knows despair, knows how deep their roots take in humanity, that to be human is to suffer... but without the other half, the joy of human connection which makes it all worthwhile, the act of living, he cannot conceptualize the value of being alive in the face of such suffering

instead he stands back and watches. unbalanced, unchecked, and under-estimated, stealth black plans. he'll rid the world of their filth, finishing the job blackleg sanji was too weak to do

for in his hurry, judge forgot about sanji's rage, about the depths of his grief and the ferocity of his burning passion. so afraid of one little boys generosity, he brushes off the dangers of unbridled resentment, that malice cannot always be reigned in by an iron fist alone

and where once, there were certain teachings of honor and integrity, of love and belief to temper this flame, judge left nothing. he took away the soft words of a kind mother, the sharp kicks of a caring father (his real father), the unabashed voices of true nakama...

is it really all that surprising that once loving flames would turn into a blazing inferno, one which burns the world indiscriminately?

judge doesnt realize he didnt defang the wolf, no, he removed the muzzle

tl;dr - if a person is made of burning passion and you remove their kindness, wouldnt that just leaving burning? judge focuses only on getting rid of sanji's soft traits not considering that he'd never actually be able to control a sanji that rages indiscriminately, which eventually comes to bite him in the ass as stealth black sets the world on fire out of self-loathing

#one piece #blackleg sanji #vinsmoke sanji #stealth black #sanji #ditto rambles #burning rage au

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vashs-turtleneck · 6 months ago

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Deep Breath.

✧ Vash the Stampede fluff

Rating: G Summary: Surprising Vash with his birthday cake(s) on his special day. Pairing: Vash the Stampede x Reader Word Count: 1.5k Content: fluff, slight angst. Song Rec: Before We Drift Away - Nothing But Thieves

“Happy birthday to you~”

Your soft voice fills the air as you set a large, fluffy cake on the table in front of him before he hears you scurry back to the dainty little kitchen. In the days leading up to Vash's birthday, you had told him over and over again how excited you were to see him celebrate the date properly. You helped plan out your travels to ensure the two of you were settled in a comfortable, quiet town where he would hopefully not be chased out before his special day. While he admittedly wasn't too fond of the idea of taking a whole day to celebrate himself, and he especially didn't like that you were using up your time worrying about him, he didn't have the heart to shoot down your enthusiasm. Not when he saw you beaming with joy at the prospect of being able to celebrate with him. He'll do it for you, he told himself. To make you happy.

So here he is, sat in an old inn, on a rickety chair, in front of the cake you so lovingly prepared for him. The entire surface is covered in dozens upon dozens of mismatched candles, save for the parts where you wrote in crimson icing. Through all the flames (which he deems must be some sort of fire hazard), he makes out the two words you wrote:

‘Happy’ along the top.

‘Vash’ along the bottom.

Uh– he's a bit confused. Happy, of course, but confused, though he doesn't have much time to dwell on it before he hears your little sing-song voice again.

“Happy birthday to you~”

And he's certainly surprised when you set another cake down in front of him, another one completely stacked with candles, and he's starting to think about how dry and old the walls of the inn are as he reads the writing on this one too.

‘Birth’ at the top, ‘The’ at the bottom.

He sees where you're going with this, and your silly idea makes him snicker.

“Happy birthday, dear Vash.”

A third cake, just as aflame as the first two, and this time he can't hold back the laugh that leaves him, almost blowing out a few of the tiny flames as he does, and his chest is warm as he thinks about how long it must've taken you to set and light up all these candles.

‘Day’ written at the top, and of course, ‘Stampede’ etched beneath, the word barely legible from how you had to smush all the letters together to get it to fit along the bottom of the cake.

“Happy birthday to you!”

This is definitely different from the last time he celebrated his birthday, when there was just one little candle to share between him and his brother, and Rem's face was hidden behind a camera. He can feel the emotions these memories well up inside him, and he does his best to bury them back down. For your sake. He doesn't want to ruin this special moment you've worked so hard to give him, after all.

Your soothing presence stands behind him with one of your hands resting on his shoulder while the other traces the lines of his cheek and jaw, the gesture absentminded, but heartwarming all the same, like loving him comes so naturally to you. You dip your head down to his level, resting your chin on his shoulder and your breath tickling his ear as you speak,

“It’s supposed to say ‘Happy birthday, Vash the Stampede.’”

“I can read, mayfly,” he chuckles, tilting his head towards you and pressing a featherlight kiss to your cheek.

“Just checking. Making sure you're not going senile on me in your old age.”

“Mhmm. Touché,” he says with a smile tugging at his lips, his cerulean eyes fixed on the hellfire in front of him, and the sight makes him snort a laugh again. “But mayfly, you didn't have to spend all this money buying me three cakes. One would have been more than enough.”

“Firstly, I'll have you know I made the cakes, thank you very much.” You stand up by his side, bringing a hand to your hip. “Secondly, even if I did buy them, it would be worth every double dollar. You deserve to blow out all your candles, and I couldn't fit them all on one cake.”

He cocks an eyebrow at you, a sly smirk on his face. “Or two cakes, apparently.”

“Do you know how old you are!? The candles were actually the most expensive part! I bled this town dry of birthday candles,” you retort, a little pout forming on your lips that he just wants to kiss away. You swat his shoulder, and he huffs out an ‘oof’ in mock pain just to see you smile at his dramatics.

“Enough about all that. You have to make a wish, sweetheart.”

Oh. Right. You're supposed to make a wish and blow out all your candles on your birthday. Something he only got to experience once all those years ago.

Two human lifespans ago, really.

A wish, though? What's he supposed to wish for? You've given him so much more than he ever thought possible, and now he's supposed to ask for even more? Maybe he should keep it vague and simple and wish for love and peace? Ah, but that feels like the easy way out, and you clearly used too much of your valuable time on these cakes for him to cop out like that.

He's spent his long life with so little, trekked through valleys of sands all on his lonesome for so long, seen far too many people come and go for him to count, but he can remember the names and faces of each and every person he's had the pleasure (or displeasure) of meeting, all while his face has stayed the same.

Time has always been an enemy of Vash the Stampede. A human lifespan could never compare to that of a plant's, and humans are so much more… fragile. So, if he could just get more time with you. To hold you in his arms for just a while longer. A few more moments like this. A few months. A few years.

Would it be selfish to ask for a few decades together?

Would it be too much to ask for the rest of your time?

Even if it means standing by as he watches himself lose everything, watching as you get swallowed up by the sands of time, all while his face stays the same?

“You know, I don't mean to rush you on your special day or anything, but I think this might be some kind of fire hazard.” Your words cut through the thick fog clouding his tumultuous mind, and he quickly shakes himself from his thoughts.

“Right, right. Sorry. Just thinking.”

“Nothing dumb, I hope?” you hum in response, and he chuckles out a little laugh. He hasn't laughed this much on a July 21st in a long, long time.

“Maybe a little bit dumb.”

“I'll allow it only because it's your birthday,” you say back, pressing a gentle kiss to his temple.

“Now, deep breath, angel. Show these candles why they call you the humanoid typhoon.”

He takes a moment to appreciate the sight in front of him. Three cakes, all covered in a comical amount of candles, and he doesn't doubt that you counted out exactly as many as you needed. As absurd as it all is, you did this. And you did this all for him.

He thinks about how this would've been a lot easier 50-something years ago, but he's going to give it his best regardless, because he really, really wants his wish to have a chance. Taking in the deepest breath his lungs can hold, until his chest is puffing out, Vash blows out each and every one of the dozens of candles you've so lovingly inlaid into his three cakes, until every last one bleeds out thin lines of smoke in the air, and for once he's thankful this inn is so cheap that they didn't bother with a smoke detector.

At his side, you clap enthusiastically at his rather impressive display. “You did make a wish, right?” you ask, and your head is back on his shoulder.

“I did. Don't worry.”

‘For many more birthdays with you,’ but if he says that aloud, it won't come true now will it?

“Good. You deserve it,” you say as you give him a hard, wet kiss to his face that smushes his cheek, and Vash feels his heart squeeze tight. “I'll cut you a slice, and maybe next year I'll make four cakes to spread out all the candles better. Hope you're okay with eating cake for three meals a day for a while, by the way.”

“You know there's candles with just numbers, right? Just use those next time.” And oh, does he hope for a next time.

“Nah, that's not as fun.”

A ridiculous idea, but he'll go along with it. For your sake, of course.

divider.

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